Preview:
SHATTERED EARTH
by andrew meilstrup
YEAR 2791
In the 22nd century, the Americans discovered the secret of interstellar travel, and now, throughout the stars, the human race lives and dies under the banner of the Earth Union.
The Earth Union is an international treaty organization, formed after the collapse of NATO and the United Nations, which found themselves unable to adapt to the changing geopolitical climate, which had been increasingly fragmented and distrustful. The Earth Union used the military influence of its founding members to bring other nations into line. Generally, there has been peace, and relative freedom for the worlds which were colonized by the founding nations of the Earth Union. But in the Earth Union, where freedom seems to thrive in the light, that freedom is backed by control and paranoia in the shadows—and any perceived threats to the security of the Union are dealt with oppressively.
Space was colonized by many nations after the Earth faced a disaster which threatened to make the human race destroy itself. The human race had to scatter themselves across the stars so they could survive. Earth remained the wealthiest and most populous world, and the seat of interstellar power, but space and the interstellar colonies of the human race were the new lands of opportunity. When the human race discovered the secret of interstellar travel, the Earth Union became the unifying body that ensured that space did not belong to any one nation. There are still many nations on Earth, and each world has its own government as well. Some worlds are colonies administered by their home country on Earth, others are independent but still controlled by the Earth Union.
Before the advent of interstellar civilization, any nation that didn’t fall in line with the Earth Union was considered a subversive state and dealt with accordingly. Now, all worlds answer to the Earth Union.
Except Rhylla.
***
EARTH
Eighty years of war. I got this office because my predecessor wouldn’t do what needed to be done. And now it’s time to do what we should have done when they left the Union in the first place.
“Get me the Admiralty.”
“One moment, Mister President.”
Saul Ferreira sat in his office, impatiently. His predecessor died a week earlier—officially, of sudden cardiac arrest. Saul wished the report had said something else, because constant health monitoring of someone in his position means that sudden heart failure doesn’t kill. This will give the conspiracy theorists something real to talk about for a change.
Saul didn’t know exactly how the President died. What he did know is that the last President was assassinated by the Specters so that he would be installed. If anyone could prevent medical first response from reaching the President, it would be the Specters. A sobering thought. He shuddered to think of what else they were capable of, made capable through centuries of genetic manipulation. He tried to put it out of his mind.
This day was years in the making. Vice President Saul Ferreira had just been sworn in as the sixty-third President of the Earth Union—the arm of humanity that establishes order and carries out justice throughout the stars. And no one had flaunted the Earth Union’s order and justice more than the Rhyllans. The people who were founded by a man who came from the deepest depths of the Earth Union’s power base. His cause actively recruited millions, and eventually billions, of Union citizens into open rebellion. The very existence of the Rhyllans was an affront to the authority of the Earth Union. It’s never been confirmed, but rumors and innuendo suggested that the founder of the Rhyllan Federation had been one of the Specters. Such a thing should have been impossible! The Specters were conditioned even before birth to obey their commanders. It was imperative that they did, because any one of the Specters had the power to bring down the Union.
The war with the Rhyllans had to end, it had to end forever, and the Earth Union had to emerge victorious. Otherwise everything the human race had worked toward for the past millennium would be jeopardized.
One by one, holographic figures began to wink into existence in the President’s office. The Fleet Admirals of the Earth Union Navy.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice,” the President said. “I need your current tactical situations.”
“There have been some cases of piracy at the independent worlds, but we’re keeping it under control,” one Admiral said.
“The Rhyllan front has been relatively quiet. No recent insurgency. We were about to launch a raid on their weapons research facility,” another Admiral said.
“I have new orders for all of you. It’s time to end this war,” President Ferreira commanded to the room. He paused uneasily, knowing there was no going back from this. “We’re going to do what we should have done decades ago. Your orders are…to carry out a nuclear mission against the enemy. Nuclear strikes are authorized against all Rhyllan worlds.”
***
RHYLLA
It was a quiet day in the command center for Rhyllan Planetary Defense. There hadn’t been any enemy contacts in the Rhyllan star system for months, only small skirmishes at the borders. The hyperwave screens were clear and the Early Alert System was silent.
Major Lucas Anders sat in his chair, overlooking the command center, sipping a terrifyingly hot liquid out of a mug. “Southcom, report.”
“All clear in this quarter, sir.”
Anders sighed, going back to sipping his burnt coffee. I hate third watch. Nothing ever happens.
He sat in the command center. The monotony drove him to thinking about one thing after another. His romantic relationship, his finances, anger about how he never gets to see his lover, anger about how he gets stuck on third watch so often. At least I’ve got some leave coming up. He chose to direct his building anger toward his searing, insipid coffee.
