Chapter 1 of Into the Void
March 30th, 1123Edit
“So, how have the results turned out?” asked Tuaghmi, Grand Admiral of the Imperial Mayngrim Galactic Fleet, member of the Council of Elders, and war hero. Grand Admiral Tuaghmi was at the top of the world. Her world, at any rate. And she loved to remind her inferiors of that fact. Despite that, they all respected her. She had made sure of that when she had saved her homeworld from those vile Horanthians.
“Yes, Grand Admiral.” answered Admiral Shlamb, her second in command and most trusted officer. "With the current rate of development of planet, by the time it takes for us to get back to Mayngrim, then for the Imperial Fleet to get here, they will be experimenting with muskets, and will be riding on their mounted creatures called "horses". Basically, they will be horribly inept to stop us."
"Good. We will crush them all." said Grand Admiral Tuaghmi.
May 2nd, 2014Edit
“How much for that Mark 23?” asked his customer. Sometimes he hated this job. The price tag was right there, but that idiot was stupid enough that he didn’t understand. Idiot.
“It’s 2,100 for a new one, 1.5 grand for a used,” answered David.
“Could I have it for a discount?” asked the annoying customer. “Does it say there is a discount?” answered David. “No, but—,” the customer said. “Well, if there’s no discount sign, then IS THERE A DISCOUNT?” “Well, no, but--,” the customer attempted to reply. “Well if there isn’t a discount sign, THERE IS NO DISCOUNT! There are no buts, and I am not in hell going to give you a discount. In fact, get out of my store.” The customer attempted a rebuttal. “But—.” “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STORE!” yelled David. Finally, the customer left. What the world was today.
* * *
Major Danny Anderson was a flyboy, in the United States Air Force, as a pilot of the new F-31 Predator fighter bomber, stationed in the new Madison Air Base in Texas. He loved to fly is F-31, but he didn’t understand one thing. Where did they think of all the numbers for the planes? That was the confusing thing. But, he didn’t care, as long as he had his plane beneath him and clear skies around him.
“Grand Admiral, you might want to look at this status report.” Said one of her aides.
“Give it to me,” answered Tuaghmi. “What is this?”
Her aide said, “Um, sir, when we came here, this . . . civilization was classified as Advancement 11, sir. We expected that when we came back, they’d be around Advancement 6-7 when we came back, with tercios, halberdiers, and arquebuses. However . . . well, it may be hard to believe, but it seems as if they have leapt from an Advancement 11 to a . . . well, I can hardly believe it, but an Advancement 3 or 2 in 1,800 standard years, at around 8 times the universal norm. We are detecting radio signals, nuclear power, sir. However, they still are burning hydrocarbons for fuel, and in every way, they are much more primitive to our own technology. But this . . . it troubles me, sir. I have never seen a civilization leap almost 10 levels in less than 10,000 years . . . it’s just astounding, sir.”
“So . . . what would this impact on our plans?” asked Tuaghmi.
“Well, we really think that it will not impact it as such that it will fail, due to their primitiveness. But, I believe that our casualty count could be much, much higher than our estimates, due to this species’ exponential development.” Responded her aide.
“I see. Very interesting. Admiral!” said Tuaghmi.
“Yes, Grand Admiral Tuaghmi?” said Fleet Admiral Schlamb.
“Go ahead with the invasion. Crush them like gnats, but we may have to add some more targets to the package. Target the capitols, militaries, and infrastructure. Remember, we are going towards a 40-60 percent casualty rate for them, a little less for us."
* * *
Michael Douglas was not an idiot. And he certainly was not retarded. He was 17 now! He was old enough to drive. Not legally, no. But technically, he could drive pretty well since he was 15 and a half. Even so, he knew that if he was caught right now, in his dad’s F-150E, the latest version of the F-150, he would be fined, ticketed, grounded, and most importantly, his driver’s license would be revoked until he was 18 by his parents.
‘Oh, crap, there comes a copper.’ he thought. Worse, it was a county sheriff. Sheriffs were always more picky on underage driving than state cops. Oh, no, he put on his lights . . .
Michael was forced to a stop by a Marion County Sheriff, whose name tag identified him as Matthew Saunier. “Driver’s license please.” Requested the sheriff. Michael answered with a “I don’t have one,” with the hopes that Matthew Saunier would be one of those kindred spirits who would give him a warning and let him go. Unfortunately, Matthew Saunier was not one of those people. “You do realize that it is illegal to be driving without a—“ those were the last words of Matthew Saunier. At that moment, there was a bright flash, and Indianapolis, Michael Douglas, and Matthew Saunier faded from history.
