Chapter 3


1992, February 22nd...

Usually at NASA a programme to send a probe around Jupiter would take years, maybe even a decade of preparation and planning before they launched. It would usually take time to allocate funding as well. Then again, usually aliens don't show up hurtling towards Earth unannounced and ignore all attempts to contact, which meant an exception was applicable. Almost everything was put on hold for the Contact programme, and the government was more than willing to pay for the project even before the plan was put forward. In fact, the federal government was pushing the project to be rushed to an earlier date than planned, but were ultimately convinced that such a rush job was doomed to fail. Nonetheless, NASA had sent a space probe to intercept the incoming alien space fleet sometime in November, only eight months after they first confirmed the craft as built extraterrestrial intelligence, and now only three months later they were about to get the first images back from the probe.

"Looks like this is it," George said. "Contact."

Matthew Daniels beside him nodded. George didn't actually see the gesture, but he could feel it. Both of them had their eyes fixed on the display screen in the room"And it seems we're the first ones to initiate it," Daniel said. "Now that we're sending a probe right in their faces I seriously doubt they can keep ignoring us."

George shrugged. Who knows? The aliens had ignored all the radio messages sent by NASA and everyone else on Earth for months now. Why would sending a probe necessarily be different? Maybe the alien spacefleet was unmanned, just like NASA probes. Not that George would bet money on it.

And on the screen in front of them they watched the video feed from the probe. There was a distance between Earth and the probe, so even at light speed the it took a few minutes to get in contact with the probe, and even longer to load images and videos thus meaning the images they saw on their screen were not in real time. Nonetheless, George felt tense.

Gradually the images on the screen displayed the alien spacecraft clearer and clearer. Even though the distance between the probe and the alien fleet was still fairly large George could already see the incoming alien spacecraft to be quite large... although not quite like flying saucers space ships like George had seen in science fiction movies, but more like large rockets not too dissimilar to the ones used by NASA (though visibly more advanced and refined).

Suddenly Daniels turned down at the small computer screen in front him. George noticed the tense expression on his coworker's face, and so he too stared down at the small computer screen. As he did so his heart sank.

"We lost contact," Daniels stated.

Just about everyone in the room somehow heard that comment, as all of them glanced at Daniels with the same look of dread that George must have had himself. It was too early to shrug it off as the probe being destroyed by the aliens, plenty of other things could've gone wrong after all... but again, George wasn't willing to bet on it. With each passing second the odds started to feel slimmer that interstellar war could be avoided.

The larger display screen, showing the video feed from the probe, continued to lag even more behind real time. George started to once again fix his eyes on the video feed, trying to see if he could detect what went wrong with the probe.

The video soon showed about two minutes afterwards, from the alien spacecraft slowly and surely came a small object, hurtling towards the probe. The closer it got, it seemed, the faster it came. Just before the video cut, for a brief second, it was extremely clear what the object was: A missile.

The aliens were hostile.


1992, February 22nd...

Expectations. Expectations are a funny thing. Hitler, and just about everyone else, thought that the Soviet Union would come crashing down when the Wehrmacht started Operation Barbarossa. When Colonel Robert Winters first joined the armed forces, and even before that he was taught to expect that nuclear missiles would be flying any moment, and that either the Russians would be shooting first, or the USA would be shooting first to prevent the Russians from shooting first. Either that or nobody shoots, and the USA and USSR keep playing the Cold War game forever and ever, meaning the he expected the Soviet Union to last forever. Then Gorbachev came, the Cold War began to wind down and the Soviet Union was torn apart, everyone started to expect an era of global peace and the spread of American Values everywhere. And then aliens suddenly showed up, meaning everyone started to expect the aliens to come down to Earth firing lasers and plasma beams to enslave the human race, impervious to all human weapons.

With the recent confirmation of alien hostilities Winters was beginning to hope that the last of those expectations turned out to be as false as the first few.

"Colonel Winters!" called Major General Weinberg. Winters turned to the Major General, giving him a proper salute and Weinberg returned the gesture. "I'm sure you should know the situation we're in."

