Disclaimer: This is a work of (fan) fiction. Events depicted not real events, and characters are likewise fictitious. Events or characters that do correspond with real events or characters, should this be deliberate, are not necessarily depicted as they are in reality, and should not be seen to reflect these events or characters as they are. I do not own the WorldWar series, nor do I own the Race characters, much of the premise etc etc...(is there anything else I have to include here? I'm no IP rights expert, and IP laws are different across different jurisdictions... so... don't sue me please.)
Chapter 1
1991, March 11th...
George McDonald couldn't believe what he was seeing. Ever since he was a kid he was interested in science fiction novels and talk about space and aliens, and that's why he wanted to work at NASA in the first place... but those were pipe dreams from when he was still a schoolboy. This was, on the other hand, was real.
"You seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked his coworker, Matthew Daniels. It was clear as day what they were both seeing but George had to ask nonetheless.
"Sure am, McDonald. Sure am." Daniels face showed same sort of disbelief that George himself felt. The signs were there ever since the Hubble Telescope went online nearly a year ago, but this was the definitive proof. "Pictures of real extraterrestrial space ships! I... I don't even know what to think."
Neither did George. Nobody knew what to think. It was only when George was about a year old that humans first shot their first satellites into space, and only less than a century ago when H.G. Wells wrote War of the Worlds and that humans first began to really ponder about life outside of Earth. In such a short time humanity had come far... and now contact was imminent. To say that everyone in the room was excited was to say that space is 'big'.
The pictures didn't stop, though. More kept coming, from one satellite after another, and NASA was buzzing with activity, even if people kept stopping to gawk in awe. A message had already been sent in the direction of the alien spacecraft, but considering the distance between Earth and the craft mean it would take several months before the craft even receive the message, assuming said message was sent at light speed. That was discounting the fact that it the aliens had to give a reply, and the fact that the aliens might not even understand them.
"Looks like now all we get to do is wait," George said. He was anxious, but there wasn't much else they were able to do. But then again, for a chance to meet with actual aliens, waiting a few more months wasn't exactly too much of a stretch. He wasn't expecting to find aliens in his lifetime at all until mid last year.
"Not exactly," Daniels replied. "Now that we've confirmed alien life, there's probably a lot more to do than just waiting on our backsides."
"Like what? Send a few astronauts up to greet them?" George glanced at his coworker in curiousity.
Daniels waved the suggestion aside. "No, not 'we' as in just NASA. I mean all of humanity. Worst comes to worst, they might be hostile."
That was true, and George had obviously thought of that. Just about everyone was familiar enough with sci-fi tropes to know of classical alien invasion, at least in fiction, and if humanity's internal history gave any hints it showed that fiction might one day turn out to be fact. "You think they're here for a hostile takeover? Tripod fighting machines, flying saucers and lasers?"
"It's just a possibility is all I'm saying," Daniels responded with a shrug. "And we have to prepare for that sort of eventuality."
George still disagreed. This was a species that had the technology to go from one star to the next, something that humans were far from doing, but even with the technology they have terrestrials are more than capable of wiping themselves off the planet. "If they really were here to takeover then they could easily wipe us out no matter how much we try. Just ask the Aztecs."
Daniels gave another shrug. "I know what you mean, McDonald, but if there's just the smallest bit of hope we might as well grasp it. Who knows? Maybe they're just galactic traders."
George paused to give it a thought. It wasn't impossible. Commerce was just a natural way of life and trading existed since prehistoric times. Even the Soviets and Chinese were opening up to the ways of the market. It wouldn't surprise George that space-capitalism is a thing. It certainly helped to explain why there was such a large number of alien craft identified... they're either here for war or profit.
"I'm not holding my breath, anyway," was all George could think.
1991, June 18th...
Atvar found himself awoken from cold sleep after the long journey from Home. The fleetlord of the Race Conquest fleet exited the cold sleep chamber, and passed the physical health checks. The checks were likely unnecessary as the Race had long perfected the technology of cold sleep, making mistakes almost unheard of. Nonetheless, the Race is nothing if not meticulous, and measures are taken to minimise risks, even when risks are near to none.
The Race, as they are known, are anything but risk takers. In their minds taking risks is akin to insanity. Logical beings such as the Race, and their subjects the Rabotev and Hallessi, focus on planning and preparing for all eventualities, making sure there is no detail left unattended so that nothing can go wrong. It is this trait that has made the Race's society as flawless and fluid as it is today, after all. It is also this trait that had resulted in delaying the conquest fleet by a hundred years... or if calculated by Tosev 3 years, fifty.
