Conquest of Earth (Stellar Conquest Series)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Epilogue

  © 2014 by the author. All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The Plague Wars/Stellar Conquest Series:

  - The Eden Plague

  - Reaper's Run

  - The Demon Plagues

  - The Reaper Plague

  - The Orion Plague

  - Cyborg Strike

  - Comes the Destroyer

  Stellar Conquest: the Plague Wars story continues 100 years later!

  - Planetary Assault (contains First Conquest: Book 1)

  - Desolator: Book 2

  - Tactics of Conquest: Book 3

  - Conquest of Earth: Book 4

  Chapter 1

  Captain Absen squeezed himself into the jump seat of the tiny grabship behind Major Vango Markis. The auxiliary position was seldom used, and he could see why. “Thanks for taking me out,” he said to his Aerospace squadron commander.

  “Thank me later, sir,” Vango said with a mischievous grin. “Don’t you usually get spacesick?”

  “Stick to one orientation and you’ll stay out of the brig,” Absen shot back. “We have a briefing at 1000 hours, and I’d rather not show up green.” Motion sickness was one of his weaknesses, and he wasn’t about to allow this puppy to play games with him. All pilots seemed to want to make their passengers puke.

  “Aye aye, sir,” Vango said with resignation. “I’ll keep you snug as a baby.”

  The stubby little tug exited Conquest’s launch bay and swung around in a flat curve. Soon the two men looked back at the massive dreadnought as they drifted. Vango gave the retros tiny bursts and backed the grabship slowly away.

  “Four days on the nose,” Absen mused as he watched the hundreds of telefactors scurrying across Conquest’s surface, layering armor back onto the big boat to replace what the Weapon’s strikes and the impact of hundreds of hypers had peeled away.

  It would be a patch job, really. Absen begrudged the time it would take to manufacture the massive amounts of collapsium and neutronium needed to bring the armor back to spec. He wasn’t worried about the first ten meters that had been scoured off; the hundred-meter-deep canyons where the exawatt laser had slashed across Conquest’s prow and primary weapons array were his real concern.

  It would have to do.

  “Gives you a different perspective, outside of all this thick armor, eh, sir?” Vango said.

  “Your father liked to needle me too, son,” Absen replied. “But then again, he was the Chairman.” That declaration seemed to stymie Vango for the moment. All pointy-nose drivers wanted to believe themselves inherently superior to everyone else, even their commanders, but Absen wasn’t going to let the man get away with it.

  An hour of inspection satisfied the captain. Vango brought the grabship skidding in to the launch bay perilously close to the nearest bulkhead before settling into its cradle with perfect grace.

  “Sweet landing.” Absen smiled, not giving the pilot the satisfaction of complaining. Let the kid have his fun.

  Kid. This time Absen did chuckle audibly. Vango was thirty-two, subjective, but discounting coldsleep time Absen was more than seventy, and over one hundred on the calendar, older than all but a few aboard. From his perspective, most of them were kids.

  Checking his watch after he climbed out, the captain said, “Twenty minutes, Markis. See you in the briefing.”

  ***

  “You’re absolutely sure this time?” Captain Absen asked his intelligence chief, Lieutenant Commander Ronald “The Robot” Fleede, who stood in front of the conference room screen.

  “I would say our confidence is extremely high, sir.”

  “That’s what you said last time, and the hidden second Weapon almost killed us.” Absen said this without rancor, but some in the room glared.

  Fleede swallowed, his protruding Adam’s apple bobbing, but otherwise seemed unperturbed. “Sir, the situations differ. Regarding the two Weapons on Luna, we initially found no evidence of the second laser. Afterward, my team looked for and found subtle signs we missed the first time, and now we know what to look for, but I freely admit I should have ferreted out the potential trap based on logic alone.”

  No trace of sarcasm stained Fleede’s voice. Eternally earnest, Absen knew the man would never dream of speaking sarcastically to his commander.

  Fleede went on, “In this case, though, logic also supports my view. There is no reason to place such an expensive item on the inner side of Io, where all it can see is Jupiter eternally filling its sky. We’ve also examined the rest of the moon for evidence of installations, based on our review of the earlier scant traces. There’s simply nothing there.”

  Absen sighed. “I suppose I have no choice but to take the risk if we’re to get Conquest into position.” Fleede said nothing. “All right, sit down. Now let’s go over the plan. Michelle?”

  The android representing the ship’s AI nodded and made a gesture with her hand, and the screens changed to display a variety of information. “This is a near-realtime view of the Jupiter system.” She gave Absen and the rest of the staff assembled there a moment to look it over before continuing. “Four Galilean moons, each with a heavily defended Meme-Pureling base, part biological, part constructed. Io, of course, also has its Weapon pointing orbitally outward along the plane of the planetary ecliptic, and its nearby base is the Jupiter system command center.”