"Yes sir," Winters said. "I've ordered our anti-space missiles to be on full-alert status. We'll be ready to launch as soon as we receive the orders."

"Good... which means we're only waiting for the green-light from the President," Weinberg nodded, partially content, but only partially. " How many missiles are launch capable?"

Winters hesitated a bit. The Major General had ordered him to get the development team to speed things up, but results were still less than satisfactory. "There should be a total of seventy-six modified Minutemen III missiles that are launch capable, but all of them are not tested and development has been severely rushed."

Weinberg's expression grew sour by the tiniest amount. Seventy-six wasn't enough, and that wasn't even accounting for failed launches or other errors along the way. "Let's just hope we give the aliens a good scare."

"Yes sir," Winters agreed. Of course he wasn't even certain that the missiles would have any effect on aliens, and if they didn't then the aliens might be less scared and more peeved off.

"Major General, sir!" a captain said, rushing over, slightly short of breath. He quickly sketched a salute. "We've gotten word from strategic central command!"

"Well?" Weinberg said with a hint of impatience.

The captain straightened up a bit before continuing. "They said that launch has been authorised by the President and Secretary of Defence."

"The wait is over," Weinberg said. "Order for all anti-space missiles to launch at once! "

"Yes sir!"

As Colonel Robert Winters complied he felt himself overwhelmed with exhilaration. Would the untested modified Minutemen all fail to launch? Would the aliens have forcefields impervious to attack? Or would the Strategic Missile forces blast them to kingdom come before they even set foot on Earth? Things that Winters had tried to prevent himself from thinking before suddenly rushed through his mind as he finally gave the orders that he had once thought would spell the end of the world.

"All silos! LAUNCH IMMEDIATELY!"


1992, March 5th...

Much had gone wrong for Breltan. He was woken from cold sleep much earlier than planned to be briefed that the Tosevites were more advanced than they were seventeen hundred years ago. After that the Tosevites had sent a space probe all the way from Tosev 3 to the Conquest fleet... that too had rattled Breltan's tailstump, something he had not yet forgotten. After that it was reported that an even greater number of objects were launched from Tosev 3 towards the conquest fleet... now Breltan had finally gotten the confirmation that these were missiles.

Radar technician Breltan aboard the 67th Emperor Sohrheb transport ship hissed in dismay as the automatic alarms screamed. He too began to scream with them. "Missiles incoming!"

The Tosevites have missiles! Missiles that shoot all the way into space! he thought to himself in complete shock. Missiles that shot spacecraft were rarities in the Race, since they were never needed... but the Tosevites were firing such missiles at them. On his screen he counted a total of forty-three missiles heading towards the conquest fleet at great speed.

Fortunately his radar soon began to display anti-missile missiles in equal number launching from the 67th Emperor Sohrheb to smash the incoming Tosevite missiles. His mouth dropped open in amusement as he watched one Tosevite missile after another disappear from his radar screen, shot down by the Race's anti-missile missiles.

"You'll have to do better than that!" Breltan said in glee.

But his celebration was short lived. Breltan, as a proper male of the Race, had always learnt that the Race was the most advanced race in the universe. As such he could never imagine technology used by other races that were not first developed much, much earlier by the Race. This factored into Breltan not expecting the Tosevites to fire missiles into space at all, and it also factored into him not foreseeing what happened next.

The Race, having a very short history with explosive metal weapons, had only bothered to perfect the technology, but not to further develop the weapon. All the explosive metal weapons of the Race, therefore, were singular warheads placed on singular launch vehicles, meaning if an anti-missile missile was fired at an explosive metal missile then the threat is neutralised. Tosevites, on the other hand, had developed the idea of having Multiple Independently Targeted Reentry Vehicles and decoy warheads to minimise the effect of anti-ballistic missiles. And so Breltan watched in horror as the last remaining Tosevite missiles, even though there were less than half of them left, suddenly split into three much smaller missiles just before the anti-missile-missile destroyed them, tripling the amount of Tosevite warheads in the air.

