The Prize: Book One

THE PRIZE 3.0

BY

ROB BUCKMAN

PROLOGUE:

The shuttle bucked and rolled the nearer it got to the planet, and Penn's inner ear told him the pilot was trying in vain to keep the craft's nose up as their descent speed increased.  How much real control he had was difficult to say, but if General Tandy's warning was correct, this was more of a controlled crash than a landing.  Ionized gasses began to flare along the length of the shield, something few, if any, had seen before.  Most craft entered atmosphere slowly, due to the anti-gravity systems, and at slow speed it was rare to see anything unusual, even on a combat drop.  The ionization increased, as did the speed of their death dive toward the planet surface, as the craft plunged deeper into the atmosphere.  The sound of air rushing by the hull increased, as did the amount of orange tinged flame as the whine of the over-sized Cg generator, warbled up the scale as it tried to compensate for the downward pull of the planet.  The interior lights dimmed as the generators sucked up more and more power, and they all heard shouting from the flight deck as the craft went into a sharp angled dive.  

Any resemblance to a normal descent, even a combat drop, ended when they passed the one AU barrier, but it was until they enter the atmosphere, that they found out just how much control the pilots didn’t have.  The terrible buffeting worsened by the second made more frightening when the interior lights started to flicker, then went out altogether, plunging the cargo deck into darkness, The bright, flickering, orange flames, outside the windows were the only things highlighting frightened faces, and mouths opened to scream. The screams went unheard, buried under the roar of atmosphere streaming pass the hull.

Someone screamed even louder as they hit with a bone jarring impact, hearing the hull groan in protest as the extra cross bracing began to buckle under the increased strain.  Supposedly secure lockers sprung open, sending the contents bouncing around the interior, as the hull twisted itself out of shape.  Penn caught a flying oxygen bottle, and jammed it between his legs, batting miscellaneous objects toward the deck with his free hand.  They all heard the high-pitched screech of metal tearing off the ship as they smashed into something, the sound cutting through the interior like a knife.  The impact starting them spinning, first one-way, then another as they hit something else.

Penn held on to the shock webbing, breathing heavily, betting they'd come down in a forest, by the sound of branches snapping as they scraped along the outer hull.  The third hit had them traveling forward again in a reasonably straight line, but still way too fast.  With one last bone bruising crash, and the sound of rending metal they were down, and at rest.  A pale, greenish light leaked into the darkened cabin around the broken stub of an enormous branch that punched its way through the cockpit windshield, and the forward bulkhead.  Thankfully, above their heads.  The dripping red stain on the broken end bore mute testimony to the gruesome demise of pilot, and copilot.  So much for getting off this mud ball in this ship, was Penn's thought, as he unsnapped the crash webbing.  Curses and groans of pain came from all around as the team unstrapped and tried to stand on the sloping deck, the hull groaning in protest as it settled.  Suddenly, bright greenish light flooded the interior as Sergeant Jaxx hit the emergency release on the shuttle's rear ramp.  The steel ramp crashed to the Earth with a wet thump and a spray of mud.  Unlike the others Penn had nothing to carry, so he followed Sub-Major Ellis down sloping deck to the ramp, breathing the hot, humid air, feeling as if he'd come home…

CHAPTER ONE:              Earth - Sol System

Deep space tracking saw the flash first, but even as the signal crawled its way toward Earth, NEAT detected the spinward energy burst dropping down the gravity well as it decelerated into a retrograde Earth orbit.  Before the second signal even reached the listening ground stations, eighteen massive battleships appeared in low orbit over every major capital city on Earth.  Their sheer size quelled any immediate response from local governments, or the military, as every living being on Earth looked up in shock, wonder, horror, and amazement.  For more than an hour, Earth held its breath, partly in shock, mostly in wonder as governments phoned each other in an attempt to come up with some coherent plan of action.  At long last, the human race had the answer to the question it had asked itself ever since man first looked up at the stars.  We were not alone. 

