First Contact

Part Seventy-Nine

The Dominion of Law dropped from jumpspace and into the system, going immediately to full stealth. It waited as more ships joined the flagship, going into heavy stealth and slowly moving into the system under silent running.

A probe came back showing the system was largely uninhabited. There were no planets in the Green Zone, only a single planet in the Amber Zone, the rest of the 5 planets were in the Red Zone, with two gas giants and an asteroid belt. The sun was a low energy yellow star, sizzling along its lifespan without a care in the universe.

The probe reported there was transmissions from the planet in the Amber Zone and altered course to get closer. It passed nearby, sending back images via un-detectable methods.

Two facilities in orbit. Both of them stations, one of them at least two centuries old by the amount of space dust on the facility. It was cold and dark, only a slight energy signature that the probe determined was a long-life fission reactor that probably was responsible for some kind of maintenance mode. The other on was powered, with ship docking slips, habitats, but with the exception of what appeared to be automation, it was largely deserted. There was a single set of satellites around the planet, including one that was obviously active but gave out no signals beyond navigation warnings that the probe could detect. A single satellite, above the northern pole, gave out a simple repeating message over and over that was read and discarded.

Ground side there were scattered small settlements, mostly devoted to farming crops and orchards. There were a few quarries and mines, but nothing automated or special. There was some logging but it looked as if the Terrans were doing it by hand rather than automated. The probe orbited the planet three times a high angle that let it sweep the entire planet with wide-angle passive scanners.

Four spaceports, one on each of the continents. Surrounded by empty space. Few roads visible to the probe's scanners. No major industry, barely any energy source readings beyond a local power plant needed to power a small settlement. The scanners caught a few of the local residents outside and transmitted it back to the Domination of Law for the officers to look over.

Tall, but so powerfully built they looked like they should be short and squat in person. Fur covering on the head, longer on the females, with facial fur for the males. Bipeds, with thick legs and arms, a single pair of forward facing eyes and omnivore teeth.

Terrans.

The probe moved on, checking the other planets. There was no facilities, nothing. No space ships, no waiting military fleets hidden in the gas giants, nothing of any concern.

With the exception of the two space stations and the sattelites there were no facilities off the planet. With the exception of the space ports there was no sign of being a space-capable species. There were no metroplexes, no super-cities, no arcologies. Just scattered settlements of a few score Terrans and their livestock. The transmissions were standard navigational aid signals from the spaceports, the one active space station, and the satellites.

The Dominion of Law consulted with the other vessels.

It was perfect.

The twenty ships of the armada, led by the Dominion of Law swept inward, running silent, until they were surrounding the planet. They waited for a few moments and then dropped their stealth systems, waiting in orbit for the people of the planet below them to start pleading.

Neither of the space stations woke up.

Groundside ignored them.

After eight hours the Dominion of Law began to broadcast to the space-ports below.

Surrender and be destroyed.

No answer.

One of the communications officers on a different ship, the Regulation of Force, commented that perhaps nobody was at the space ports listening.

At first he was mocked and scoffed at, but as the hours passed, other communications officers began suggesting the same thing.

A shuttle was dispatched from the Peacekeepers Might to land at one of the space ports. It came in at a high arc, the hull smoking as the reentry angle stripped armor away from the heating. It landed, thudding down with nearly 1.5G's of intense force, and the sides dropped down. Peacekeepers rushed the buildings, took up position around the shuttle, all of them in heavy power armor and carrying heavy weapons.

It was empty.

It had power, from a fission generator on standby, and a computer that displayed "STANDBY MODE" on the screens in the crude Terran language.

The peacekeepers swept through the buildings. There were maintenance equipment sheds, fuel tanks topped off, a passenger lounge, even a repair facility.

All devoid of life.

The peacekeepers lifted off to a high altitude, and checked, one by one, the other three space ports.

They were the same.

The peacekeepers returned to the Peacekeeper's Might and reported in. The video records created by their armor was gone over.

The scans were checked again. There was a manufacturing facility on each continent, near the center, but the power readings were almost non-existent. Discussions were had about how the manufacturing facility was probably deserted and deploying the peacekeepers would be futile.