Suddenly, the Westcom operator burst: “We have enemy contacts. Dozens of ships.”
“Give me a threat assessment,” Anders said.
“Cross-section looks like IBN class.”
Damn. Missile subs. “All right, people. This is it. Sound the alarms. It’s time to be professionals.”
Air raid sirens began sounding throughout the capital. Everywhere on the planet, in fact. A few sirens went off right in the room—warnings coming through on mobiles. “All right, good to know the EAS is working,” Anders said wanly. Not that it’ll do much good, they caught us completely by surprise.
“We have more contacts. Radiologicals detected. Confirmed nuclear launch, estimated time of impact is five minutes.”
He saw how many contacts appeared on the screen, and felt a pit in his stomach. “We don’t have much time. Issue a general hyperwave. Inform the rest of the Federation what’s going on. Coordinate with ATC, tell everything in the air to jump immediately”.
“Sir, we’re getting reports of enemy contacts throughout the Federation.”
A vibration shuddered through the command center.
“Epicenter of that impact looks like the spaceport. No radiologicals, video feeds are still working. It looks like…one of the hangars at the spaceport imploded.” Someone lucky enough to already have their ship spooled up must have engaged a blind jump.
“Sir, all messages are out. Looks like the civvies in the system are jumping away.”
There were too many missiles. No one could survive this, even underground. And even if they did, the surface would be so irradiated that nothing could possibly live there for eons. The enemy meant to glass the planet. He looked out the window, waiting, dreading, wishing it would just happen.
“Okay, people. Good work. We’ve done all we can here. Everyone, get to the bunker.”
Anders stayed looking out the window while everyone else filed out of the room. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, and looked at the image being displayed on its face. Michael. His mobile was receiving no signal. Call volume probably crashed the network. Anders ran to the communications console. A direct military hyperwave should still work. His superior surely would have reprimanded him for egregious personal use of military resources, but it was too late for that now. Anders put on a headset and punched in a number on the console.
“Hello?”
“Michael. It’s Lucas. Where are you?”
“I’m in my ship, starside right now. I just came out of photoshift in the Darvan system. I saw the Earth Union fleet on my screens. What’s going on?”
“There are thousands of missiles inbound to Rhylla,” Anders said quickly, his voice wavering. “There isn’t much time. They’re attacking every Federation world. Stay away from any Union ships. Try to find survivors. There won’t be any here. But most of all I wanted to make sure you’re safe.” There was silence on the other end of the line. Anders knew that Michael was trying to think of something to say. There was no time. Anders continued, “I love you.”
There was a dazzling light. A searing heat. And then nothing.
***
The last thing Michael Korell heard before the transmission cut out was a loud, electronic squeal. The microphone started melting under the thermal wave of a nuke blast before the transmission cut out. Lucas Anders was dead for sure.
He stared at his mobile. Lucas’ face was still smiling at him on its screen. He gripped the mobile tightly in both hands and rested his forehead on the mobile, tears beginning to build in his eyes.
Michael Korell was an engineer. He specialized in high-energy quantum electronics—one of the most lucrative fields for a society that has been embroiled in war for generations. His team had just completed a power regulator that could have been used to stop this kind of attack on entire worlds. Korell was on his way to the defense laboratories on Darvan to test this new power regulator with the defense screen already there. If only it could have been implemented sooner. This massacre could have been stopped. Lucas would still be alive.
Contact alarm! Sirens in the ship began blaring. The main screen indicated that there was a missile lock. Korell dropped the mobile to the ground, and ran to the navigation station on his ship’s bridge. He punched in a location in interstellar space. The Earth Union probably wouldn’t try to follow him there. He needed some time.
Korell pulled the jump lever on the navigation console. The ship instantly passed through a wormhole, and Korell sank to the floor.
***
VERSÈTE
An auburn-haired woman was chattering into an earpiece while watching an ever-changing holographic data stream. She was speaking rapidly in French.
She was a broker. And she dealt in the most valuable commodity of all: Information. Officially, her firm was an investment brokerage. But for those willing to pay, her speciality was industrial espionage—she had access to information from the inside of every sector of business, and even the government.
Christine Cordier saw something come across the screen. A downtick in the value of the defense sector. It was getting bigger. Something big was happening. For some reason, investors seemed to think the defense industry wouldn’t be getting as much business. Just as she was about to switch over to the military stream to find out what was going on, there was a rap on her doorframe. “Madame Cordier? We’re receiving urgent information. Check the military reports.” After glancing disapprovingly at her aide, a flick of Cordier’s hands brought up a focus to the military screen. Cordier’s face went white.
