Sceptile Frost
12-22-2005, 05:52 PM
This a science fiction short story a wrote a bit back
The Warriors of the Future
Wind swept to and fro across the land, ravaging the great city of steel with mighty cyclones and storms. It shot through streets, tearing apart signposts and lampposts and towers. Poor shack or rich mansion, the wind knew no difference.
Charlotte, braced against a large wall, rummaged through her pack, readying her blaster rifle for the onslaught of clones she knew was coming. She stopped forward, ready for the Plutonian Alliance Army. From the planet of Pluto they had come. From a land ruled by a great alliance of cloners, they had set out to conquer a terraformed moon of Jupiter. Io was their destination, home of the great state Ionia. Charlotte was part of Ionia. She was a marine, the toughest of all soldiers.
Charlotte burst forward over a hill and saw white, the heads of the Plutonian army, and only white. The battle began. The auto turrets released their missiles and lasers. The manned turrets released their missiles and lasers. Clones charged; Ionian marines charged. The winds swept away clone and marine alike as they fought. Those left behind kept on fighting.
Charlotte jumped forward to kick a pack of clones. The wind caught her and swept her away, out of the battle, out of the capital city Caposus now besieged, out of the state of Capu, now into the Western Territories colonized three score ago in 2492, now into a quaint village knowing naught of the ravaging wind or the raging war that had begun.
Far away from the planet of Jupiter and its moon named Io, Jordan was oblivious to the troubles of his friend, Charlotte.
“This is Red Commander,” Jordan barked. His ship, a small cockpit with two wings jutting out on each side, flew over the rugged valleys of Moonbase Alpha Province like an eagle. Eyes alert, it gazed down on the many forests and meadows, rivers and streams. These were the unsettled townships, at least for now. But, the Red Division of the Alpha Fleet was on a scouting mission to start the colonization.
“Red A and B report back to hangar. Good job.” He ordered, “Red C and D continue to scout and patrol these townships.”
His ship returned to the hangar. Jordan quickly jumped out and patted the hard red exterior of his spacejet. All was calm in the hangar as he looked around. Being the Red Division Colonel had its advantages. His rations were better than the ordinary, his ship was newer and sleeker and faster, his bed was larger and softer, and his day’s routine was less filled with hard labor and more with lengthy meetings. Okay, to him the last one was a tedious, dull chore, but the other incentives were great. He sighed, mumbling to himself, “This is the life. It’ll last for a long time.”
But he was wrong.
The great Alpha Fleet could be found in large space station; it was spherical and could always be found rotating, to create a false gravity. It was flanked by six frigates, one for each of the six divisions. It orbited Earth, awaiting the day the United Nations would need its services. Of course, the fleet did the habitual patrols and spent hours delivering shipments across Earth space cities and the moon, but that had become boring long ago. The simulators had become rusty as the United Nations Space Corps Council felt no need to keep the pilots capable of combat.
James was in charge of all this. Although he was only one rank higher than his brother Jordan, he held many titles. He was usually called Grand Admiral, Alpheaus, Sir, or affectionately Alph by those who knew him best. He jumped into his soft chair and quickly, almost automatically, connected to United Nations Central Command on Earth to make his daily report on the holophone.
“Mornin’, Rhoter,” he began.
“You too, Alpheaus,” Rhoter replied. He was a young lad. In spite of that, he was gifted in technological workings, especially for the age of forty. “I’ll put you through to High Admiral right away, sir,” he said cheerfully. In a fraction of a second the High Admiral appeared on the holophone.
“How’s it going, Alph?” he inquired. James could see that his ensigns were gleaming and his badges were freshly polished.
“Oh fine,” Alpheaus replied. “The fleet’s in tip top shape.”
“Ready for a battle?” questioned High Admiral.
“I guess so. But who wants to fight us, Sir?” questioned Alpheaus.
“Oh,” High Admiral stated, “you don’t know yet, do you.”
“Know what?” asked Alpheaus.
High Admiral brought out a recording of a decleration made earlier that day by the Socialists’ Republic. The communists of China, Russia, Vietnam, Korea and their conquered lands across Asia had declared war on the United Nations. The United Nations, a faction made up of Western Europe, North America, and their dependents, was to be the target of a mass onslaught by the socialists.
“Yes, Alpheaus,” High Admiral finished. “The time of reckoning has come. President Rodriguez of the United States has been killed. The Socialists have declared war on us. They are planning an attack on Moonbase Alpha as I speak. Prepare the fleet and summon the army, Alph. Send the information to our ally, Ionia. I bet the Plutonian Army and Trade Federation have been summoned to fight with the communists. As you know, they are allies already. This will increase their fervor in an attempt to conquer the outer planets. Go!”
“I’ll do my best,” James replied.
Back on Io, far away from Earth and its sole moon, Charlotte woke up; a bright white light illuminated her. She moaned. Where was she?
“Now, now,” crooned an old, cheerful voice. Charlotte tried to sit up but jolted back down in pain.
