Attack of the Federation
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About this ebook
Six fascinating short science-fiction stories show you what life is like when your planet is under attack. The enemy is not always who you think.
Attack of the Federation showcases the talents of some of today’s newest writers, each with a different take on just who the Federation is, and it’s up to you to decide who is in the right.
Zimbell House Publishing
Zimbell House Publishing is dedicated to promoting new writers. To enable us to do this, we create themed anthologies and send out a call for submissions. These calls are updated monthly, typically we have at least four months worth on our website at any given time. To see what we are working on next, please paste this link into your browser and save it to your bookmarks: http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/contest-submissions/ All submissions are vetted by our acquisitions team. By developing these anthologies, we can promote new writers to readers across the globe. We hope we've helped you find a new favorite to follow! Are you interested in helping a particular writer's career? Write a review and mention them by name. You can post reviews on our website, or through any retailer you purchased from. Interested in becoming a published author? Check out our website for a look behind the scenes of what it takes to bring a manuscript to a published book. http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/publishing-services/process-behind-scenes/ We hope to hear from you soon.
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Attack of the Federation - Zimbell House Publishing
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. All characters appearing in this work are the product of the individual author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the written permission of the publisher.
For permission requests, write to the publisher:
Attention: Permissions Coordinator
Zimbell House Publishing, LLC
PO Box 1172
Union Lake, Michigan 48387
mail to: [email protected]
© 2018 Zimbell House Publishing
Published in the United States by Zimbell House Publishing
All Rights Reserved
Trade Paper ISBN: 978-1-947210-31-8
Kindle ISBN: 978-1-947210-32-5
Digital ISBN: 978-1-947210-33-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018902376
First Edition: March/2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
Zimbell House Publishing
Union Lake
Acknowledgments
Zimbell House Publishing would like to thank all those that contributed to this anthology. We chose to showcase six new voices that best represented our vision for this work.
We would also like to thank our Zimbell House team for all their hard work and dedication to these projects.
A Change Will Come
Dr. Oliver Brady
The heat from the sun was merciless.
It was mid-day, and it seemed to come from directly overhead. Garek felt like all of the moisture was being sucked from his body through the top of his head.
He took the bandanna he wore, his helmet long since gone in the first skirmish that led to this sorry state of affairs and soaked it with water from his canteen. He placed this on his head, and there was a blessed moment of cool before the heat started to return.
Don’t be a fool Garek,
said the soldier beside him. We might not be back to that pool for a while. The water has to last.
Garek looked at the man beside him. Where he was tall and lean, Jared was short and squat. If the light was bad and he remained motionless Garek was certain he could be mistaken for a boulder.
I grew up here Jar, water is abundant if you know where to look,
Garek said, a touch condescendingly.
Jared looked at him a second and began to laugh. It was a rough sound, almost a croak brought on by the dehydration and dust in the air.
What’s so funny?
Garek asked, his voice barely containing his annoyance.
You are Garek. We live in a universe with a billion planets. The Federation controls millions of them. We are at war in hundreds of thousands. Yet the fates somehow saw fit to bring you home to die,
Jared wheezed and coughed hard as he said the last. Then slumped off the rock he had posted on and hit the ground hard.
Medic!
Garek shouted and rushed to his fallen comrade.
Jared felt warm to the touch, and there was a sheen of sweat to his skin. He opened the buttons of his friend’s shirt and felt his chest. His heart beat erratically and seemed to be fading. Garek took his canteen and was uncorking it when he saw the blue veins standing out on Jared’s neck. They had a strange, unmistakable iridescence and he stopped.
Garek stood. As the medic approached, he held his hand up and said, Stop!
in a loud and clear voice.
He has been poisoned. He must have been cut in the battle. And the blade had poison on it. Revanis. There is no cure.
Garek had seen the effects before when he was a child. Two neighbors had gotten into a feud over some land, and they had escalated into a blood feud. The only way to settle it had been combat in the main square. Everyone had gathered around to watch.
Mendar was a great warrior and had tried to avoid this at all costs. He had petitioned the Grodok of the tribe and asked him to intervene as the land had been his family’s for generations. He had allowed Simran to plant Kashvik, a grain, on it one season and the next year Simran tried again. When Mendar told him he couldn’t, Simran had started raiding his house and driving the problem further. Eventually, it led to this.
Garek could remember the look on the two men’s faces as they squared off. Mendar was angry, looking like someone who was being forced to do something distasteful. Simran was smiling. After the first blows, it became obvious why.
Simran had run forward and attacked with a vicious cut that Mendar easily blocked and tried a counter. As his knife had come toward Simran, he stepped aside and aimed a strange blow at the leg of Mendar. It glanced off the armor there and caused a slight scratch on his calf.
Mendar took two steps and collapsed. His body convulsed and his mouth foamed. The veins on his neck turned blue, and he suddenly stopped moving.
The crowd was hushed as Simran roared and kicked the fallen warrior.
Revanis,
a clear, strong voice called out is forbidden. You have killed a good and brave warrior today Simran, through treachery. You must pay the price.