"What? They can't do that!" Breltan cried. But it was too late. Even though anti-missile-missiles were once again launched to try and counter the more numerous, smaller missiles they had already come too close to the 67th Emperor Sohrheb, making it impossible to shoot all the Tosevite missiles down.

Breltan braced for impact, hoping that the inbuilt shielding of the ship would mitigate the effect of the missile. However his efforts were futile as five 350 kt warheads detonated against the 67th Emperor Sohrheb's hull.


1992, April 14th...

Dmitri Alkaev, a former member of the now defunct KGB, was not unemployed. All things considered he was doing quite well for himself. As such Dmitri considered himself lucky. Many of his old colleagues were having difficulty finding jobs in new Russia considering there was no longer a need for people with "killing and torturing for the state" as their only skill set.

Dmitri had gathered many other useful skills through his position: The ability to lie through his teeth, to keep a straight face at all times, to think fast on the spot, to control information... and of course, he was also one of the first people in the (former) Soviet Union to know of and acknowledge the coming of an extraterrestrial threat. These are probably what factored into him landing a job as a diplomat in Moscow.

"We... we've arrived," stuttered his interpreter, gesturing to the United States Embassy building just outside the car as the vehicle stopped.

I can see that, Dmitri thought as he got out of the car, though he didn't speak his mind. Dmitri had spent much of the car ride intimidating his interpreter who showed he had a hint to Dmitri's former occupation, but Dmitri knew he shouldn't amuse himself too much at the expense of the poor sap.

After being led to the meeting room and having his interpreter go through the diplomatic formalities Dmitri was soon sitting in a room with his American counterpart.

"I believe you've been trying to get through to us for several weeks now, mister Alkaev," the American said with an annoyingly bright smile. Dmitri's interpreter translated his words from English to Russian. "I apologise for the delay. What is it that you wish to discuss with us?"

"Space," Dmitri replied. His interpreter waited for him to say more, but translated the word when no more came. It was an amusing sight for Dmitri watching his interpreter trying to translate the single word with complete seriousness to be met with a raised eyebrow from the American ambassador. Knowing that neither one of them got the message Dmitri stoically elaborated. "Things coming from space. Things going to space. Maybe even things colliding in space"

"I see," the American's face soon lit up once again with his cheerful and almost smug demeanor. "Yes, I had a feeling you'd want to talk about that. In which case I assure you that the United States of America has confirmed that the incoming aliens were hostile before we had taken action."

"And I assure you that the KGB confirmed people labeled 'enemies of the Soviet Union' were hostile before we took action." Dmitri glanced at his interpreter who was too shocked to speak. "It's fine if you don't want to translate that part. I'll go find a replacement who will."

"Err... no, I'll translate it," his interpreter said, relaying Dmitri's words back to English. Dmitri relished in watching the self-righteous expression fade from his American counterpart as his interpreter did so, though he made sure his delight didn't show on his own face. Before the American could voice his displeasure, however, Dmitri switched to the point of the meeting.

"Two months ago the US had fired such rockets at the aliens and last month the rockets had impacted with the alien spacecraft, but the alien spacecraft continue towards Earth unimpeded. Regardless of whether or not the aliens were considered hostile, this was an act done unilaterally by the United States without consultation of the Russian Federation, or any other country."

"We had informed you of the launch and had been giving you information about the plan to launch early in February," the American replied.

"Informed." Dmitri pointed out. "Not consulted."

After a pause the American once again smiled. This time it was definitely a smug smile. "I think I get where you're going with this. I assure you the United States has the best interest of all people of Earth, including the Russian people in consideration."

And I assure you that the Sovetskiy Soyuz had the best interest of all workers and peasants of the Warsaw Pact in consideration... Dmitri once again thought. But that was the thing, wasn't it? The Soviet Union used to be a massive counterbalance force to the Americans for better or worse. Now it was gone. The Americans were free to do whatever they pleased in the name of "world peace" and didn't need to give a damn if the new Russian government agreed or not.

Dmitri remained impassive. "By firing rockets at the aliens you create a de facto state of war between Earth and the aliens. It remains yet to be seen if the aliens will differentiate you from us. For as far as we know you may have dragged the Russian Federation, and the rest of the world for that matter, into a war that none of us can afford."

