The Alien Invasion

Chapter 7: Liberating The Farm

Chapter 7: Liberating The Farm

From the personal log of Clifford Croft, nine months after the Invasion of August:

Of course, nothing was that simple, especially when it came to living with Mongo. While he was an invaluable asset when used against the enemy, he tended to create dissension among allies. And I'm not just talking about his tendencies to steal; no, he created worse problems than that. Immediately after dinner, he started talking again about his predictions about the deaths of members of the team.

"It seems to me that if we had stayed put for a few minutes, we would've avoided both patrols," said Gantry, giving Mongo a purposeful glare.

"Yes, yes, blame Mongo, Mongo always at fault," said Mongo. "Always get angry at Mongo, yes. Mongo not the one to tell you to go there. You ask, you ask for help, saying, pleading, 'Where find friend'? Very lost, must find!' And Mongo, Mongo gives you exact direction, even guides you there. But Mongo says, 'Danger. Danger if go there to get friend. Mongo risk life to guide you, but danger.' And this is thanks Mongo gets."

The Clapper clapped twice.

"Mongo thanks you," said Mongo, erroneously taking it as a sign of gratitude.

"What else can you tell us about the future?" Gantry asked.

"You mean your death?" said Mongo innocently. "Mongo see in future that you are very, very, concerned about your death. You blame Mongo unfairly for warning you-"

"That's enough!" I said. "Mongo gets occasional flashes about the future, but they're not always right, and they are always fragmented. He's good as a warning sign, and can spot possible events, but we shouldn't be setting our clocks, or our lives, by his predictions."

"I want to know more," said Gantry. "What are the circumstances of my death? Do you see death for any of us?"

"Death, yes, see deaths, very unsafe business you are in, is no surprise," said Mongo sullenly. "See death for you," he said, pointing a bony finger at Gantry. "And you, and you and you, and maybe you," he said, pointing at Jenkins, Preston, the Silencer, and at me.

"Under what circumstances? When?" Gantry demanded.

Mongo was silent.

Gantry grabbed him by the shoulders, and started shaking him. "Talk!"

Mongo started to sob and weep as he pitied himself. I pried Gantry away. "He doesn't work that way."

"Well make him!"

"Mongo gets flashes, insights, concerning himself and people around him, but that's all," I said. "Imagine if you were constantly bombarded with visions of possible future events, but each vision wasn't longer than a second or two long, and all were disconnected. Would you be able to piece together what they were all about? Would you be able to keep yourself from going mad?"

It was at that moment that they understood. In that moment, they understood why Mongo was what he was.

But my defense of Mongo had an unintended side effect. "Mongo not mad." I heard grudgingly behind me.

"No, of course not," I said. "I meant that you were stressed."

"Yes, stressed, very stressed," muttered Mongo, trying out the word for size. "Made verystressedwhen not appreciated."

Preston asked, "How is it that you are able to have this... ability?"

"Mongo not know. Column not know. Top scientists of Gamma Section not know. Together, know very little. All that is known is that Mongo is not appreciated."

"I'm glad we had this little getting-to-know-you session," I said. "And before any of you start planning for your funerals, remember that what Mongo sees is at best whatmighthappen. Only your overworrying will cause it to happen. On no less than two previous occasions Mongo claimed to have "foreseen" my end, and I'm still here."

Mongo muttered something unintelligible and retreated to a corner with bedding I had prepared for him. He wouldn't make friends easily.

I put him next to the Clapper and Red Sally; they had known each other previously from their time together in Gamma Section. But I made the mistake of moving the Clapper's bedding to make space for Mongo's, and that started a whole new round of discussion and accusations. The Clapper was used to sleeping against that wall, the Clapper didn't want to complain but he wasn't comfortable-

I cut it off almost before it began, moving the Clapper's bedding back where it was and switching Red Sally's bedding (she didn't care where she slept, as long as she slept in something flammable), with Mongo's. But that started a line of complaints from Mongo about how dispensable he felt, and how his feelings weren't being considered.

I screened out the noise from that corner of the room and turned to Preston. "How're we doing, supply-wise?"