The Grodok, Garek’s father, was a powerful man. He took his spear and with one huge effort hurled it through the air to crash through Simran’s chest. The man collapsed, dead.
Simran’s lands now fall to the family of Mendar. And his family are to serve as their vasaks for one generation.
The crowd had gasped. Vasaks were almost slaves in the village.
Later that evening Garek and his brother, Joakim, had sat with their father.
I made that decision so that men would know the laws cannot be ignored. No one will use Revanis for a long time now.
Garek had thought for a moment. Why did you let them fight?
he asked in the end.
All men must choose their own fate, Gar. I can only advise and dispense Justice. I do not control. No one should control,
his father had said, his voice soft.
But aren’t you controlling Simran’s family? Will Mendar’s family will be cruel to them? Couldn’t you have stopped two deaths and a generation of torture by stopping this today?
Garek insisted.
Mendar’s family will obey the rules. They will not mistreat Simran’s kin. If I start to dictate how men make choices, I am no better than a dictator.
Gar has always had that kind of view father, he might as well be a soldier for the Federation,
Jaokim said, laughing. His father had laughed.
No-one had laughed five years later when Garek had signed up when the recruiter came. He never expected to return to his home planet. His home area even. But the discovery of Dimercurium in the mountains had changed all that. Suddenly, the Federation had a source of the most powerful explosive element in the universe. It wasn’t going to pass this up. The mining had begun almost immediately.
There had been no resistance until the locals saw the effects. The land was laid waste as the invasive process began. Toxic fumes caused disease and death to plants and animals. Rivers and lakes poisoned and entire forests burned.
Then, the attacks began. Miners were murdered and equipment destroyed. The flow of Dimercurium slowed and finally stopped.
Eventually, the Federation was forced to send troops to ‘Keep the Peace.’ Garek was part of the five-hundred men assigned. After all, what could some savages with swords and bows do against the might of the Federation’s Marines?
Garek was snapped out of his reverie by a command from the Captain, Put him out of his misery Sergeant.
Garek pulled his laser pistol from the holster at his hip. He could see Jared was dying. The form of Revanis used was different from Simran’s. Dried and mixed into the metal on forging, it made any cut fatal in time but wasn’t fast acting like the fresh equivalent. If a warrior accidentally nicked his fingers while cleaning, he could cut it off before the infection spread. It was an archaic practice and had been outlawed at the same time as the liquid smeared on his sword by Simran. It was a bad sign that it had been allowed again.
The laser in his hand was coded to only work with his DNA. The Federation had learned from its early conflicts with less developed species—a captured weapon can hurt your soldiers as much as it can hurt theirs. Now all weapons would only work for one person. It meant that a soldier had to take care of his own equipment because he couldn’t easily pick one up from a fallen comrade. A gun could be re-programmed, but it took a long time and required several codes.
There was a slight recoil when he fired the pistol. It had been a shock the first time it happened.
After being taken for training, Garek had been shocked to learn that all soldiers in the Federation were taught science and math before they were allowed to fight. They were also taught tactics and communication skills. It had been a long year before he ever held a weapon. In that time he had studied all the weapons he would use and the physics that controlled them. He had learned the history of the Federation and the planets that formed them.
At first, Garek had assumed the language barrier would be a problem. His native tongue was wildly different from that used by Federation members. But on his first day, he had received an implant. It was placed in his brain at the language center. In time, he would learn that this little device had been the driving force behind the rapid expansion of the Federation.
The implant translated all languages into the native language of the listener. It learned any new language when created and was able to pick out tone and intent. In a universe of millions of species, it was invaluable. And the Federation had kept it to themselves. So when their early ambassadors had met a new species, they had fumbled around, pretending to not understand each other while they fully grasped the words of the species. This led to a huge advantage in a confrontation. After some time, the implant had been modified to allow written word be understood. That led to victory after victory as communiques were intercepted and interpreted.
He had been shocked by the recoil as the laser produced pure light. Concentrated and containing a lot of energy, for sure, but it was still light so should have no mass. Yet it kicked when the beam left the weapon. The first time he fired one he had dropped it.
The beam left the gun, and he absorbed the recoil in his powerful arms. It struck Jared, and he shook once, then was still. The blast had been almost too fast for the eye to see. The aftermath was not. No blood seeped from the wound, the intense heat having cauterized the edges. The hole formed in the flesh was neat and perfectly round. The flesh around the hole was scorched and blistered in an instant. The cloth of Jared’s uniform was smoldering, and a small flame was spreading across his chest. Garek hated laser blast wounds. A killing shot was instan-taneous. A wound? It brought agony for the victim for a long, long time.
Bury him Garek, then report to me in the General's tent,
came the command from Captain Leerc.
The burial was nothing special. Soldiers are a pragmatic lot. They tend not to be sentimental. Most of Jared’s squad had been with him for several campaigns and had come to like him, but it was hot, and the ground was hard. Digging was not fun in weather like this, and they were quiet as they did it.
When it was finished, four feet deep, two feet wide and six feet long,