“I’m surprised you’re awake,” the old lady said as she walked in. “Quite a flight you took there.” She stared at Charlotte, “All the way from Caposus by the looks of it. Might as well tell you then,” she continued. “Ionia’s been conquered by the Plutonian Alliance! I’m not surprised the Socialists’ Republic declared war on the UN. I’ve seen it comin’ for quite some time,” she muttered under her breath. “Those comms can’t stand to see the freedoms we have in our great democratic nations.”
Charlotte got up and jumped out of bed, fighting through the pain. “Jordan,” she cried, “I must warn Jordan and be with him. I have to go!”
Meanwhile, in the officer’s lunch period that day, Jordan heard continuous rumors. Had the Plutonian Alliance conquered Ionia or was it just a story? Was President Rodriguez really assassinated? Had the communists really started a war with the United Nations? He sat pondering these questioned as he gazed out of Moonbase Alpha, which towered over the land. Would the tranquility of the province he adored be shattered with battle, or was it all a horrible nightmare?
It was not until dinner and the Alpha Fleet summit that the rumors were confirmed by the daily briefing. Jordan also found out, by his own brother, that Moonbase Alpha was to be attacked. The only question was when it would happen.
Day after day went by; the Alpha and Beta armies of the United Nations Moonforce arranged their fortifications around the great spherical base. This base had been built five hundred years ago when no air could be breathed on the moon except in the cities. Alpha fleet prepared itself. All were constantly busy, spending hours in the simulators, preparing their ships, scouting the land, and scouting out the army.
A great fleet of ships landed far away, yet still in sight from the base. Regiment after regiment marched out. The unloading lasted all day and all night and again five times over. This was the great army of the Socialists’ Republic of Russia. Finally, the battle line was drawn. The attack would soon begin.
“Ready all ships,” Jordan urged. “I repeat: ready all ships. Base Alpha is under attack!”
Spacefighters zoomed out of the hangar into the moon air. They dodged barrages of gunshot and zipped towards their enemy, the Socialists’ Republic main army.
The gray earth beneath Jordan swarmed with advancing men. Some bore flapping red flags with a great gold star in the center.
“Take out the SS Tanks!” Jordan commanded. Missiles sped towards the large elephant-like machines. Nine Russian tanks exploded.
“Take out the fighters!” Jordan commanded. His ship rolled to the left and to the right, taking down a spacefighter, a bomber, a spacefighter again, and a bomber again. It looked to Jordan that the United Nations had the upper hand. A boom sounded, reverberating through the many different levels of canyons, valleys, and ridges onto the plane of the enemy encampment.
A panicked cry could be heard over the Alpha fleet radio, “They’ve taken out the army!” And it was so.
A whole thousand troops lay dead, destroyed by a Russian bomb.
The Warriors of the Future
Wind swept to and fro across the land, ravaging the great city of steel with mighty cyclones and storms. It shot through streets, tearing apart signposts and lampposts and towers. Poor shack or rich mansion, the wind knew no difference.
Charlotte, braced against a large wall, rummaged through her pack, readying her blaster rifle for the onslaught of clones she knew was coming. She stopped forward, ready for the Plutonian Alliance Army. From the planet of Pluto they had come. From a land ruled by a great alliance of cloners, they had set out to conquer a terraformed moon of Jupiter. Io was their destination, home of the great state Ionia. Charlotte was part of Ionia. She was a marine, the toughest of all soldiers.
Charlotte burst forward over a hill and saw white, the heads of the Plutonian army, and only white. The battle began. The auto turrets released their missiles and lasers. The manned turrets released their missiles and lasers. Clones charged; Ionian marines charged. The winds swept away clone and marine alike as they fought. Those left behind kept on fighting.
Charlotte jumped forward to kick a pack of clones. The wind caught her and swept her away, out of the battle, out of the capital city Caposus now besieged, out of the state of Capu, now into the Western Territories colonized three score ago in 2492, now into a quaint village knowing naught of the ravaging wind or the raging war that had begun.
Far away from the planet of Jupiter and its moon named Io, Jordan was oblivious to the troubles of his friend, Charlotte.
“This is Red Commander,” Jordan barked. His ship, a small cockpit with two wings jutting out on each side, flew over the rugged valleys of Moonbase Alpha Province like an eagle. Eyes alert, it gazed down on the many forests and meadows, rivers and streams. These were the unsettled townships, at least for now. But, the Red Division of the Alpha Fleet was on a scouting mission to start the colonization.
“Red A and B report back to hangar. Good job.” He ordered, “Red C and D continue to scout and patrol these townships.”
His ship returned to the hangar. Jordan quickly jumped out and patted the hard red exterior of his spacejet. All was calm in the hangar as he looked around. Being the Red Division Colonel had its advantages. His rations were better than the ordinary, his ship was newer and sleeker and faster, his bed was larger and softer, and his day’s routine was less filled with hard labor and more with lengthy meetings. Okay, to him the last one was a tedious, dull chore, but the other incentives were great. He sighed, mumbling to himself, “This is the life. It’ll last for a long time.”
But he was wrong.