Finally it was decided. A peacekeeper shuttle with science and technical officers would be sent to each of the manufacturing facilities for a quick survey, then they would return.

Shuttles roared down on least time approaches, one of them hitting the retro-thrusters hard enough that the occupants were subjected to a 1.75G shock that resulted in severe injuries to several of the troops onboard. Still, the back hatch opened up and the peacekeepers, technicians and science officers all hurried into the manufacturing facilities.

They were empty. The refinery in standby mode. The manufacturing lines almost non-existent, just empty conveyors and assemble areas. The offices were empty and any available display terminals just read "STANDBY MODE" and refused to accept any input. The engineers found the massive supercomputer arrays, which they determined were excessive for the facility, but it was virtually empty. They were able to gain access to the storage drives and found that with the exception of a stripped down operating system the supercomputers were little more than complex paper weights.

Frustrated the peacekeepers and their charges returned to the shuttles and from there back to the fleet, which was still broadcasting to the surface.

Discussions flew furiously. Perhaps the spaceports and the manufacturing facilities could be destroyed by orbital bombardment as a clear message? Maybe one or two to send a message? The Peacekeepers wanted to land in force and pacify some of the small settlements because they were sure that would send a message. The scientists urged caution, that facts didn't add up to what they were seeing. The engineers and technicians warned that something seemed strange. One officer pointed out that there were no spacecraft evident on the surface so why have a spaceport on each continent and why a factory on each continent, both of them centrally located. The space stations passed over the four spaceports every four rotations of the planet, but why? It made no sense.

A communications officer reported that there had not been an upsurge in communications traffic. The settlements still had signals between them, each settlement transmitting to and receiving from the settlements within range, into a complex web that covered the entire planet. The islands all had villages on them that were part of the web. However, communications density and amount had not picked up.

The communications officer reported that either nobody had noticed the fiery entry of the shuttles or, and this was more likely in his opinion, nobody had cared.

That infuriated the leader of the armada.

How dare the Terrans ignore his armada. How dare they ignore his powerful vessels, his fifty-thousand peacekeepers, his tanks and aircraft and combat shuttles! Just who did they think they were?

He ordered a full combat drop. There were four thousand settlements total on the surface and his combat planners allocated troops so each force could suppress at least twenty settlements each with 250 troopers backed by tanks and air support/combat craft and artillery.

His men ran to the shuttles, loaded up, and the sky was full of assault shuttles making least-time vectors to the ground. The manufacturing and starport centers were occupied, assault shuttles slammed down just outside of villages and deployed the might of the Peacekeepers.

The commander waited eagerly to hear about how the Terrans had pleaded for mercy before having the might of his fist brought down on him. He could see the vast clouds of smoke from the surface and knew his troops were bringing his might to bear.

Hours passed without any more than standard maneuvering reports.

The commander ordered a report immediately and a cringing underling brought it.

There was no Terrans to be found. The houses were empty, the barns were empty, even the cattle and food animals were gone. The smoke was from burning fields and orchards and houses. The landing craft had been greeted by smoke, flame, and silence. The starports and manufacturing center had all been wreckage, even the tarmac cratered and torn.

The commander ordered search parties out. The Terrans couldn't have just vanished. It was impossible.

A lowly infantry officer brought up a question: Why had they burned everything?

Another commented that it looked like a war had happened and they had just missed it.

The question went through the ranks: Where are they?

Then patrols started failing to report in. Or reported in with one or two less than they had left with, the ones that were missing having just seemingly vanished. A tank crew came up missing. An aircraft wing of six vessels activated their engines and blew up on ground, the fuel tanks, put in place to replace the destroyed Terran ones, exploding with the aircraft.

A barracks came up empty.

The corpses were found next to the dirt road leading away from the burnt out rubble of the town. The peacekeepers had been bound hand and foot, made to kneel in front of a ditch, and had been executed by a sharp heavy blade to the skull.

The armada commander ordered that any Terran caught was to be immediately put to death.

