Alien Mine Ch. 20

Yaneta showered and dressed, applying a little makeup, eyeshadow, and lipstick to her already red lips, and then slipped silently out the door. It was only five in the morning, but she liked to do a sweep around the president's de-facto White House, which was known as Novo-Ogaryovo. It was located in the Odintsovsky District of Moscow Oblast, west of the city of Moscow. The President had retreated there recently and now spent most of his time here, forgoing the busy commute into the Kremlin. Yaneta was dressed in pants, nice shoes but no heels, and a jacket to hide her weapons.

Leaving the heavily guarded mansion, she followed a now familiar route through the surrounding neighborhood trusting her senses to alert her to any Om presence. They had not detected any since the fight here, but Rhys was convinced they had not gotten them all or that more would be coming. This morning, her route took her through the surrounding mansions, into the less affluent areas, and then back again. Her path appeared random and varied each time but allowed her to cover the surrounding streets quickly and return before the President woke. Turning down a side street, Yaneta noticed a woman she had seen on a previous walk and changed her path so that she would cross the road close to her. The woman was dressed nicely and had two of those annoyingly yappy dogs on leashes. Yaneta nodded as she passed, but her greeting was ignored as they walked by each other.

Om! Yaneta sensed and ducked, springing to the side just as a violet beam passed close to her side. Her monoblade sprang out, slashing at the woman's head, but her opponent moved just as quickly, dodging the blade while stepping inside Yaneta's swing and bringing another weapon into her chest. It was too late for Yaneta to avoid, but her drone bird, which had been following above her, was already moving and down it dove, exploding through the woman/Om head. Yaneta sprang back, waiting for the parasite to emerge, but there was none. Instead of a woman, she was now looking at a Trangrod, similar to the ones that had attacked Sandy in the shuttle.

"Shit, that was close; how did I miss it," she wondered as she pulled her flamer and burnt the body. No one else was on the street, so hopefully, the fight would go unnoticed except for the large burnt spot on the sidewalk. The Binary was already on the way, and she checked the video around Novo-Ogaryovo while activating several tiger drones hidden around the mansion. They wouldn't move yet, but any hostile action toward the President would get a swift reaction from them.

Yaneta watched the small dogs wander off. Dogs, I need drone dogs, she thought, something innocuous that would fit in with the neighborhood, something medium-sized but deadly. She hurried back, the guards passing her through, used to her early morning and sometimes late evening walks. She added a sway to her step for the guards' benefit and strutted into the bedroom. She slipped out of her clothes, all except for the corset, and slid into bed without waking the President but with her weapons close at hand. Yaneta turned on her side, looking at the man who ruled Russia with an iron fist, or at least thought he did. His days were also numbered, she mused while wondering if she would be the one to kill him. The thought did not bother her at all.

***

"So, no further sign of them?" Rhys asked.

"Nothing we can detect," the Binary answered, "but Yaneta said she had seen the same woman a few days ago walking her dog. We have checked the house, and it's empty; the woman lived alone but has disappeared, killed, and taken somewhere, we presume, or perhaps the Om turned her into the Trangrod. There was no sign of blood; just the empty house, and we didn't detect any others," the Binary replied. They were still searching the area and would be back tonight, but all traces of the Om seemed to have vanished other than the one Yaneta killed.

'Ok, scout the area again tonight. Do we know where Pavel has gone?" Rhys asked.

He flew to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, then took a car south to Zamiin-Uud on the northern border of China. He crossed over, and our bugs stopped transmitting."

"Well, that didn't take them long to make the connection; perhaps they know more about China than we do. I want to know when he returns and with whom, especially if he comes back with Chinese. You and Yaneta will need to be there, but perhaps it's time to insert Nelya into this as well."

"Why Me?" Nelya asked, "I have secured my position as Dimitri's heir, but other than that, I have no standing with the President."

"That's about to change," Rhys said firmly; "I had wanted a more gradual transfer of power, but I don't think we can afford to wait."

"How are you going to convince people to follow me? I can't kill everyone."