The great Alpha Fleet could be found in large space station; it was spherical and could always be found rotating, to create a false gravity. It was flanked by six frigates, one for each of the six divisions. It orbited Earth, awaiting the day the United Nations would need its services. Of course, the fleet did the habitual patrols and spent hours delivering shipments across Earth space cities and the moon, but that had become boring long ago. The simulators had become rusty as the United Nations Space Corps Council felt no need to keep the pilots capable of combat.
James was in charge of all this. Although he was only one rank higher than his brother Jordan, he held many titles. He was usually called Grand Admiral, Alpheaus, Sir, or affectionately Alph by those who knew him best. He jumped into his soft chair and quickly, almost automatically, connected to United Nations Central Command on Earth to make his daily report on the holophone.
“Mornin’, Rhoter,” he began.
“You too, Alpheaus,” Rhoter replied. He was a young lad. In spite of that, he was gifted in technological workings, especially for the age of forty. “I’ll put you through to High Admiral right away, sir,” he said cheerfully. In a fraction of a second the High Admiral appeared on the holophone.
“How’s it going, Alph?” he inquired. James could see that his ensigns were gleaming and his badges were freshly polished.
“Oh fine,” Alpheaus replied. “The fleet’s in tip top shape.”
“Ready for a battle?” questioned High Admiral.
“I guess so. But who wants to fight us, Sir?” questioned Alpheaus.
“Oh,” High Admiral stated, “you don’t know yet, do you.”
“Know what?” asked Alpheaus.
High Admiral brought out a recording of a decleration made earlier that day by the Socialists’ Republic. The communists of China, Russia, Vietnam, Korea and their conquered lands across Asia had declared war on the United Nations. The United Nations, a faction made up of Western Europe, North America, and their dependents, was to be the target of a mass onslaught by the socialists.
“Yes, Alpheaus,” High Admiral finished. “The time of reckoning has come. President Rodriguez of the United States has been killed. The Socialists have declared war on us. They are planning an attack on Moonbase Alpha as I speak. Prepare the fleet and summon the army, Alph. Send the information to our ally, Ionia. I bet the Plutonian Army and Trade Federation have been summoned to fight with the communists. As you know, they are allies already. This will increase their fervor in an attempt to conquer the outer planets. Go!”
“I’ll do my best,” James replied.
Back on Io, far away from Earth and its sole moon, Charlotte woke up; a bright white light illuminated her. She moaned. Where was she?
“Now, now,” crooned an old, cheerful voice. Charlotte tried to sit up but jolted back down in pain.
“I’m surprised you’re awake,” the old lady said as she walked in. “Quite a flight you took there.” She stared at Charlotte, “All the way from Caposus by the looks of it. Might as well tell you then,” she continued. “Ionia’s been conquered by the Plutonian Alliance! I’m not surprised the Socialists’ Republic declared war on the UN. I’ve seen it comin’ for quite some time,” she muttered under her breath. “Those comms can’t stand to see the freedoms we have in our great democratic nations.”
Charlotte got up and jumped out of bed, fighting through the pain. “Jordan,” she cried, “I must warn Jordan and be with him. I have to go!”
Meanwhile, in the officer’s lunch period that day, Jordan heard continuous rumors. Had the Plutonian Alliance conquered Ionia or was it just a story? Was President Rodriguez really assassinated? Had the communists really started a war with the United Nations? He sat pondering these questioned as he gazed out of Moonbase Alpha, which towered over the land. Would the tranquility of the province he adored be shattered with battle, or was it all a horrible nightmare?
It was not until dinner and the Alpha Fleet summit that the rumors were confirmed by the daily briefing. Jordan also found out, by his own brother, that Moonbase Alpha was to be attacked. The only question was when it would happen.
Day after day went by; the Alpha and Beta armies of the United Nations Moonforce arranged their fortifications around the great spherical base. This base had been built five hundred years ago when no air could be breathed on the moon except in the cities. Alpha fleet prepared itself. All were constantly busy, spending hours in the simulators, preparing their ships, scouting the land, and scouting out the army.
A great fleet of ships landed far away, yet still in sight from the base. Regiment after regiment marched out. The unloading lasted all day and all night and again five times over. This was the great army of the Socialists’ Republic of Russia. Finally, the battle line was drawn. The attack would soon begin.
“Ready all ships,” Jordan urged. “I repeat: ready all ships. Base Alpha is under attack!”
Spacefighters zoomed out of the hangar into the moon air. They dodged barrages of gunshot and zipped towards their enemy, the Socialists’ Republic main army.
The gray earth beneath Jordan swarmed with advancing men. Some bore flapping red flags with a great gold star in the center.
“Take out the SS Tanks!” Jordan commanded. Missiles sped towards the large elephant-like machines. Nine Russian tanks exploded.
“Take out the fighters!” Jordan commanded. His ship rolled to the left and to the right, taking down a spacefighter, a bomber, a spacefighter again, and a bomber again. It looked to Jordan that the United Nations had the upper hand. A boom sounded, reverberating through the many different levels of canyons, valleys, and ridges onto the plane of the enemy encampment.
A panicked cry could be heard over the Alpha fleet radio, “They’ve taken out the army!” And it was so.
A whole thousand troops lay dead, destroyed by a Russian bomb.