Atvar had almost thought it as silly, at a point. The original conquest was planned to commence 1,600 years after the probes sent to Tosev 3 had collected information, but the conquest was pushed by 100 years over a debate about whether or not explosive metal bombs and anti-missile missiles would be needed for the invasion fleet, since the Tosevite natives were still sword swinging savages from the images sent by the probes.
It was only after carefully thinking about it, though, that Atvar came to see the logic in the delay. Tosev 3 was a planet drastically different from Home, Rabotev 2 or Halless 1. The Tosev star is a lot brighter and hotter than Home, but Tosev 3 is significantly further away, meaning Tosev 3 would be the coldest habitable planet that the Race has seen. It also had a large body of water, which none of the other planets had, making the planet mostly uninhabitable. Its natives, too were much different from the Race, the Rabotev or Hallessi, being much taller, and having soft skin, and clawless fingers. With conditions so different, it was decided that the conquest fleet would be strengthened in various ways, just to minimise the risk of failure even when the risk was next to none already.
"I greet you, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel, the shiplord of the bannership 127th Emperor Hetto, and Atvar's second in command, was already waiting for the fleetlord in the bridge of the bannership.
"I greet you, Kirel," Atvar responded. "Have the other shiplords been awaken?"
Kirel made the negative hand gesture. "No, Exalted Fleetlord. I am the first shiplord to be awoken, and the others are still in cold sleep."
"Why is that?" Atvar asked. This was unexpected to Atvar, as the other shiplords should all be in the process of waking from cold sleep by now, and the unexpected rattled any male of the Race. "The plan was to have all shiplords woken as soon as we enter orbit of the Tosev system."
"With respect, Exhalted Fleetlord, that was indeed the plan," Kirel affirmed. "However we are not yet within the orbit of the Tosev system. It seems that we have been woken nearly a year early."
Atvar let out an irritated hiss. "Why is that?" he again asked, this time with an interrogative cough. Just like any male of the Race, Atvar disliked change... well, any male of the Race expect maybe Straha.
"I do not know, Exalted Fleetlord," was all Kirel could answer with. "I believe we should be informed of this soon."
Not too long later, Kirel's words proved true as a crewmale of the 127th Emperor Hetto arrived at the bridge. "I greet you, Exalted Fleetlord, Exalted Shiplord," he said. His expression, however, showed that he was significantly rattled. Whatever it was that forced the early waking of the fleetlord and shiplord, it seemed to have unnerved this crewmale. "I have urgent news to report."
"Go on," the fleetlord commanded.
"Yes, superior sir." The crewmale began to explain: "Our computers are showing radio signals coming directly from Tosev 3."
Both Atvar and Kirel both let out hisses of annoyance. It was rare for Race equipment to malfunction, after all... but still not impossible. "It's likely just a mistake," Kirel said. "Have the computer technician fix the computer at once!"
"With respect, Exalted Shiplord, we have already done so," the crewmale explained. "We have checked several times to make sure, but all components and systems are working well. It is impossible that this is a mistake."
"It is also impossible for there to be radio signals coming from Tosev 3," Atvar retorted. "Let me see this for myself."
"Yes, Exalted Fleetlord!"
The crewmale led his two superiors, the two highest commanding males of the Conquest Fleet, to the computer display. Indeed, the computer showed that the ship had picked up radio signals from the direction of Tosev 3.
"It seems you speak truth," Atvar said. "But why would there be radio signals being emitted from Tosev 3?"
"Perhaps probes left over from the initial scan are still trying to send messages to Home?" Kirel offered. It was unlikely that the Race would forget to bring back its probes, and not even Race probes were designed to last 1,700 years, but it was the only explanation he could think of.
"Exalted shiplord, that seems not to be the case," the crewmale said. "The radio signals are not in any form that our computers recognise."
This information made Atvar very unhappy indeed. It meant that something unexpected had come up before the conquest had even begun. He began to recall video recordings of the debate about the conditions and differences of Tosev 3... was this one of the possible risks that the planners on Home intended to mitigate? Atvar certainly hoped not. In the meantime, however, he must do what a logical Race Conquest Fleetlord should do: collect information and begin planning.
"Have our researchers and technicians decrypt the radio signals into a form that our computers can recognise and locate the source of the signals," he ordered. "And wake the other shiplords. We must begin to plan against potential eventualities."
"Yes, exalted fleetlord!"
As the crewmale scampered off Atvar began to feel a sense of unease in his stomach. Just how different was this planet from how he and the planners on Home expect it?
1991, August 21th...