* * *
David King saw 3 flashes as he left his store to lock up for the night. Then, he saw something that brought horror to his eyes and instantly brought him back through time to Dubai, as he watched mushroom clouds in the distance in the oil fields and cities of Arabia. As he watched, three mushroom clouds opened up, followed immediately by 2 more.
“We’re under attack!” he yelled! He thought that an EMP would follow up any second, but it never came. David climbed into his Hyundai Sonata and drove up to his home, where he lived alone. He had to warn everyone! While it was highly unlikely that whoever nuked those places would nuke the small town of Carmel, Illinois, they had to get out. Something was happening. And he didn’t know what to do.
* * *
“What the hell is happening!?!?” yelled Sam “Sledge” Miller’s neighbor, Bob Stevenson. Sam, who insisted that everyone call him Sledge, was a computer programmer who lived in Houston, Texas. As he left his home, he saw chaos around him as he spotted mushroom clouds in the air. He suddenly felt exhausted, as he remembered scenes from the Great Middle Eastern War that had claimed over 13 million lives. But it wasn’t in some faraway place, in Saudi Arabia, Iran. This was happening here. Now. And Houston might be hit any second.
“We gotta get out of here!” Sledge yelled back at Bob and the rest of his neighbors. “We’re under attack!”
“We know!” yelled back Bob. “But what do we do?” Sledge answered, “Pack everything you can. Houston’s gonna be hit any minute, I can tell you. No way would anyone miss this target. And if they did nuke Houston too, he wasn’t going to be around to see it.
* * *
Danny Anderson rushed out of his “dorm” in the barracks at Anderson Air Base as he heard enormous roars and booms in the distance. As he ran out, it became evident that half of the base had heard it too, and a huge crowd was gathered outside. Sergeant Christian Naff attempted to create order, but soon fell silent as he saw the mushroom clouds in the distance.
“What the hell is going on?” asked his fellow F-31 pilot, Carolina Vaillancourt.
“I have no idea,” answered Danny, “But something’s happening. Something big.”
Danny was known for stating the obvious.
Danny realized one thing. If the people in Washington or Langley or wherever had detected launches, from whatever country, wouldn’t orders have come to them to scramble, or at least something telling the what the hell was going on? But apparently, no message had come in, nothing for the higher ups.
“Should we start scrambling our planes?” asked a pilot in the crowd.
“Well, we’ve gotta wait for orders from the higher ups.” Responded another pilot.
“We’re gonna get smoked by whoever’s launched those missiles if we wait! They couldn’t have missed the biggest airbase in Texas. It’s just not rational. If you were going to knock out someone’s military in Texas, Anderson Air Base would be the first target. Why the hell would we not be dead right now? Whoever's done this has just left alive the biggest military base in Texas, and we're one helluva big base." That drew a few chuckles. They needed that, to keep them sane. <p style="margin-top:12.0pt;margin-right:0cm;margin-bottom:12.0pt;margin-left: 0cm;line-height:17.25pt;vertical-align:baseline">There was no response from the crowd.
One Day LaterEdit
“Shall we begin our message, Grand Admiral?” asked Schlamb.
“Yes, let us begin now.” Answered Tuaghmi. “Let us begin.”
As soon as Tuaghmi gave the order to begin, the Mayngrimians hacked into every television station still working, every radio station, internet site, and broadcast the same message, over and over again.
Message broadcast to Earth:Edit
Citizens of Earth! I am Grand Admiral Tuaghmi of the Imperial Fleet. We of the great and mighty Mayngrimian Empire have come in war, but if you submit honorably now, we will stop all military operations and the bombing of your cities and your peoples.
I am sure that by now that you have realized that you have no hope, and that if you continue to resist us, your people will be dead, and your cities laid to waste. Every nuclear weapon on this planet has been destroyed, as well as every naval vessel, every military installation, and many population centers. I regret to tell you that over 1 billion have died from our kinetic energy strikes, and that more will follow if you continue to resist.
If you submit now, we will turn your great planet Earth into a galactic power, albeit with submission to the Great Imperial Majesty Huambh, our Emperor and Lord. Come, do not deceive yourselves, thinking that you can drive us out. It is impossible, and resistance will only result in the death of your peoples. Surrender now, and live.