No, we do need the Military and FSN. Leave them to Sandy and me. We will come out whenever Pavel comes back. Don't let him meet with the President alone," Rhys warned. "The President was going to die one way or another, but I had hoped he could stay on for several months as a puppet, a figurehead. Preferably Nelya would have been ruling from the background, but given his recent actions, I suspect we will have to kill him sooner than later."

Nelya considered Rhys' words and the implications for her. Since her symbiont had matured and she had learned of his plans, Nelya had devoted herself to preparing for this. She intended to rule Russia and make it great so it could play a part in the coming struggle. The Russian people were stoic and strong when the need arose, but they deserved better than this. Corruption and graft were ingrained in the life of the people, but she would root them out and make examples of the worst of them. She and Yaneta had prepared a list with the Binary's help. Their time on Earth was limited.

Nelya thought back to the man who had helped kill her mother, how she had ripped his heart out. She remembered the hatred and rage that had exploded through her and how he had been ready to kill her. She funneled those memories into her anger, allowing the emotions to boil up inside her, a palpable hatred she could feel inside her mind. Nelya released the anger she was holding while concentrating on her 'beast' as the others called it, and then watched in satisfaction as her hand became a wolf's claw, but shaped more like a human hand, with claws made of a Drans bio-metallic material. The back of Nelya's hand and part of her arm were covered in black fur.

"Oh, Yes," she breathed in awe, the sound deep and menacing. It came from her throat, more a growl than words. She wanted blood; she wanted to see the President dead at her hands. I am ready to deal with Rhys' foes.

***

Lieutenant Colonel Sampson couldn't believe what he was hearing. "With all due respect, Colonel taking away my squadron and sending me off to some mysterious assignment for six months to a year is a stupid move even for the Air Force. There is too much happening right now, I have trained for this, and my squadron is one of the best; we know the Chinese, but this is not the time for this bullshit, he said with the best restraint he could muster.

"Sorry, not my decision. For what it's worth, I fought the assignment as well, but this comes straight from the area commander. Pack your bags and say goodbye to everyone; you leave tomorrow at 0800,"

James Sampson was not in the best of moods when Captain Wender found him. What's up, Captain," he asked as he continued packing his gear.

"That's what I wanted to ask you," he said. "I heard you are shipping out tomorrow for some super classified project?"

"That's right, but I don't know anything about it. Why?"

"I got similar orders," he said, "so did my back seat."

The Lt. Commander thought about that. His new F35 fighter was a single-seat fighter, but the older F15s had a backseat navigation and gunnery Officer. "Both of you?" he queried.

"Yep, we are supposed to be on a plane tomorrow morning at 0800."

The LC thought about that for a second, Captain Wender was a hotshot pilot by all accounts, not from his squadron, but he wouldn't have minded having him. "Anyone else?" he asked.

"No sir, just you, me, and Richards, my back seat."

"Interesting; well, say goodbye to Cadena; can't say that I will miss it, but I wish I knew what the fuck I was going to. "

The following day LC Sampson stood with Wender and Richards at the airport. They were flying out commercial, he had thought, but instead were led over to what looked like a private corporate jet, but with an unusual configuration. Everything about the plane looked sleek, almost stealthly and reeked of money, like an over-the-top yacht you might find at Monte Carlo.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen," said a striking-looking redheaded woman standing at the open hatch. Her hair hung down her back almost to the waist, and she was dressed in a sleek-looking black uniform Sampson didn't recognize. She was beautiful was his first thought, especially her emerald green eyes that looked them over and the way she filled out the uniform. He did recognize the colonel's insignia though, and the three of them saluted. He thought she looked too young and beautiful to be a colonel, even in a uniform. "Have a seat; we will be taking off in a few minutes." She added in a low and sultry voice.

Sampson entered the plane and looked around; very nice, plush, even a bar; then he noticed another five officers in uniform, one from the Marines and two from the Navy. There were plenty of empty seats.

"Please introduce yourselves," said the Colonel, her name tag only said, Sandy. She saw him looking at her questionably and smiled. "Call me Colonel Sandy," she said with a smile, "liquor and drinks in the bar, food, and coffee over there; no stewardesses here, so it's all self-serve," she said, turning back into the cockpit.

Sampson introduced himself to the other officers and helped himself to coffee and breakfast, steak, and eggs. I could get used to this, he thought. As Sampson finished his breakfast and second cup of coffee, the Colonel came back into the cabin.