As humanity held its collective breath in astonishment and fear, all eyes glued to the sky, or the TV waiting for answers.  At last, a lone shuttlecraft descended from the half-mile long battleship hanging over New York City, and gently came to rest in front of the UN building.  Unbeknownst to the people of Earth, or the delegates to the UN, the shuttlecraft carried nothing more important than a third assistant under-secretary to the Imperial Governor's administration clerk.  If that wasn't insulting enough, and without preamble, the pasty-faced bureaucrat announced to the UN General assembly, that Earth was now part of the Great Tellurian Empire.  It wasn't a negotiation, or a demand, just a bald statement of fact.  He ended the proclamation with platitudes about the undying Emperor's wish that his new subjects live long, and prosper under his benevolent guidance.  Almost as a footnote, he added that the Sector Governor expected Earth's citizens to follow the Emperor's rules, regulations, and laws without question or resistance, departing thereafter as quickly as possible.  As expected, Earth's response was to launch every weapon in her massive arsenals, to no avail.  The nuclear weapons never left the ground, or lifted out of their silos.  The Imperial ships in orbit simply obliterated them, and the trans-atmospheric fighters and missiles the moment they left the runways, or launchers.  After that, and in accordance with Imperial Operational Directives 510, and in response to a local uprising, they'd put 'boots-on-the-ground' in the form of seven hundred and fifty-thousand elite Imperial combat troops.  By inciting a rebellion, at least from the Imperial Government’s point of view, it entitled, and gave the Sector Governor all the excuse he needed to occupy the planet, subdue the rebellion, and start raping the planet, and the others in the system of their natural resources.  Enriching himself in the process.

Earth's military forces reeled back in shock, stunned by the overwhelming firepower, and seeming invulnerability of the Imperial troops.  In less than a week, the Empire took over Earth, as the local governments, and military organizations collapsed before the onslaught.  As the dust settled, the Governor's local administration staff moved in, thinking it was over, patting each other on the back at how, well, and how quickly Imperial troops had quelled this minor uprising.  It was a story that repeated itself countless time in the past as the Empire expanded its reach, and became nothing more than a footnote in the Imperial history book.  For fifteen months, humanity held its breath in shocked disbelief, until the unthinkable finally sank into the collective psyche.  They'd been invaded, and conquered by an alien species.  Something they’d seen in a movie, or read about in some fantastic science fiction story.

When it did finally sink in, it was as if humanity went collectively mad.  Even the vaunted Imperial Guard reeled back in shock as the fanatical humans assaulted their positions.  In some places, strange reports came in from the front lines of human's screaming in union 'Allah Akbar' 'Allah Akbar' or 'Insha Allah' as they stormed the defenses in suicidal waves, climbing over their own dead to get at, and slaughter Imperial troops hand to hand.  In other places men in skirts successfully charged Imperial positions to the sound of some horrid musical instrument that sounded like some sort of feline being strangled, while others sang strange songs as they charged the line.  The rules of war as the Empire understood them meant nothing.  In the end, the rebellion, as the Empire saw it, cost three billion dead, and yet the humans still kept fighting.  Odds mean nothing to them, surrender meaningless, and for the first time battle hardened Imperial generals and soldiers, actually witnessed the mythical fight to the last man, as they overran human positions.  If the humans ran out of ammunition, they fought with bows and arrows, spears, knives, clubs, axes, and even bare hands.  Men, women, children, old, and young fought with tenacity, and fanatical bravery that was beyond belief.