The American continued to smile as he spoke, certain of his own correctness. "I understand you concern, Mister Alkaev. I'm pleased to inform you that such a war would not be as hopeless as you may think it is. In fact, NASA has confirmed that our efforts to halt the aliens before they reach Earth have already achieved some success: two alien spacecraft have already been destroyed so far with our missiles. This in and of itself proves that the aliens are not impervious to attack."

That I did not know... Dmitri noted thoughtfully, even as he continued to negate the American's point. "Perhaps not impervious to attack. But from what I know the United States Strategic Command has already launched all of its space-capable missiles, and by the time the you build more the aliens would already be on our heads."

"We'd destroy the aliens before that happens," the American said, still so certain he was absolutely correct that Dmitri was beginning to find it a little jarring. "Our ICBMs will smash them as soon as they're in orbit."

Dmitri felt a sudden chill run down his body. He was able to keep it from showing on the outside, of course, but the sudden realisation that the Americans were willing... even eager to use nuclear weapons against the aliens gave worried him somewhat. Was this how the Americans would've reacted if the Cold War had turned hot?

Gradually, though, Dmitri started to see some sense in the Americans' logic. Nuclear weapons were the best humanity had, and if the aliens were so advanced as to be space-faring then it'd probably be more intuitive to take them out before they even landed, now that they had proof (or at least claimed to have proof) that the aliens were hostile.

As for the rest of the world... Dmitri doubted his superiors would be as eager to lob a nuclear warheads into space, especially with all the budget cuts to the military, and nobody else in the world had the capacity to do something so crazy. The fate of humanity now depends on the Americans gamble. Either the Americans succeed and humanity wins, or the Americans fail and humanity loses.

"Very well," Dmitri said, standing up. "We'll see."


1992, May 30th...

Atvar once again found himself looking at the hologram of a Tosevite warrior riding a Tosevite beast. An image collected by the probe 1,700 years ago (850 Tosev 3 equivalents) of the foe he was supposed to expect to face now that the conquest fleet was about to enter the orbit of Tosev 3.

If only it were so simple... he thought to himself, his mouth nearly opening in a laugh of bitter irony. But things were not simple. The conquest had not even begun and already things were happening faster than he or any of the shiplords could plan for.

Atvar turned off the hologram. It was useless looking at it now. He had to plan for the conquest.

"Shiplords," he said. "The time has finally come for us to conquer Tosev 3. This will be the last meeting we shall have before the conquest commences." His fingerclaw pressed a button and holographic images began to appear as he narrated them. "We are already reaching orbit of Tosev 3, and as we speak we are destroying the Tosevite's communication spacecraft that orbit their planet. As you can see, even though they've advanced far beyond what we had initially expected, their technology is still behind that of the Race."

"You say that merely by looking at the crudeness of their spacecraft?" Straha interrupted with an interrogative cough. "Need I remind you of the Tosevite missiles that had destroyed the 67th Emperor Sohrheb and the 56th Emperor Jossano? Missiles that carried multiple explosive metal bombs each?"

The mention of the destruction of the two starships caused many of the shiplords to hiss in displeasure. The Tosevites had destroyed the 67th Emperor Sohrheb and the 56th Emperor Jossano in a way that the conquest fleet could not retaliate. The latter carried much of the conquest fleet's explosive metal bombs. Two starships of the conquest fleet destroyed before the conquest had even begun!

"Speak when it is your turn, Straha!" Kirel said with an emphatic cough, Atvar's second in command. "Or do you forget your place?"

"What place is there for ceremony if we're up against a foe that could swat us out in space before we can hit them first?" Straha retorted.

"Enough, both of you!" Atvar said, irked that the meeting was already getting out of hand. "We will make the Tosevites pay for the damage they have done! But we must first plan how we shall exact our revenge!"

"I have already said exactly how we should exact our revenge," Straha once again spoke out of turn. "Expend half of our explosive metal bombs on the most advanced areas of Tosev 3! We must teach them that the Race is far, far stronger than they are, such that they will fear retaliation and lose the will to fight!"