"I wanted to welcome you all aboard," she said, "we will be stopping to pick up the rest of the team in Germany and then stateside."

"How many?" asked Sampson, "that is if we can ask questions, Colonel."

"You can ask all the questions you want now," she replied. "Today, we are picking up ten in total, five pilots and five backseats."

"F35s don't have a back seat," he said, frowning.

"No, they don't," Sandy agreed with that smile that never seemed to leave her face. It was like she found the whole situation amusing, "but your new fighter will," she added.

"When are we going to take off?" he asked, a little unsettled. The uniform the Colonel wore was irregular, to say the least. Form-fitting and a color that seemed to waver between black and dark blue. There was also an insignia on her left breast he didn't recognize, and her hair was way past regulation.

"About three minutes after you came onboard," she added, "and please just call me Sandy; the rank is not necessary." They all just looked at her, unsure what to make of the situation; none of them felt the plane accelerate or move. "You can change the opacity of the windows with this control here," she said, pressing her hand to a control in front of her.

There were a few gasps as they suddenly looked at the sky and the earth from a distance.

"I didn't even feel us take off," said Captain Wender.

Lieutenant Colonel Sampson was looking intently out his window. "How high are we?" he asked with suspicion in his voice.

"Level at sixty thousand," Sandy answered, looking him in the eye.

"Impossible," someone muttered. Sampson just looked at her.

"Speed, he asked?"

"Cruising at Mach 10," she said with that level gaze, looking around at the others.

"Also Impossible someone else," blurted out with a laugh.

Sandy just looked at him. "Is it? We will be landing in Germany in 45 minutes to pick up part of the team, then a short stop in Israel, and then stateside to pick up the rest of your team," she said, turning and heading back into the cockpit, the officers not sure if she was being serious.

Sampson put down his coffee and followed her forward. "Mind if I have a look at the cockpit, Colonel?" he asked.

"Just Sandy, please, and yes, come along."

LC Sampson stopped as he entered, it was unlike any cockpit he had ever seen, modern in a way he didn't understand, chairs with strange controls, a hologram for god's sake, he thought to himself, with complicated vectors showing what he presumed were other aircraft but he was not sure.

"Impressive isn't it," he heard Sandy say.

He noticed they were alone in the cockpit. "No co-pilot?" he asked.

"No, we use an AI, Sandy replied," I don't really need to be up here, but I didn't want to scare everyone too soon."

Sampson took another minute to digest what he saw and started wondering what he had gotten into. "May I," he asked, gesturing to the co-pilot seat while continuing to look around.

"Of course," she said, taking the pilot's seat. "Takes a little getting used to, doesn't it," she said after a minute of silence. Sandy could see he was struggling to take it all in. For one thing, the chair had moved when he sat down, adjusting to him, and another hologram popped up in front of him.

Finally, he turned and looked her in the eye. "I have been flying the most advanced fighter in the world,'' he said quietly; "I don't see how this is even possible. No one builds a plane that can do this."

"No one on earth," Sandy said casually but with meaning.

Sampson just stared at her, realizing what she had said. "Not on earth?" he asked.

Sandy just smiled. Don't worry, LC; you will get to fly the most incredible badass fighter you could hope for, much more than you could have ever imagined. You were specifically selected to command the squadron, and oh, what a squadron it will be. The first of several," she added, "and technology you won't believe until you see it. As for this plane, well, we are not even straining; the engines are bored at this speed."

"What exactly are we training for?" he asked.

"Aahhh," said Sandy, "now you are asking the right questions. I will give you the cliff notes version for now. The Hologram in front of Sampson doubled in size, and he shouted and jerked back as it was filled with an insectoid out of someone's darkest nightmares.

"Trangrod," Sandy said as he watched the image revolve in front of him. "Basic alien soldier, you might say, very deadly. The Trangrod moves at speeds up to 100 kilometers, is more heavily armored than the best tank in existence and moves much quicker than a rattlesnake when it strikes. Its main weapon is a projectile that will go through a battle tank like butter. The front limbs can slice through steel, and its vision covers 360 degrees around plus everything above. We know of three other versions, and you will become familiar with them in your training."