It had been a long year for Dmitri. Even longer than the last two years, which considering the state of the Soviet Union was really saying something. And it seems that the worst has yet to come. Things were so bad that Dmitri couldn't sleep properly, getting up before dawn after just lying down for a couple of hours. Feeling that he had to relieve the stress he decided go outside to get a bit of fresh air. As soon as he was outside on the street Dmitri Alkaev started to light a cigarette.
There were few people out in the streets at this time in the day... but there were still a few. The people of Kiev around him did their best not to look at him, but it was obvious that they were shooting him nervous glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Dmitri had long gotten used to this treatment when he wore his uniform and often when he didn't. Even after all of Gorbachev's Glasnost policies, everyone feared the KGB. In light of recent events people had even renewed their fear of the KGB, and rightfully so. But showing your fear in front of a KGB officer only made you suspicious.
Eventually a young man in a khaki uniform walked right up to Dmitri, completely devoid of anxiety. The fact that he could so easily approach Dmitri made it obvious that he was a KGB agent himself, even without looking at the blue collars on his uniform. The young agent glanced around to make sure nobody nearby could be listening before he began his report.
"Tovarishch Major, we have an agent that has returned from the United States," he said in a brisk but clear manner. The man was Ukrainian himself being an agent of the Ukrainian SSR branch, but he spoke perfect Russian without accent. It was arguably better than the news reporters in Moscow. "He has been brought back from his mission prematurely, but nonetheless has brought vital information from their space stations."
Dmitri didn't need to think hard to realise why the agent was brought back from his mission. The KGB was not what it used to be and headquarters were more worried nowadays about... "domestic issues".
I should retire like Lt. Colonel Putin did yesterday... Dmitri thought. His old commander in East Germany had quit the day after the coup had started. With each passing minute Dmitri could increasingly understand why. The coup planners had originally hoped for support from the public, but the public was overwhelmingly in favour of the Russian President Boris Yeltsin.
"Have you reported this to central command in Moscow?" Dmitri asked. He was working under the Second Chief Directorate, meaning he was to work on internal political control (i.e. keeping an eye on separatists). He wasn't obliged to babysit an agent from the First Chief Directorate (the organisation in the KGB taking care of foreign intelligence).
The chekist agent gave a nod. "Yes Major. However they have said nothing in reply, and so the agent is currently standing by."
It was typical of the past two days of work. Ever since the hardliners took over in Moscow they'd been ignoring everything that wasn't about keeping their grip... this included vital information about whatever it was that was brought over from the United States. From what Dmitri knew of the Second Directorate they had been increasingly focusing their efforts around the American space programmes for whatever reason for the past few months in a way they hadn't since the space race. All that effort suddenly dropped because the central headquarters was too busy playing government. And it wasn't just this information that they had been deflecting... Dmitri had heard next to nothing from Moscow since yesterday, and most of the other KGB branches he could contact were in a similar state of confusion. Such was the short sightedness of the political disputes in the Worker's and Peasant's Paradise.
"Moscow is silent..." Dmitri murmured to himself. He took a long drag from his cigarette, trying once again to ease the stress building up in his mind. "Tell the agent to keep standing by, then try to contact central headquarters again and again until they give you a proper response. Emphasise the urgency of the situation."
"Yes, tovarishch Major," the agent affirmed before walking off and disappearing. As soon as he left Dmitri pulled out another cigarette for another drag. He had heard that in the West there were movements against tobacco because it lead to health issues, but Dmitri didn't care. Smoking was one of the few luxuries that people had in the Soviet Union, especially now that everything was going to Hell. If he couldn't even smoke every once in a while Dmitri didn't really care to live an extra five or ten years when he was old and senile.
Eventually the sun rose and the KGB major decided that he shouldn't stand around idle for the whole day, making his way back to his office. As soon as he stepped into the building he was soon greeted again by the young agent that had reported to him earlier this morning.
"What's the matter? Have you gotten through to Moscow yet?" Dmitri asked. He had other work to do at the moment and he wanted this thing over and done with as soon as possible.
But the look in the agent's expression (though only slight, since he was still a trained agent) told Dmitri that there were things more important than the work he had in mind. "Yes, tovarishch Major..." he said with a degree of hesitation. "But they've much more important things to worry about." He stopped for a moment, but Dmitri kept waiting for him to continue. Not being able to keep the news hidden from his superior the agent said, "It seems that the putsch has failed. The KGB has been ordered to halt all activities."
This had come as a heavy blow to Dmitri. With the failure of the hardliner coup in Moscow the unity of the Soviet people will finally give way to local separatism. If the KGB halts its activities then the Soviet Union is as good as done for! The once mighty Soviet Bear dies not from Capitalist missiles in propaganda, but simply by keeling over and giving up! Even if he didn't support the coup, Dmitri knew that the coup had destroyed what little power Gorbachev had left... now that it was gone, there was nothing left to take its place.