Atvar knew of the plan. Straha had indeed mentioned it several times, and although Atvar had negated it each time he was increasingly finding it hard to resist the plan. It was addled, just like all of Straha's other suggestions... but Tosev 3 had thus far proven to be at least as addled as Straha.

"Even if we do drop our explosive metal bombs on Tosev 3," Atvar said, not quite directly turning down Straha's crazy plan, "What next? We would still have to plan for the conquest. We must confirm our landing points and choose where to focus our objectives."

Straha silenced himself much quicker than usual, likely owing to the fact that Atvar didn't overtly disagree to using his plan. Of course Atvar still had no intentions of using said plan, but for now he was fine with Straha not interrupting him.

As such the shiplords began to plan the primary and secondary objectives for the final time. The main focus of the assault would be the Northern half of the lesser continental landmass, and North-Western half of the greater continental landmass due to their stronger industry and known military bases. Secondarily would be other areas of the primary continental landmass with larger concentrations of Tosevite population, where over a third of the Race's forces would land. Third would be landing forces in hotter areas of Tosev 3, where there were few Tosevites, which allows the conquest fleet a fairly hospitable base of operations to fall back on. A multilayered plan with details ironed out over many year-tenths... a short time for the Race, perhaps, but long enough (so Atvar hoped).

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, and the shiplords returned to their respective starships, the conquest would formally begin. Kirel was the only shiplord left on the bridge together with Atvar, watching with him as they neared Tosev 3.

"Tell me, Kirel," Atvar asked the shiplord of the bannership, the 127th Emperor Hetto. "Do you think the conquest can succeed."

"Exalted fleetlord, I am certain that the conquest will succeed," Kirel responded. "Perhaps not as smoothly as the conquest of Rabotev 2 or Halless 1... it may take years before we succeed in our conquest, but we will succeed. The Race will always succeed."

Atvar agreed. He too felt certain that the conquest would succeed... but just how much longer than he expected? Would he be able to conquer Tosev 3 before the colonisation fleet arrived?

Suddenly a screen reserved for emergencies only lit up in the room. "Exalted Fleetlord!" the adjutant's expression showed that whatever he had to report, it truly was an emergency.

"What is it?" Atvar asked. Once again, however, Atvar could not have at all prepared himself for what he was about to hear next.

"The computers are showing that missiles are coming directly for the conquest fleet! They are similar to the ones that had destroyed the 67th Emperor Sohrheb and the 56th Emperor Jossano! But this time..." the adjutant paused, not quite believing his own words. "There are over one thousand Tosevite missiles, and more are showing up each moment!"

Atvar didn't know if he hissed in displeasure or not. He didn't quite know anything in fact. He was dazed by the information. A thousand missiles, each with multiple Tosevite explosive metal bombs! That meant that the Tosevites were throwing as many explosive metal bombs at the conquest fleet as Straha had recommended to throw at the Tosevites!

Everything is egg-addled! Atvar thought to himself. This is a dream! A bad, bad dream! I'm still in cold sleep, and this is a bad dream because the cold sleep coffin isn't working properly!

He was woken from his shock when a second screen lit up, this time showing Straha. "Exalted Fleetlord! We must retaliate immediately!" Straha screeched with an emphatic cough.

Atvar stared at the screen for a moment, and for a brief moment he started to feel that maybe Straha wasn't as addled as Atvar first thought. That in and of itself was egg-addled. Atvar then looked to Kirel, who in turn looked back at Atvar with equal shock. Neither of them knew what to do, now that thousands of explosive metal bombs were hurtling towards them. Males of the Race responded poorly to the unexpected, and they could not have expected this.

"All ships, fire anti-missile missiles to destroy the Tosevite missiles!" Atvar responded. "Do not let a single Tosevite explosive metal bomb hit our ships!" Turning to the emergency screen he asked his adjutant, "Tell me, where are the Tosevite missiles coming from?"

"They're coming from the Northern half of the lesser continental landmass, exalted fleetlord!"