"I had a look at what Gantry brought in. We got enough food for five days, maybe four, with the new mouth we have to feed."

So Preston resented Mongo too. "This 'new mouth' led us directly to Jenkins, and will save our lives four or five more times before the month is out," I said. "He's irritating, but he's more valuable than a squad of Jump Troopers." Speaking of them, I wonder what had become of the Jump Troopers, the elite mechanized planetary paratroopers? They had been wiped out in the initial Insect attack, I supposed.

"We'll need more food soon," said Preston. "It seems they're stepping up patrols in this sector. We should probably search farther afield for other supplies."

"You're right. Tomorrow you take Jenkins and Gantry and scout around to see what you can find. I'll take the Silencer, the Clapper, Red Sally and Mongo to scout around on the surface."

"You're splitting us up?"

"There are enough of us to form two teams," I said. "And yes, I'm conscious of the fact that I'm keeping the Column people separate from the Gammas. You just need to build up some more tolerance for them."

"Where are you going?"

"I spotted a hive last week on the surface. They're starting to sprout up everywhere. I want to see what's going on inside one of them."

************

Buildings all over August were being selectively demolished and replaced by large, multi-level hive like structures. So far I had never seen the inside of one of them, a lapse in intelligence gathering that I intended to remedy the very next day. Usually it was safer to move around at night, especially on the surface, but I wanted to be able to see what I was looking at; most of my critical gear, including my infragoggles, had been left behind at the Column HQ in my haste to depart.

My team slunk around on the surface, moving from building to building. The Insects were continuing to build up their forces on August, but the city, covering almost the entire Western continent, was just so big, that it would be some time before they could fill every nook and cranny of it. Certain areas like the capital, at Sarney Sarittenden, which the Insects had taken over as their command, was simply swarming with Insects, but most of the city only had sporadic patrols.

I had noticed a hive being built on the edge of this neighborhood sector, and we went and checked it out from a building across the street. We noticed a steady stream of ground transports loading and unloading equipment and people. Humans. Slaves with control collars. Lots of them, streaming in and out under guard.

"I wonder what's going on?" I said. The Clapper clapped twice.

"Let's go in and burn something and find out," said Red Sally, starting to get out of the squatting position.

I pushed her down and said, "No. This requires a bit more finesse. The only ones who can get into that building are the Insects and their human slaves. Therefore, I'll have to dress for the part."

I took a control collar out of my backpack; several weeks ago I had retrieved it off a deceased prisoner who had been shot in the back; I had cut it off, made sure it was thoroughly deactivated, and then made superficial repairs to allow me to snap it on and off my neck. I put it on now and discarded my backpack and weapons, except for a small blaster I put in my ankle holster, under my trousers. While some of the slaves were wearing the green uniforms of the Insects, others were wearing their own tattered clothing. My clothes were almost as tattered and dirty as the human slaves; the only problem is that I probably looked a bit more well fed than they were. Well, there was nothing I could do about that.

"So you're going to play spy," said Sally disgustedly, curling her lip. "Why did you bother bringing us along?"

Clap clap. She had some support from the applause department.

"I may have a harder time getting out than I do getting in; I'll need you to create a diversion if I'm forced to run for it," I said. "Do you think you're up to it?"

The Silencer drew his guns; Sally's hair turned a slight pink in anticipation; the Clapper put his hands together; and Mongo put his finger to the wind.

"What do you sense?" I asked Mongo.

Mongo paused, and pointed. "Wind coming from that way."

"Wish me luck," I sighed.

The trick to infiltrating a group is to make it look like you were always part of it. If I simply walked across the street and attempted to join the slave procession, the Insect guards would notice something was wrong. So I slunk from position to position, moving steadily closer, until finally only one guard was between me and the prisoners streaming in and out. I held a rock in my hand, which I used to good effect, tossing it far in the opposite direction; it hit the ground with a 'clink!', causing the Insect to look at the noise; when he turned back, he didn't notice one more prisoner moving among the bunch. Mission accomplished.