None of this Dmitri let show on his face, of course. On the exterior he was impassive as ever. After taking a moment to calm himself down he decided on taking temporary courses of action. "So be it," he says. "Then I'll go and see what the agent from America has to present myself."
Once again the younger agent hesitates. "Those documents are directed for Moscow headquarters, tovarishch Major..."
Dmitri did his best to bury the urge to sigh. He did so by promising himself another cigarette when he was done. "Don't you see? There is no Moscow headquarters anymore. The KGB, as of today, is no longer a going concern. If that information really is so urgent that it was brought here even with the agent's assignment cancelled then somebody somewhere has to see it and figure out what to do with that information. If that information is not so vital then there's no harm in me seeing it. Since I'm the highest level of command available it might as well be me who makes the decisions on whether it is important and who the information is passed to. If there are any consequences then I will shoulder them. Is that clear?"
The agent thought out the options for a moment. Eventually, though, he came to agree with Major Alkaev. The Union may be on the verge of total collapse, but it was still important to keep the flow of vital information going, and their superiors weren't in a position to punish anyone in the near future. Even if it was against what the KGB usually enforced upon Soviet citizenry, initiative was all they had at the moment. "Understood, tovarishch Major," he said, straightening up and once again looking confident. "The agent is this way."
With the younger man leading the way, KGB Major Dmitri Alkaev walked over to see what he could learn from American Space programmes. Perhaps he could still salvage something out of his position and serve his homeland in some way other than forcing false confessions out of innocents.
1991, August 30th
There'd been a buzz all around Fort Irwin since the news started to leak out around base that there was an incoming fleet of over a hundred alien space ships, and that buzz had been increasing every day as more and more such news started to circle. To Lieutenant Anthony New, though, it was just an exaggerated rumour getting out of hand.
"Don't believe in aliens, sir?" asked the man next to him. The man, Master Class Sergeant Jose Martinez, a stout, if well built man with more experience than anyone else in the company. "I figured with all the books you like to read you would have read some science fiction."
"Books are books," Anthony replied. "This is this. That's that." And to him that's all there was to it.
The sergeant shook his head. "You should keep an open mind, sir. I remember when I first enlisted we thought we'd be dropping into Europe to fight the Russians any day. Things change, sir, and you have to learn to adapt."
Anthony listened to Jose's words, but didn't give off whether he agreed or not. While it was alright to adapt, there were just some things that you couldn't prepare for. If alien invasions were real, it was likely to be one of those things. The Soviet Union collapsing in on itself, however, was something that just seemed more likely with each passing day.
"Let's suppose the talk is all true," Anthony said. "What of it? It just means we go from fighting Iraqis and preparing against the Russians to preparing to fight against aliens. At the end of the day that's all soldiers have to worry about."
Jose raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're a commissioned officer, sir? Because you just sounded a lot more like an NCO just then."
Anthony gave little more than a shrug. Who and what they were fighting for weren't important. Why they fought, however, was. The job of him as an officer was more about figuring out how the fighting will be done.
Anthony took a note of the time. "Well I'd love to stay and talk, but I have to go to a meeting in a few minutes. Colonel wants all the commissioned officers there."
"Of course sir. I won't take up any more of your time."
And with that, Anthony left the Sergeant to do whatever it was that he did in his spare time.
When he got to the briefing room he was one of the last of the ones there. It wasn't that he was tardy, he just didn't see much point in arriving earlier than he had to. He wasn't late either, since the meeting had yet to start. When everyone finally did arrive, the Colonel began.
"Gentlemen. I'm sure you've heard the recent talk going around the Fort about space boogiemen," he said. His tone made it fairly obvious that he didn't really believe the idea of aliens invading either. This was confirmed with his following line, "And I'd like to tell you all now that I think it's a load of bull."
Just when Anthony was about to nod in agreement, however, the Colonel continued. "But it seems what I think doesn't matter anymore. The eggheads at NASA have already confirmed that these alien spaceships are real, and the higher ups have been informed of this several months earlier. Whether these things are here to invade us or here to bring everyone Christmas presents is still beyond anybody's guess, but we've been told now to prepare for any eventualities."
One of the other men in the room, a Major, raised his hand. "Question, sir. If the higher ups knew this months ago, why are they only telling us now?"
The Colonel glanced at the Major. "You pay attention to the news recently? What's the biggest thing that's happened in the past few weeks?"
The Major pondered for a minute, before answer. "There was a coup in the Soviet Union, sir?"