His commanders all grumbled that the problem was there apparently wasn't any Terrans.

Troops became jittery. More than once they opened fire at shadows. Twice two patrols spotted each other and opened fire on one another.

The planet was still empty.

A shuttle went to take off, got less than a hundred feet into the air, and exploded into wreckage.

The airfield commander ordered all the shuttles examined.

They were all wired with explosive. Three exploded as the technicians tried to remove the charges. Two more exploded for apparently no reason. The airfield commander ordered the last one taken up to orbit for safekeeping.

Nobody would enter the shuttle.

An hour later his desk com-link beeped for attention. When he answered it a human voice said, in perfect Unified Standard: Open the desk drawer, you insipid drooling cowtaur.

Furiously he yanked open the drawer.

The explosive charge blew shredded hamburger out the window and all over the airfield.

Tanks started running over explosives. The lucky ones just destroyed the track. The unlucky ones were cored out like a county fair apple. Crews that tried to walk back just vanished. Their bootprints just vanishing. Sometimes the lead tank was blown up, other times the last tank, sometimes the one in the middle.

Some of the peacekeepers would have deserted except there was nowhere to go.

The armada commander was furious. It had been eight days and nobody had seen a single human but his casualties were mounting. He was being mocked! He knew it! He ordered all his forces to take over the ruins of the starports, to dig in around it and fortify.

He watched with satisfaction as his peacekeeping forces did as commanded.

Still his ships broadcast their message of peace and pacification.

Surrender and be destroyed.

His men were on a hair trigger. Violence had broken out in the ranks. Troops refused to go out and patrol the countryside, unwilling to be one of the casualties that were sure to be inflicted. An enlistedbeing rolled a hand grenade into the command tent of the deployment officers. A firefight broke out between the officers and enlistedbeings when the enlistedbeings were ordered to make foot patrols through the tall grass to search out any Terran that might be hiding in the grass.

And still there was no evidence that Terrans were anywhere on the planet.

The armada commander was beginning to despair. How was he supposed to prove the supremacy of the Unified Military Forces if he couldn't even find any Terrans to suppress?

Then the reports came in. The structures in the villages were back.

Peacekeeper vehicles roared in. By the time they got there, the villages were engulfed in flame again. The smoke rising high into the air. Shuttle commanders ordered their men into the smoke. The smoke was thick and seemed to interfere with the peacekeeper's armor visuals. Transmissions were staticy and broken up.

That's when the screaming began. Images began flooding in.

Terrans.

Terrans in heavy armor, some wearing helmets, some without. Heavy kinetic weapons in one hand, swords with terrible toothed chains that ripped through the peacekeeper armor as if it was tissue. They were in the smoke, killing everything. The ones without helmets had bestial expressions of rage as they roared their battlecries and slew every peacekeeper that had entered the smoke.

The peacekeepers in the encampments where the spaceports and manufacturing facilities stared in shock at the static filled and broken up transmissions. The Terrans showed no mercy, neural-bolts doing nothing to the howling and rampaging warriors.

Then the peacekeepers manning the outside perimeter heard it.

A roar of rage.

From the tall grass they thundered out, heavy armor covering them, jet black with just the Terran Confederacy symbol of a planet being crushed by a human hand. Shoulder and back mounted weapons thundered, chainswords howled as they ripped through tank armor as easily as they tore through peacekeeper armor, heavy kinetic weapons in their hands roared as the shells caused anything they hit to explode.

The armada commander stared in shock, trying to process what he was seeing. It was only a few, less than a dozen, in the villages, only a couple hundred at each of the encampments, but his men were being slaughtered as if they were made of tissue wrapped ground meat.

At the 10% casualty mark the ground forces commanders, those still alive, sounded the retreat. By all known conventions of warfare the Terrans should have broken off, should have stopped their attack rather than expend resources to further prosecute an already won battle.

Instead the humans, if anything, increased their advance. As if the fact that the peacekeepers were retreating somehow moved the dial from 'battle' to 'full on slaughter' as they chased the peacekeepers down. In several cases they boarded the shuttles with the peacekeepers, slaughtering the screaming and panicked peacekeepers inside the very shuttles that were supposed to carry them to safety.