* * *
David King heard the message from this . . . Grand Admiral Tuaghmi of the Mayn-whatever Empire. And he only had two feelings inside him. Anger, at the deaths of so many fellow human beings, and at this . . . Admiral’s apparent lack of care that he or she or whatever it was had simply extinguished, wiped out a billion people. He also felt fear, that he might be next on the death toll, that he might be killed by these aliens. He felt a sadness that he had never felt before, that his parents, living in New York, were now dead, that his brother, in Washington, was probably also dead. However, right now, he was too shocked, scared, and sad to be angry- which was good for the aliens. <p style="margin-top: 12pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-left: 0cm; line-height: 17.25pt; vertical-align: baseline; text-align: center;">* * *
Sam was at his home, listening to Radio News Broadcast, or RNB, for news on what had happened, when he heard the broadcaster’s voice suddenly be cut off, and replaced by a voice that he could only describe as reptilian, with no feeling or emotion. As he heard the broadcast, he felt his heart churning, and his stomach threatened to empty itself as he heard the death toll all around the world. He knew that his relatives in Washington must be dead, along with his best friend, who was in Seoul, South Korea at the time, visiting his relatives. Suddenly, Sam got on his feet and smashed his TV, and then threw his radio into the hallway. He then stormed out of the house, got in his car, and began driving. To where, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care.
* * *
At 3 AM, Danny and the rest of the base was woken up by a blaring alarm, and an announcement over the speakers that said that they had spotted several alien ships on radar. Danny could hardly believe it. The United States and virtually every major power, or at least former major powers in the world had used to have stealth fighters/bombers capable of going undetected on radar, but here were these aliens, just strolling into Texas at 700 mph, not even going supersonic! ‘Those idiots. We’re gonna give them one helluva beating,’ thought Danny.
As Danny climbed into his F-31, he thought, ‘I sure am lucky that I get one of the 4 F-31s in base. The others get either the F-22 and F-15, which were not bad, but not as good as the F-31, which could go up to Mach 2.7 for short periods of time, while remaining more heavily armed than the F-22. It truly was a miracle of modern science. As he spoke to his co-pilot, Harriett Opper, he felt a tingle up his spine. Something was about to happen, big time.
As Danny and his team of 4 F-31s, 4 F-22s, and 2 F-15s took off, Danny had a million thoughts racing through his head. Would this be his last flight? Would he die, or any of his friends die? Danny had never really thought about dying before, leaving that to the Marines or the Army. However, as he approached the alien convoy, he began to feel a sense of anxiety well up in his stomach, as that he had never been in contact with anything like this before. Just as he was in the middle of his thoughts, he was contacted by base.
“We count 52 bogies, in groups of 13, arrowhead formation. Seems to be transports, no weapons detected, but be careful, boys. Good luck, and God bless the United States of America. Godspeed, gentlemen.”
Danny had never heard base put any reference to “God” or religion ever, but here base was, stating “God” twice in his announcement. Danny began to pray, something he had not done in over 20 years, since he left his church in Montana in college. He prayed that he would not die, that none of his colleagues would die, and that they would kick some serious ass in the aliens. Most of all, he prayed that his family in Wisconsin were safe, and that Sam and Andrew and Dana were safe. He prayed like he had never before, yet with his eyes open, looking out for bogies. And as he was within 7 miles of the alien convoy, he said, “Let’s kick some serious ass! Hoo-hah!” which was met by cheers and whoops from his four other pilots.
“I have tone . . . lock!” Danny said as he locked onto a transport at the middle of the convoy.
“Tone . . . lock!” he heard from other pilots. After seemingly an eternity, he heard the order coming from base.
“Fox three!” he heard from base, indicating to unleash their deadly AIM-210 AMRAAMs, which had a range of 52 miles.
And then came, “Fox two!” which said to unleash their even more deadly AIM-10A Sidewinders.
He watched as every fighter in his 10 fighter group unleashed Sidewinders and AMRAAMs at the enemy more than 5 miles away. He watched as the radar showed the missiles approaching the enemy ships, and showed them being destroyed one at a time. He watched as the transports attempted evasive maneuver, but utterly failed. He watched his missile through the head’s up display, as it crashed into its target, but failed to destroy. He watched as three more missiles slammed into it, finally destroying it. He watched as another missile, headed for the same target turned and slammed into another one. And he watched as every transport was hit, and fell to the ground in flames. He felt no remorse for the aliens, no mercy. Instead he felt a cold fury inside him as he remembered the broadcast he had heard. “. . . over 1 billion have died from 1 billion have died from our kinetic energy strikes, and that more will follow if you continue to resist . . .” it kept on repeating over and over in his head, and as he watched the last transport fall, he felt a cold exhilaration at avenging those 1 billion souls, ruthlessly wiped out by an alien race, stamped out like cockroaches.
* * *