Steven Kent - The Clone Redemption

“From what we can tell, the aliens will burn Providence Kri sometime within the next eight days. That gives us eight days to move twenty million refugees and gather as many supplies as we can.”

There were fourteen of us sitting on the dais—thirteen fleet commanders and me. We sat in simple chairs with straight backs and hard seats. Holman stood at a podium about twenty feet in front of us, wearing the proud white dress uniform of the Unified Authority Navy. (It had only been a year since we had declared independence, and new uniforms were not a priority.) Mostly, from where I sat, he was a silhouette. The bright lights in the ceiling above the audience pointed back on him, their crystal white glare both blinding and bleaching. For us at the back of the dais, the gallery below the stage and the lights was a sea of black, as silent as it was dark.

“It’s not just a question of evacuating Providence Kri. New Carillon, Uchtdorf, and St. Augustine will all be burned within the next seven days. The next week will be a nonstop rescue operation.” Here Holman laid his cards out on the table, spelling out the size and scope of the operation so that every man in the room could understand. “By this time next week, we will have transported thirty-two million people to a new planet. Know this, gentlemen. Anyone we miss will die.”

The officers respected Holman. They did not whisper among themselves as he spoke.

“Our only chance of survival is to establish a colony on a planet that the aliens have already attacked. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s not going to be easy. Scientists have run tests on the air, water, and soil. The air is breathable but thin. We will take oxygen generators. The water is polluted, but not so badly polluted that it cannot be filtered. We will need to dig a few feet down to plant crops. These are obstacles we can overcome.”

A soft rumble rose from the audience. Holman ignored it. He stood behind the podium, short and slender, with the glare of the lights making his red hair and beard look like they were on fire. He might have been a clone, but he was an instantly recognizable one.

He told the audience, “We are going to colonize Terraneau.”

That shut everybody down. They all knew the planet. Terraneau had been the capital of the Scutum-Crux Arm, the outermost arm of the Milky Way. We had all been raised to judge places by their position relative to Earth. Terraneau was just about as far as you could get from Earth without leaving the galaxy.

“As many of you know, the Unified Authority patrols that area. Our barges will be vulnerable.” Holman stood silent for several seconds. When he began speaking again, he changed his train of thought.

“The Navy has asked a lot of you over the last month, and you have delivered. Now I’m going to ask even more of you than ever. Some of you will be asked to make the ultimate sacrifice. In order for this plan to work, we will need to draw the U.A. Fleet away from Providence Kri and Terraneau. That means opening a front that will draw the Unified Authority’s forces away. We are going to invade Earth.”

Down in the darkness, a single voice shouted, “Hell, yeah!” The entire room went silent for a moment, then burst into laughter and applause. Holman made no attempt to stop the applause. He let it run its course.

“We’ve run a recon mission to evaluate the Unified Authority’s military strength. We sent a spy ship into Earth space and found fewer than sixty capital ships patrolling the lanes. They detected our anomaly, and seven more ships broadcasted in. As far as we can tell, that is their entire fleet, sixty-five capital ships.

“It is entirely possible they have a few additional ships in reserve. They may have as many as eighty ships, but we have seen most of what they have.”

A possibility of eighty ships …Fifteen hundred men sat in the audience, each representing a capital ship in the Enlisted Man’s Navy. We had seventy-seven fighter carriers and 229 battleships. Maybe they sank our ships when they caught our stragglers, but they would never survive an all-out assault. Their ships would not last long outnumbered seventy-seven to one. Our numbers would be overwhelming …at least they would be overwhelming in space.

“We’re going to send a ground force as well as a naval attack,” Holman said. “Crippling their navy will not be enough for us to achieve our objectives. We need to uproot the Unified Authority government and all. We need to occupy Earth.”

Everyone in the room knew what that meant—we would send our Marines to fight their soldiers and Marines. At last count, we had three million fighting men. We’d have the numbers and the superior firepower. They’d have shielded armor that would neutralize our firepower and render our numerical advantage meaningless.

Forty-five minutes, I reminded myself. The batteries that powered their shields would only last forty-five minutes. If we survived the first hour …If …

“Win or lose, there will be no returning from Earth. The Unified Authority has a temporary broadcast station near Mars. We believe they will destroy the station at the first sign of an invasion. Before I assign men to the invasion, I am going to ask for volunteers.”

The enthusiasm vanished. No one spoke as the electricity drained from the air.

“We’re going to reserve one-third of our fleet to escort our barges, the rest of you will be assigned to the invasion. Any captain who wishes to enlist his ship in the invasion, please stand.”

The blinding lights rolled from Holman and down to the audience. My eyes were tired from the glare, and the druginduced drumming in my head made it difficult to concentrate; but when the lights shone on the gallery, it looked like every man was on his feet.

The meeting ended much the way it had begun. Holman got the ball rolling by summing up a bad situation. He finished by thanking his officers for their courage, then reminded them that our struggles would extend long beyond the combat.

“Once we establish our colony on Terraneau, every day will bring new battles. We will need to fight to plant crops, then keep those crops alive. Finding water will be a struggle. So will establishing a new nation.

“Those of us invading Earth will be tasked with governing a hostile planet. You will guard the planet until the aliens attack, then, if you survive, you will face the same day-to-day challenges that we will face on Terraneau.

“We are going to divide our forces, and neither side will ever know if the other side survived. Earth will be removed from our broadcast grid. The only way we will know if the invasion of Earth succeeded is if it fails, and the Unified Authority attacks us.”

As he closed the meeting, Holman said, “I came here hoping for a few volunteers. Nearly all of you have volunteered. Because of your bravery, I must decide which of you will escort our barges to Terraneau. Those of you I assign to Terraneau will have the easier job.”

He should have known these men would volunteer for the harder duty once he leveled with them. I’d wager that none of them had ever seen an admiral willingly level with his men. With one quick speech, Holman had raised himself from admiral to messiah.

Besides, their neural programming included the drive to volunteer. They would pick the harder job, and they would fight; but that didn’t mean they would like it. I knew, because I didn’t like it. Holman had originally asked me to ride the barges, and I refused. I was going to face the Earth Fleet. If I survived, I would face the aliens. If I survived again, I would colonize a scorched planet. I volunteered for the hard fight. I hated myself for doing it.

Earth was due for a baking, and Holman would not send the barges back to Earth once he’d landed everyone on Terraneau. He couldn’t; without a working broadcast station, the Sol System would become a dead end. No one and nothing he sent to Earth would ever return, including his Fleet and his Marines.