"Exactly," the colonel said. He gave everyone a moment to try and put two and two together, but most of the blank faces in the room meant he had to explain it so everyone was on the same page. "The Red old guard have been edgy ever since Gorbachev started opening up the country. Most of them were, and still are unconvinced that there even are aliens at all. If we mobilised earlier we might upset them... even if things aren't as tense as they were ten years ago, we still aren't exactly chummy with each other. Does that answer your question?"
The major nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good." The colonel looked around. "Are there any other questions?"
Most people in the room shook their heads. Others just stared. Nobody really knew what to make of the news. It wasn't even confirmed that the aliens would be hostile yet. If they really were hostile then most likely the armies of Earth stood no chance, no matter what they prepared. Anthony wondered if this is how the Iraqi soldiers felt when NATO intervened in the Gulf War last year.
"Alright. Make sure your men are briefed on the situation tomorrow. Dismissed."
Not long after Anthony left the meeting did he bump into Jose again. "Hello sir," the sergeant said. "Fun meeting?"
Anthony shrugged. "Well it seems aliens are a thing," he said. "I'm glad I didn't bet money on that."
The sergeant, being the first in the platoon other than Anthony to hear the news, whistled. "Well... isn't that something?" he said. He grinned, partially lost in his own thought by the looks of it. "Just when the Russians are going down and the Chinese getting their arses embargoed, it seems we get an even bigger arch nemesis."
Anthony was about to say that the aliens aren't confirmed hostile yet, but he shut his mouth before he did. Honestly, he realised he was just kidding himself at this point. There was no way that the aliens would come from their own planet to another planet in starships just to say "Hi, welcome to the neighbourhood". There was something else about Jose Martinez's statement that bothered him, though.
"... The Russians going down, huh?" he muttered.
"I know. Amazing timing, isn't it?" Jose said, chuckling a little. "Just when we're about to win the Cold War and take our place as peacekeepers of the world, alien come to take it."
"It almost makes you wish the Soviets would hold on a bit longer, doesn't it?" Anthony said.
"Sir?" Jose raised an eyebrow. "I'm not saying I'm sorry that Communism's going under, sir. I'm saying that the timing means we don't get to be king of the hill."
"But that's the thing, isn't it? If the Soviets are gone, we're king of the hill," Anthony said. "And they're here to take our hill."
Jose paused to think for a moment before he realised what his lieutenant was talking about. With the Soviet Empire disintegrating, Europe trying to reconnect its Eastern and Western halves, and China still way behind, the United States is left to be the head of the world.
And the head is always the number one target.
A/N: I wanted to write a fanfic of the Worldwar series for a while now. The first idea was the Race arriving in 1966, the second was to mix it together with Turtledove's new series "Hot War", where the Cold War turns into WW3 in the 1950s. I ended up deciding to start working on their arrival in 1991, though, because this is exactly 50 years after they are depicted to arrive in the original Worldwar series, and 50 is a nice 'clean' number. It also happened to coincide with the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the start of the "New World Order" where the United States is the world's only superpower for good or ill (considering our other option was the USSR, I'm voting 'good').
I think having the Race arrive at this time is a very good time to explore because this is a time when humanity is trying to find its bearings after having two generations worth of a Cold War, and many major powers were in a state of collapse, or were yet to rise. As a result, unlike in other times after 1941 where humans could easily curb stomp the Race, or earlier where the Race curb stomp us, this is just another time where the fight is 'fair', because as the last lines of this chapter indicate, the US will be taking the majority of the conflict, while the rest of the world is trying to deal with their own troubles.
On a segment by segment basis... I feel the NASA segment and the segment with Lieutenant Anthony New to be a bit weak... the former because I don't know enough about space travel and astronomy (in which case I should probably not be writing a science fiction alt history), and the latter because I've never been in the army, so I don't know what people in the army do when they aren't actually in a war. Another issue that is plaguing development is my lack of knowledge of the United States (which most of you will probably find amazing, since most people on English speaking websites are American) since I've lived in NZ for all my life (though I went to Chicago once, and Boston... once... I think...). A similar problem will come up once I start to write European POVs, and I initially wanted Middle Eastern and Indian POVs as well until I realised I know even less about these regions. If possible, some feedback on whether or not I'm getting life in the US right or if I'm pulling things out of my trousers would be nice... Comparatively I'm more proud of the scene with Dmitri. I quite like writing about the Soviet Union, its rise, fall, and legacy.
I'll be posting this chapter and maybe a couple other chapters up as 'pilot' chapters to see if people are actually interested in reading this, or if this is garbage that I should destroy in explosive metal bomb fire.
Feedback is welcome. Suggestions will be considered.