Chapter 23: Shaking Ground — Part 8

“Yes, General. Closing frequency and initiating as commanded.” Staven said, not letting even a hint of a smile cross his face.

Staven ‘The Spike’ Winters looked back at his fellow troops, well paid mercenaries every one of them. He smiled, impatient to get on with the killing. “We’ve got our orders. Launch those missiles.”

Johnson, his face an unreadable mask, jacked his laptop into the computer through a portable interface, and began typing in commands. He’d been the son of a great Satrap once, but a young Enforcer had changed all of that many years ago, with the destruction of the Hierarchy of Planet Johnson, and the resulting dishonor of the Johnson name. Rather than become a nameless Class Two, he had chosen to hire on with “The Spike” and fight against the Cynosure. Now, even with relative order returning to Earth after years of battle, the Cynosure would crumble and Mother Earth would be theirs for the taking. The Spike and his associates had been promised the base and the city it occupied.

A massive flat screen began to glow after decades of darkness, showing a map of Earth and its various continents, little dots lit up at various points around the globe. Winters and his crew were stationed at what had once been known as South Africa, near a landmass that had been believed to be the cradle of humanity. Around the world, he knew, in rooms just like this one, well-trained troops like his were following their orders perfectly. There was a small moment when the system began counting down, and targets around the world began to glow red, matching the glint in Staven’s eye.

“Sir . . . ” Johnson interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes Johnson.”

“We’ve initiated an international target point nuclear strike.” Johnson said quietly.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Staven said, his voice a hiss of pleasure. “The names Winters and Johnson shall truly know honor in the new order.”

Johnson’s face was pale, his voice a hiss of a different nature. “Yes sir, I guess you’re correct. But if I’m reading the trajectory map accurately, we are at one of the target points. Us and all other nuclear/tactical facilities once controlled by the Cynosure are target points for each other. This base, and the city around it, is about to be leveled by no less than ten warheads.”

The Spike felt his eyes widen and tighten then slit angrily, almost before his mind registered the emotions. His face burned red with rage. “Is there anything we can do?”

“No sir, those missiles were launched from another target point. In twenty three minutes, all nuclear activation points will be ash.” Johnson’s voice was detached. “We were double-crossed, sir. It would be best, I think, for us to leave.”

“Radioactive fertilizer is not what I signed on for.” Staven said. “Let’s get to our ship and get out of here.”

Johnson led the small away team to the ship, which had lain dormant for three long years. Its tachyonic drive hummed slowly to life, followed by shielding activation and lift. Not bothering with a course, Staven brought the ship out of the hangar manually, then lifted it into space, narrowly missing the nuclear devices heading back in on their paths of destruction. From the safety of distance, Winters watched Earth bloom in flame. Twenty-seven precise points of destruction triggered earthquakes and tidal waves that leveled cities along the shores. Thousands of points of destruction on every continent marked the end of nuclear military establishments the world over. They had succeeded in destroying the Cynosure’s nuclear arsenal, leveling their major cities, and destroying every military base on the planet, but the land they had been promised would be unlivable for thousands of years to come. Nothing more remained of their mission, and nothing was supposed to remain of them. The soldiers at other points, Winters was certain, were not so fortunate as he.

Winters looked angrily at his crew. “We’ve been cheated, boys and girls.”

“The General set us up good, didn’t she?” This comment came from Johnson, who sounded something like a rat-ferret hybrid, at times.

“We’re not working for the General anymore. Anybody who wants to is free to leave now. I’ll take you to the Port of Ceti One and ensure your safe passage on another vessel.”

Nobody said a word.

“So where are we going, anyway?” The navigator asked once it was apparent that Staven had drifted off in his considerations of the future.

“Far away. As far as we can. We’ll take passengers on at a port of call and start our own country on a rock as far from the rest of the human race as can be managed and still get back for raiding. No more politics for me. I’ll be a pirate first.” The Spike leaned into his chair. “Set course for Ceti One.”