  “I don’t see the Meme cruiser that just arrived…” The living ship had come blasting into the system three days ago. Absen had let it alone, not wanting to interrupt repairs. It was little threat.

  Michelle nodded. “It’s grounded itself here,” she said, rotating to a synthetic birds-eye view of the Weapon and its nearby command center. “Right between the laser and the Jupiter system command center, just under the edge of the beam’s reach. Lieutenant Commander Fleede believes the Meme crew themselves have taken refuge in one of the two places.”

  “Cowards,” Commander Ford muttered from his seat.

  “We took down two Guardian monitors and a Weapon with three
Exploders,” Absen said with a slight smile. “What would you do if you were a Meme cruiser captain? Attack?”

  “Blast out of the system at high speed,” Vango Markis interjected. “Which means maybe, for a Meme, the cruiser command trium isn’t all that cowardly.” He and Ford had developed a habit of constant, barely controlled verbal sparring since they had witnessed the death of most of Earth’s population. No matter what one said, the other took the opposite view.

  Absen warned them both with pointed glances. “Go on, Michelle.”

  “Each Galilean moon also has at least one Meme base with stingships, hypers and fusors, approximately as potent as a Destroyer. Then there are seventy-five other satellites, some natural and some manmade. The remnant of Ceres,” its position flashed, “still retains about half its mass and all of its Pseudo-Von-Neumanns.” PVNs were semi-automated factories that could be programmed to build almost anything, using various technologies from nanotech to standard industrial methods, with sophisticated computers and small crews to control them. Ceres itself had been moved from the asteroid belt to the Jupiter system long ago.

  “That’s the real prize, people,” Absen said. “Priority one is keeping those PVNs undamaged, so we can use them to build. Now as far as Intel can glean, they have not been fitted with self-destruct nukes, but the computers themselves probably have burnout protocols, so Michelle and Rick, you two will need to devise an information attack to worm your way in and save as many as possible intact.”

  Commander Rick Johnstone, Conquest’s CyberComm wizard, nodded, brushing back his dark, too-long hair from his forehead. Military rank had been forced upon him, but he’d never cared much for the details of grooming standards. “We should be able to save all we have line of sight to, and we’ll try to relay off a stealth drone to get the back side.”

  “Ultimately,” Absen continued, “we hope the PVN crews – and any other human-controlled installations – will defect to us once the Weapon and the rest of the Meme bases have been eliminated. Go on, Michelle.”

  The android moved smoothly to gesture at the screens. “Besides those five moons, seventy-four other satellites of significance remain – four small shipyards for maintenance and refueling of mechanical ships, forty-six mining bases for extracting and processing ores, and twenty-four orbital defense platforms with lasers and railguns only. The Meme do not trust their human crews with nuclear or fusion weapons.”

  “Why not use more Purelings?” Absen asked. “If they did, the Meme could have those nukes available.”

  Michelle looked over at Fleede, who stood again. “Sir, Purelings are actually harder to create, train and maintain than ordinary humans. First, a clean clone, uninfected by the Eden Plague, must be generated. Then that clone must be grown naturally for several years, until it is old enough to receive a Meme mitosis. After that, it must be educated and trained to maintain efficiency and focus, because the longer it is alive, the more it will tend to develop its own individuality. Alternatively, the clone can be kept in stasis and the mitosis applied as needed, but either way, Purelings are not machines. They are useful but specialized animals that need a lot of care, rather like horses used to be long ago.”

  “Why do the Meme even use them?” Absen asked, turning to Bannum, one of the several Sekoi Blends aboard. He knew the huge, gray-skinned alien was female, but damned if he could tell the difference with the Hippos.

  “For same reason biological species still use Marines and Aerospace pilots,” Bannum rumbled in her odd accent. “Unmatched versatility, self-repair…and also, Meme find no satisfaction in machine slaves. Purelings perform…other functions.”

  “You mean the Meme have sex with Purelings?” Ford blurted.

  “No, Commander. Meme have no sex, but enjoy cruelty, domination and command. Blends, on the other hand, have much sex. It is reward of blending, no?” She leered, and Absen was again reminded both how different and sometimes similar the allied races were.

  “But that’s –” Ford said.

  “Let’s put everyone’s sex lives aside and concentrate on operations, shall we?” Absen interrupted drily. “Go on, Miss Conquest.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Michelle ran her gaze over the assembled officers. “I shall now outline Captain Absen’s plan.”

  ***

  Major Joseph “Bull” ben Tauros and Sergeant Major Jill “Reaper” Repeth reported in to Captain Absen with parade-ground salutes befitting EarthFleet Marines.

  Absen returned theirs casually from behind his desk. “Sit down; at ease. I wanted to talk to you about the assault.” Bull and Reaper glanced at each other, but remained silent. “I’m not happy with any of our options, or the projected results, but you’re the experts, so I want you to tell me how you see it.”

  Bull cleared his throat. “Sir, if the sledgehammer strike performs as intended, we will complete the mission.”