"The Aliens, Om as they are known, are stranded for now here on earth. Their starship was destroyed in the outer solar system by the good guys, the Drans. This is just the advanced party of the bad guys; the rest will be along in about one hundred and fifty years. You and your men will help us destroy the ones here on Earth and then begin preparations to defend the solar system in space. However, your first task will be to defend against an attack by the Chinese. These aliens," she said, gesturing at the hologram, "have somehow managed to take over China. We think the Chinese are collaborating to obtain technology, but we don't know for sure."

"Finally, Sandy went on before Sampson could recover or ask questions, "You and your men need to understand the human race is in a fight for its life. The aliens will strip this planet of all organic life, water, and minerals. If we don't stop them, nothing will be left of the Earth but a literal ball of dirt."

"Why did you choose me?" he asked quietly, still in shock from what he had just heard.

"Command and battle management skills, flexibility, and intellect. You will need all of them in the coming days."

"How long do we have to train," he asked, thinking it would take a long time to come up to speed on a new fighter."

"Two months, we hope, but perhaps less, depending on the Chinese."

"Two months!" he breathed, "I don't think that's possible. It's a new airplane; everything will be different. No, you will be lucky if we are ready in six months," he stated emphatically.

"Don't worry, the planes will all but fly themselves with an integrated AI; you just need to learn the basics and then how to fight your aircraft and the drones. And LC, the two-month timeline isn't negotiable," Sandy said with a smile. "The Commander, Rhys, will explain everything in a few hours," she added.

After picking up the others, Sandy flew the plane to the base in Texas, slowed, and began a mildly bumpy ride to lower altitudes. Sandy sat in the cabin with the officers letting the Ai control their decent and landing. There were shouts of surprise as the flight surfaces changed with the beginnings of vertical thrust, then a descent of 1000 meters straight down a shaft to the underground hanger, a light bounce as it touched the ground, and the silence as power to the engines cut off.

The decent got everyone's attention, but nothing like the sleek fighters lined up did. Sandy let them wander around the planes, climb in the cockpits, and just look in wonder at what they were going to be flying. Turning to LC Sampson and LC Kohen of the IDF, she said, "please assemble everyone." It took a few minutes to pry everyone away from the planes and out of their seats.

"Gentlemen," she said, "time is of the essence, and we will begin orientation shortly. Suddenly twenty floating balls came into the room, stopping in front of each officer. "Follow the drone in front of you; it will lead you to your quarters. There are uniforms in there; shower if you want, but be back here in 30 minutes in the uniforms provided. You will wear them while on these premises and during training. Orientation will begin in precisely 30 minutes, don't be late.

Twenty-four hours later, the shuttle landed after a brief tour of part of the solar system and the wreckage of the alien spaceship. After the officers disembarked, Rhys and Sandy looked them over. Rhys thought they all looked dazed, some hadn't slept in a while, but he wanted them in the simulators before they let them rest.

"Now you know what we are up against," said Rhys. "The planes you are flying are not designed for space; the next iteration will be. First, we take care of problems on earth, get rid of the Om, then you will become our first line of defense in the solar system until we can build larger ships. I am sure most of you are exhausted, but I am going to introduce you to the simulators where you will be spending most of your time for the next week. First, you will learn your roles separately, drone operators/ weapons/tactical and pilots. Then you will begin working together as a team. Dismissed."

"It's too bad you didn't let me recruit some of the women; there were excellent choices there as well, you know," Sandy said in a teasing voice.

"I'm sure," he replied, pulling her into a hug and looking into Sandy's eyes. "You look terrific in that uniform, very non-regulation. How many of them hit on you?"

"The only one with the courage was our Israeli Lieutenant Commander, but don't worry; I didn't damage his ego."

"Good, he will need it," Rhys replied, his thoughts elsewhere.

"More bad news?" Sandy asked, concerned.

"Nothing in particular, but the Chinese are up to something, and the sooner we can get the squadrons up and flying, the better. I want the rest of them, the other twenty from the US and Israel, here in two weeks. Get Kiania up to speed as well, she will have her hands full training the new soldiers, but the Major and the sergeants will be helping her out."