Of course... Atvar laughed. In the end it's the lesser continental landmass that's the root of all the problems.

"Straha?" Atvar said, turning to the screen that showed the shiplord that he disliked the most. "Your plan to use half our explosive metal bombs... do you have specific targets?"

Straha, quick to catch on to Atvar's meaning, also had his mouth drop open in a horrific laugh. "Of course, exalted fleetlord," he said. "I'll send them to you at once."

"Not me," Atvar said, making the negative hand gesture. "Give them directly to the other shiplords. Have them fire their explosive metal bombs now."

Once again Straha's mouth dropped in a laugh. "It shall be done, exalted fleetlord."

And with that, the screen flickered and went blank, leaving Atvar to reflect on the situation he had found himself in. As he did so he could already see distant flash of lights, some from anti-missile-missiles destroying Tosevite missiles, others from Tosevite missiles smashing into ships of the conquest fleet. Atvar didn't even want to think about how many casualties the conquest fleet was taking at the moment.

The invasion has just begun... and we're already using explosive metal bombs in the thousands... he thought. Will there really be a planet left to conquer when we're finished?

Within less than half a day-tenth even more blinding lights were seen as explosive metal bombs burst across the Northern half lesser continental landmass. The long, painful conquest had started.


A/N: This chapter took longer than expected. I've had several things to worry about in between. I'll likely be pushing out another chapter before slowing down even further though.

Initially this chapter was going to also have a scene with Killercraft pilot Teerts but I've decided to push it to the next chapter, which is going to be a more or less purely combat orientated chapter, meanwhile this chapter will remain a purely strategic (as in 'lobbing nukes') chapter. I also contemplated having the perspective of someone on the ground as the nuclear weapons dropped, but I didn't quite know who or how to fit it in.

This chapter is also one of the biggest things I'm worried about with this story as a whole: It starts off effectively dropping a thousand nuclear weapons on the USA, and a few hundred in Western Europe. I did this because frankly it was the only thing I could think of that could actually balance out the war: by the 1990s the United States alone could easily wipe the floor with the Race, and Europe wasn't far behind. By dropping enough nuclear weapons on the US to cripple their industry/military bases, and also focus a large proportion of the conquest fleet's forces on the US is the only way I could think of to make the Race something of a credible threat. The other nations of the world I could more easily justify if their performance against the Race is poor: after the collapse of Marxism-Leninism around the world, Russia (and co) and China had militaries that had less motivation than a depressed drunk, and there were logistics issues throughout the former Warsaw Pact.

At the same time I don't want the USA wiped from the map. Even if only in fiction, I'm not okay with wiping an entire country's population away, so I'm going to say that the Race's explosive metal bombs were only targeted at strategic military locations, and that there was minimal collateral damage owing to the Race's careful planning and precision technology (perhaps I should try integrate that in story?). Even then, not all the Race's missiles would necessarily hit their targets, since the USA would have a missile shield (perks of coming fresh out of the Cold War).

I still feel a few of the scenes are less exciting than I'd hoped they'd be: The NASA scene lacks tension, since the readers (you guys) know that the Race is hostile. The Strategic Missile Command scene was better, but not by much. The scene with Dmitri focuses too much on the former-Soviet Union, which emphasises the stereotype of "Russia = USSR", but I'm just going to shrug that aside as Dmitri being former KGB (later Russian characters will be less... Soviet). The Race's reactions to America shooting nuclear missiles in space, though, was a lot more fun to write (though the scene with Breltan was *ahem* 'inspired' by the scene in the novel, reacting to Dora's shells). The sheer shock of realising that America is throwing a thousand Minutemen missiles, each with three MIRV warheads is something that would shake Atvar in a way that nothing in the original novel could've, in my opinion, and I'm not sure if I've portrayed that in full.

So that's that. Let me know if you disagree with me nuking away half the US armed forces, or any other part of the story thus far, I'm happy to discuss at this point. Otherwise I'll continue assuming that all is well. In the next chapter: Actual combat. Staring Teerts, Ussmak, and some human characters that I have yet to decide from.