You couldn't parlay, or offer terms, much less mercy.  A wounded earthman was just as deadly as an unwounded one, many times blowing themselves up along with the medic, or Imperial soldiers who went to help.  The normal rules of war, or code of conduct were meaningless, and the humans never missed the slightest opportunity to heap misery and death on Imperial troops or personnel.  The humans even taught the Empire a new tactic, one called 'scorched Earth'.  In doing so denying Imperial troops such basic things as clean, safe drinking water, or local fruit to eat.  They poisoned, burned, and destroyed anything useful to the occupying army, even to their own detriment.  Even the usual tactic of shooting innocent hostages en-mass in revenge for civil disobedience, or killing off duty soldiers didn't work.  For every hostage, they executed, the human's turned around and kill twice as many Imperial soldiers the next day, until it became a losing proposition.  The Empire obliterated whole cities by orbital bombardment in retaliation for the mass killing of its soldiers, thinking to quell the humans into submission.  It was a forlorn hope, as a month later the human's detonated a pocket nuclear weapon they'd smuggled into an Imperial Military base.  It killed 18,000 Imperial personnel and two thousand of their own people.  No military organization can lose so many front line troops, before the cost of replacing them became exorbitant, so the mass executions stopped.  After a while on most worlds, once pacified, imperial troops could go off base to sample the local portables, and find companionship among the human female population.  Except on Earth.  Any single, or group of soldiers that went off base, did so at their own risk, until the Governor stopped all passes.  This just intensified the problem, forcing Imperial High Commend to cycle troops in and out faster, before the troops went mad from being locked up in barracks for so long with nothing to do.  With no way to relax, or let off steam, every base and outpost became a powder keg, waiting to blow up in their faces.  Within the ranks of the Imperial troops, Inter-species fighting broke out on an almost daily basis, to the point where local commanders had to resort to executing their own troops to restore order.

High command knew first-hand how galling it was to hear the human's laugh when they heard about it.  To them, it was the funniest thing in the world. The Planetary Governor even tried negotiating with what was left of Earth’s government, offering all sorts of largess to end the fighting.  In return, the humans had one request.  Leave!  That was one thing he could do, especially the Sector Governor.  There was no way he was going to explain to the Emperor that he'd made a terrible mistake, so they kept pouring in supplies, and cycling more and more troops to the cursed backwater hell-hole planet called Earth.

CHAPTER TWO:               IMPSEC Director Markoff’s office - Telluria Prime

From General Frunk Tandy's point of view, nothing about the waiting room inspired a feeling of ease.  From the cheap green carpet, hideous mauve-colored walls to the insipid grating sound coming from the speaker system that passed for music.  Having cooled his heels for over an hour in the low ceiling, overly hot room, the sound bordered on physical and mental torture.  Unbeknownst to him, the main purpose of the music was to cover the subtle sonic vibrations underneath that had many close to panic by the time the heavy, stainless steel door with the Imperial crest laser etched into the surface slid open.  Although slight, the sound was sufficient to make General Tandy sit up and take a deep, slightly shaky breath.

He eyed the open door with distaste, but silently thanked the Holy Mother that he didn't have to sit on the hard wooden bench any longer.  Even so, he couldn't stop a slight sigh of resignation escaping his pinched lips as he ran a blunt-fingered hand through his close-cropped, iron gray hair.  Steeling himself, he straightened his uniform one last time.  With head up, shoulders back, he marched across the cheap green carpet into the Director's plush office with the sure, firm steps of an Imperial General.

The contrast between the dismally depressing waiting room and Director Markoff's beautifully appointed office was startling to the uninitiated, and all part of a carefully orchestrated plan of psychological intimidation.  By forcing people like General Tandy, and the other so-called elites to use this entryway like some common laborer, or serf, instead of the more accessible one directly from the Palace, was nothing more than a calculated insult.  Neither he, nor any members of the elite class could do anything about it, and even a soft delicate word of complaint to the Emperor fell on deaf ears.

Holographic screens covered both walls of the dimly lit, richly carpeted office, flicking from one scene to another, seemingly at random, but they held little interest to General Tandy other than to note them in passing.  He came to attention at the foot of the massive oval conference table the Director used as a desk, and saluted before removing his cap and tucking it under his left arm.  Bathed in a soft white glow of an overhead light, Director Markoff looked small and insignificant sitting behind the massive table, but anyone thinking that was deluding himself.