  “Which is code for you don’t like it.”

  “I don’t like the casualty count, sir. Begging your pardon, but you chose to only bring a short company along when Conquest can hold a lot more. Now my Marines are going to pay the price.”

  Absen sat back, closing his eyes and rubbing his neck. “I know, Bull. I screwed up. I didn’t envision anything quite like this, and I should have. I knew everyone on this boat was going to leave their loved ones behind again, and I wanted to minimize the personnel and pain. Now we’re going in understrength, and it’s going to cost lives. I’m sorry.”

  Bull ran his hand over his huge bald head. “Sir, I’ve been thinking...why not add in a bunch of battle drones and let Michelle run them?”

  “Good idea, Bull, but it won’t work. The AI is integrated with Conquest itself. Once we move outside of a light-second distance or so, there’s no way she could control them any better than you can. In fact, we’re going to operate up to sixty light-seconds away. That’s not doable.”

  “Of course. I should’ve gotten that.”

  Absen waved his hands. “After a hundred years, I’m still not fully accustomed to how big space is.”

  “What about putting the battle drones on automatic?” Reaper asked. “I’m not crazy about the idea – if Marines lose IFF or the drones get damaged, we could get some fratricide – but if we send them in as cannon fodder and make sure we stay behind them, we can minimize that.”

  “I support that idea, sir,” Bull added. “We can give the squad leaders drone control capability so they can issue orders if they have to.”

  “You sure your people won’t get task-saturated? I’m not a grunt, but you’ve told me that no one is ever undertasked in a firefight.”

  “He’s right, Bull,” Reaper said. “It’s hard enough for company command to keep perspective to control a battle. You add drone control to the squad leaders…”

  “How about the sled pilots?” Absen asked. “Seems to me that once they’re down, they have some excess capability. Give them a crash course in battle drone operation and you got yourselves on-site control, and they never even have to leave their cockpits.”

  The two Marines’ eyes widened. “That’s a really good idea, sir. Might as well get some use out of the airheads.”

  “I also want you to take the Ryss along.”

  Now the Marines’ faces fell. Bull said, “Sir…we’ve been training their warriors, but they’re really green. They’re good enough individually, and they like their Avenger powered armor Conquest made for them, but they’re undisciplined. They would just be in the way if we tried to integrate them into the company. I’d rather have automated drones and the risk of fratricide.”

  “They’re that bad?”

  “Sir, they’re like boys of thirteen. They literally just hit puberty. They’re eager and brave, and Slash is all right” – he meant Slask, the oldest of the warriors in Trissk’s absence – “but right now they’re more dangerous to each other than the enemy.”

  Absen steepled his fingertips. “Bull, you said you are understrength. The battle drones will help, b
ut you need the Ryss. Slask has already approached me about going along, and I don’t see how I can refuse. If they stay behind they will be dishonored. You have to find a place for them where they can do some good. Stick them on one flank, point them forward and stay out of their way or something.”

  “Sir, they’re going to get creamed,” Reaper said. “They’re just kids!”

  “How old were you when you lost your legs in Iraq?” Absen asked, looking at Reaper.

  “Nineteen,” she said grudgingly. “Okay, I get it.”

  Absen pointed a finger. “Bull, they’re going. God help us, but if they die, they die. I’ve studied the Ryss culture over the last few years. They live for battle. If I refuse, I’ll have a mutiny. Besides, how would you feel if they were going and you were stuck on the ship watching?”

  Slowly, Bull nodded. “Aye aye, sir. We’ll find them a mission.”

  “We’re ‘go’ in four days. You’re the designated assault commander, so start planning and coordinating. Get Markis on board, make sure his sled pilots get lots of sim time with the battle drones, talk to Fleede…you know the drill. Dismissed.”

  Chapter 2

  Bull glanced over at his sergeant major, whose head lolled within her helmet as the assault sled screamed down through Io’s thin atmosphere. “Reaper. Reaper.”

  “Yeah, boss. I hear ya,” Repeth replied, not opening her eyes. “Can’t a girl get any sleep around here? We still got four minutes to touchdown.”

  “Four minutes…right.” Raising his stentorian voice, Bull punched up the company freq and said, “Listen up, you diggers. In four minutes we’re slamming in hot as hell. All you gotta do is follow your NCOs and kill anything that moves that ain’t wearing yellow. No matter what they look like, there are no human beings here, only Purelings and Blends. Pureling’s are soulless, fanatical clones, not people, and Blends or Meme are high-value prisoners. If you find a Blend or a Meme, do not let it escape. Make every effort to capture it, and burn it if you have to, you got me?”

  “Aye aye, sir!” roared the line doggies, most of whom had exactly one real battle under their belts – the assault on the Weapon on Afrana’s moon, ten subjective years ago. Bull hoped the extensive VR training would be enough, that and the improved Avenger battlesuits. He had so few Marines.