I have to parenthetically add that this sort of thing isn't very difficult for me; as a Level One Column Operative, one of the Eight, I'm a top-notch infiltrator, and have infiltrated far more controlled societies than this. But it was good to see that a few months of guerrilla combat hadn't made me lose my touch. I followed the line of prisoners shuffling into the hive.

My eyes had to adjust going inside because there was an eerie green light everywhere. We went up several levels, depositing boxes of equipment and supplies here and there, and I could see immediately what this was: a manufacturing facility. So at least some if not all of the hives were manufacturing plants. They were using our resources and our labor to help fuel their war machine.

Once we had delivered the supplies, we were herded back outside to waiting vehicles. "Where are they taking us?" I hissed to a young woman ahead of me in line.

She looked surprised, as if I should already know. She said nothing.

We were getting close to the vehicles. Time was running out. "Where?" I whispered.

"Back to the labor camp," she whispered, glancing this way and that, as if talking was forbidden.

Indeed it must have been, because two Insect guards closed on us and struck us with the butts of their rifles, sending us to the ground.

"Get up," one of them grated through its translator matrix.

Wincing through the pain, I realized I was actually grateful for the chance to reach down so I could palm my hidden blaster. As I got up, I showed my appreciation, first by vaporizing the thorax of the Insect who had hit me, and then blasting the other one, and then in rapid succession two more behind him.

"Run!" I yelled, taking my own advice. Prisoners, at first unsure what was happening, started to escape.

There were other guards further ahead in line, and they started to open fire, hitting some of the fleeing prisoners. But then they themselves were under attack; I didn't have time to observe it at close hand, but I think the Silencer shot several immediately, picking them out effortlessly though the crowd of screaming and fleeing humans. Red Sally caused one to spontaneously combust, and the Clapper hit one of them with its own rifle butt.

In all the confusion, a good number of the prisoners escaped, though the guards were quickly reinforced, preventing the bulk of the prisoners from getting free.

"Thanks for the covering fire, gang," I said, when I had rejoined the group.

"I didn't get to shoot that many," said the Silencer.

"I only got to start one fire," complained Sally.

The Clapper clapped unenthusiastically.

I turned to Mongo. "No comments from the peanut gallery?"

"You will chew on seeds," said Mongo enigmatically.

************

"We should destroy the hive factory," said Preston, over lunch back at the maintenance closet.

"A good idea, if we had some heavy ammo," I said. I chewed on a piece of canned apple as we talked. Suddenly, I felt my mouth crunch down; I spat the food out, revealing seeds mixed in with it.

Preston made a face, but continued with the subject at hand. "We still have some of the explosives left."

"The only problem is that to use them we have to plant them inside the factory," I said. "No, I have a much more pressing target in mind." I paused. "The work camp. There are prisoners who need freeing."

"We don't even know where this work camp is," said Preston.

"But those transports go there," I said. "It will be a simple matter to trace them."

"They're bound to be guarded," said Preston.

"I hope so," said the Silencer, making this one of the rare times he chose to speak.

************

"This operation will proceed in several stages, or steps," I said. "Step one involves the Silencer." As I spoke, we stood a block away and around the corner from the factory we had visited the previous day. Security there had been doubled; but that didn't concern us.

"See that lone Insect guard there, younder, a few hundred feet away?" I said, pointing to a dot in the distance. "I need you to kill him neatly, in one shot, where it won't show."

The Silencer snorted, as if he were still waiting for a real challenge; and he took up his laser rifle (with a silencer fitted to the end of it), and, after a moment's hesitation, fired. The Insect dropped like a sack of potatoes.

We ran over to the Insect body and then the Silencer and I dragged it to the next intersection. It wasn't fun touching the thing, but I had thoughtfully brought gloves. Once we arrived at the intersection I saw an Insect transport approaching. Right on schedule.

I motioned everyone back to the safety of the area just around the corner, then I gave the thumbs up to the Clapper.

He gave me a thumbs up back, with an idiotic expression on his face.

I looked at the Insect body. It wasn't moving.

I turned back to the Clapper. "Now!" I hissed.

The Clapper cringed.

The dead Insect body suddenly stood upright, as if pulled up by strings.

"Good," I said. "Now make it waver back and forth, back and forth a bit."