Shuttles began exploding in mid-air as Terrans proved to have anti-air capability in their armor. Shoulder fired missiles streaking through the air to destroy some of the shuttles as they lifted off in panic.

Tanks vanished in explosions from shoulder fired missiles. Artillery vehicles were torn apart with kinetic weapon fire, chainswords, or just plain armored fists.

The tactical net staggered and went down from the sheer carnage on the surface.

More and more shuttles were taking off and the armada commander breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as if all the shuttles sent to the villages would be recovered. One by one the remaining shuttles managed to lift off, more and more escaping being knocked out of the air by the Terrans's highly effective anti-aircraft missiles.

Still, on the ground, the Terrans were rampaging through, killing any peacekeeper they encountered. Most of the peacekeepers had panicked, attempted to run out into the grass.

There they discovered the females.

Waiting.

With vibroknives and hot coals.

The tall grass echoed with screams.

Shuttles began to dock and the armada commander breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the reports started flooding in.

Terrans were aboard the shuttles and came out firing their weapons. They cared nothing for hull breaches, often deliberately decompressing entire ship sections by firing missiles or just shooting the hull until their fire tore through it.

The armada commander watched in horror as one by one each of the twenty ships in his armada were marked with the ancient arcane rune for "I Have Been Boarded" that the computer had to recall from deep storage memory. A rune so old it wasn't even taught any more.

He was still trying to figure out how to repel the boarders, with all of his peacekeepers on the planet, when the hatch to the flag bridge blew inward, propelled by a kick from an armored Terran, and heavy magack rounds shredded everyone on the bridge.

The shuttles arced away from the ships, heading in a slow and leisurely reentry path. All of the shuttles were inside the atmosphere when, one by one, the ships exploded as their reactors went critical and self-destructed.

The shuttles landed and the Terrans got off, walking back into the tall grass. As night fell the outline of the shuttles softened, then began to dissolve as the reclaimation nanites of the creation engines reclaimed the materials of the shuttles.

By dawn the houses in the villages were back. The manufacturing facility was slowly being created. The starport was slowly being reconstructed.

The villagers returned, going out behind their homes and digging up sealed heavy containers. They removed their armor, cleaning it and putting it in the containers. Weapons followed. The containers were closed and buried again. The women exchanged bloody active camouflage for a bath and a clean dress.

The men put on floppy hats.

The women put on bonnets.

The animals were led from the heavily shielded shelters and were glad to be back in the sunshine. Many needed milked.

Above them the satellite beeped out the same signal over and over.

DANGER DANGER DANGER! CONFEDERACY MILITARY DECOMMISSIONING PRIMITIVENESS THERAPY WORLD - NO ENTRY TO NON-MEDICO PERSONNEL - DANGER DANGER DANGER!

ATTEMPT NO LANDINGS HERE. NO ORBITAL PERIHELION CLOSER THAN 500KM. ATMOSPHERIC ENTRY IS FORBIDDEN.

CONFEDERACY MILITARY DECOMMISSIONING PRIMITIVENESS THERAPY WORLD. Patients can have extreme bouts of violence in response to unauthorized contact. AUTHORIZED MEDICO PERSONNEL ONLY

Contact Confederacy Medico Orbital Station Control Beacon on Hydrogen 2-1 transition frequency (1420.405751786 MHz) for more information.

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

WARNING WARNING WARNING

DO NOT ATTEMPT COMMUNICATION WITH SURFACE PERSONNEL.

CONFEDERACY MILITARY DECOMMISSIONING PRIMITIVENESS THERAPY WORLD. PATIENT CAN HAVE VIOLENT RESPONCE TO UNWARRANTED COMMUNICATION. Unregulated contact with patient can have adverse affects on therapeutic seasons. AUTHORIZED MEDICO PERSONNEL ONLY

Contact Confederacy Medico Orbital Station Control Beacon on Hydrogen 2-1 transition frequency (1420.405751786 MHz) for more information.

WARNING WARNING WARNING

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