Nuclear holocaust on Rhylla. The entire planet turned to a spinning ball of glass. The Earth Union had launched a nuclear assault on the entire Rhyllan Federation.
This was always going to happen. The minute we learned that Saul Ferreira was to become president, that sealed the deal. His ascendancy was orchestrated from the start solely in order to end the Rhyllan War.
“Make sure everyone keeps an eye on information coming out of the Rhyllan sector,” Cordier told her aide. “We need to find a way to help them. Whoever is left, we need to save them. At any cost.”
Cordier began to sift through her information on the Rhyllans. The first order of business was to find a liaison. Finding information to help them with would be hard, and it would be dangerous, but most of all they needed to find someone to help.
***
The image of the Admiral commanding the invasion of Rhylla appeared in Saul Ferreira’s office. “Mister President,” the Admiral said. “The nuclear mission has been carried out against the Rhyllan threat. There was no resistance, and we have no losses.”
“Excellent work, Admiral.”
“There are some stragglers in interstellar space. What do you want done with them?”
“Let them escape,” President Ferreira said. “Hopefully they’ll reintegrate into the Union. And they can tell others of what happens when you leave.”
“Understood, sir,” the Admiral said. His image winked out just as the President’s chief of staff burst through it.
“Saul, we have a problem. We’re starting to see the nuclear fallout in the media. The defense contractors’ stocks are in freefall, public opinion is dangerously low and the press is tearing you apart. How do you want to proceed?”
Saul Ferreira thought for a moment. Then he said, “Put a stop to it. Make sure the press coverage of the war is interdicted. And assure the defense contractors that we won’t stop needing their services. The aftereffects of this are going to ripple through the Union, and we’ll need all the control we can get. Get it done.”
“Yes, Mister President.” The Chief of Staff walked out of the room. Saul slumped back into his chair, hoping he would stop being bombarded. He turned his chair to face away from the desk, starting out the windows of his office looking over Lake Geneva.
“This is not what was agreed upon,” a man said in a bored voice. “The Rhyllans were supposed to be exterminated.”
The President spun in his chair and saw who was now in the room. He jumped to his feet, and shouted “I do not answer to you!”
“The Rhyllans are a stubborn people,” the man continued in a monotone. “Their founder broke through Specter conditioning, and that shouldn’t even be possible. The Rhyllans still know why they left the Earth Union. If they’re allowed to survive, they will only rebel again.”
“My chief of staff just told me that the nuclear PR fallout is already spiraling out of control. If we spend military resources on hunting down every last Rhyllan, we won’t need the Rhyllans to undermine the authority of the Earth Union. Our people will do it for us.”
“You don’t need the people’s cooperation to maintain control. You have the military.”
“Get out.”
“I offer only advice. We will of course defer to your leadership. It is not our place to question matters of civil government, and we serve at your leisure.”
As silently as the man seemed to appear in the room, he evaporated into nothingness.
Still fuming, President Ferreira pressed the intercom call button, and said, “Patch me in to the Commandant of Adunarc.”
Saul fumed in silence for a minute.
“What can I do for you, Mister President?”
“I just had an unwelcome visit from one of your Specters,” Saul said. “I will be happy to pay deference to any citizen’s petitions if they go through the proper channels. Appearing in my office to taunt me is not the proper channel.”
“I’ll find out who did it and they will be reprimanded. Don’t worry, this will never happen again,” he finished with a wry smile.
***
Cordier had been poring over the console for hours. She was about to call it a night, when she finally stumbled on something useful.
Ah, this looks promising. The screen showed a man who was known to be in transit between worlds when the attack happened. A doctorate in quantum engineering, a pilot with his own ship. Obviously intelligent. He has the skills that can help the Rhyllan people survive, but only if we move quickly. We need to find him, and we need him to rally the survivors together.
This says his home was Rhylla, but his lab was on Darvan. He’s most likely near one of those systems.
She pressed a button near her console. “Celeste, please come to my office.”
About half a minute later, there was a rap on her door.
“Come in.”
A slight woman entered the door. “Close the door. We need to find someone.” Cordier scribbled down a number on a scrap of paper. “The ship should have this tail number. Tell our contact to focus on the Rhyllan and Darvan systems. The ship is doubtless trying to hide from the Navy. Vaporize that paper when you’re done.”
“Yes, Madame.” The slight woman left the room, clutching the paper.
Hopefully now we’re getting somewhere.
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