The body started to waver, then swing, back and forth, as if it were drunk.

"Good, good."

The approaching transport saw the Insect standing in the middle of the road, swaying back and forth; it was obvious that something was wrong. The transport stopped short of the guard, and one of the Insects got out of the driver's compartment.

The Insect who emerged fell to the ground, dead, the instant it stepped on solid ground. Another bug in the driver's compartment, seeing something was amiss, moved to reactivate the transport with its tendrils, but a sudden bolt from the Silencer's blaster eliminated it as well.

We raced around the back of the vehicle, and saw it opening up to reveal two guards and a load of human prisoners. The Silencer got one and I got the other; the only thanks we received for our efforts were a series of shrieks from the prisoners.

"All off, last stop!" I yelled. "Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for this unscheduled stopover, but your guards are experiencing technical difficulties."

The prisoners stared at me with a mixture of shock and incredulity on their faces.

"You're free!" I yelled. "Get out NOW!"

The prisoners streamed out of the truck.

"Now we have a transport," I said. I spoke into my comm. "Step two: Preston, go."

Preston, lying prone in a building just above and almost across from the factory, had one of the parked transports in the scopes of his weapon sights. He depressed the firing stud, and a tiny transmitter lodged itself in the side of the transport.

The Bugs obliged us by giving us several minutes to meet Preston and Gantry at our newly liberated vehicle before driving their ground transport away.

Step three was the pursuit. We followed the ground transport at a cautious pace, but never letting it get too far ahead; the metal walls and canyons of August made it difficult to use a tracer effectively at any distance.

The transport went south for more than two hours, and we followed. It only slowed when it reached a less developed district, one of the few districts left open for farmland.

For although August imported most of its food, it still keep some of its land open for farming. Were the Insects still tilling the land, or were they using it for other purposes?

We parked a safe distance away, and surveyed the perimeter. There was a wire fence around the edge, and sentries patrolling. It was obviously a civilian internment camp.

I looked at the Silencer, and gestured towards the sun, and he nodded. By unspoken agreement, we decided that this was an operation that would best be carried out at nightfall. I spread the word to Preston and the others.

While we waited, we counted guards and studied security measures through electrobinoculars. It didn't look too bad--we counted only a dozen guards, though there could be more in a barracks structure along the edge of the perimeter. The Insect barracks were outside the internment area, where it was safe from attack from the prisoners, but we would have easy access to it. It would be the first to be attacked.

The rest of the afternoon was a tense waiting game. I was forced to bite my lip the rest of the day as I watched how the prisoners were treated. They were forced to work the land, growing oddly shaped green vegetables I had never seen before--presumably food for the Insects. But the Insects were cruel, using whips or their sharp tendrils and claws to assault prisoners who they felt weren't working hard enough.

One prisoner even had the temerity to collapse with exhaustion for a moment when he felt a guard wasn't looking; but within seconds he was eclipsed by a seven foot tall shadow. The prisoner trembled with fright, and the Insect vomited some pink goo on him; and then the prisoner started laughing hysterically, so hard that it looked painful, and then the Insect vomited some more identical looking pink goo, and the prisoner started crying. There must have been a neurological chemical in whatever the Insect was vomiting that worked directly on the brain.

A few of the Insects gathered to watch the spectacle for a few moments, buzz buzzing to themselves as they obviously enjoyed it. Then an overseer called out, and one of the Insects ended their fun by dismembering the prisoner! Swish swish, and his arms were cut off; it was so quick that the prisoner had no time to scream. Then swish swish again, and his legs went off, and then he did scream, but only for a few seconds, for his head went next.

The other prisoners nearby started to scream, but their screams were cut off as the Insects turned their attention on them; and then all was silent, as their horror was checked by their fear.

I raised my rifle in anger.

Preston saw what I was about to do and moved to stop me. "No, Croft, we need to wait until nightfall-"

But I aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. There was a "swwit!" and the Insect who had dismembered the prisoner scratched a slight sore on its body cavity.

I pointed to the tracking sensor, and the blip this Insect now generated.

"Why did you do that?" Preston whispered.

"That one's mine," I said calmly.