With your questions about the alternate colonization, I've gotten most of the first chapter done already, although I don't plan to start posting it for a few weeks yet.
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March 7, 1983:
Atvar paced around the starship, trying to decide what the right course of action was. He had personally gone over all the reports his researchers had given about how to complete the conquest. An underlying tone was that if would be extremely difficult, if not outright impossible, to fully conquer Tosev 3. Indeed, they had lost considerable ground during the local winter.
"What are we to do?" Atvar groaned. "Making ginger illegal has severely depleted our reserve of males, leaving too many crucial outposts poorly defended. Close to six hundred thousand males are undergoing punishment, and my subordinates have warned that plenty more are still tasting and successfully concealing it from us."
"Exalted Fleetlord, the reports from the herb indicate that it gives a taster a feeling that they are invincible." Kirel pointed. "If they are using ginger during combat, as seems likely given the reports, they are more likely to make mistakes and get other males killed. It may even cost us the entire battle."
"How, by the emperor, did this happen?" Atvar wondered; both lowered their eyes in ritual respect for their sovereign. "Drug use is not unheard of on Home, but we've never seen it spread so quickly and with such disregard to my orders. In spite of increasing punishments, it continues to spread through the ranks. I even smelled it on some high-ranking shiplords!" He could not catch them in the act, so they had gone unpunished, but it had been extremely tempting.
"We have interviewed ginger users currently in orbit, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel informed. "When asked about why they began to taste, they state that they use it as an escape from the stress of combat, to stop thinking about the fact that they could die at any time. Withdrawal from the herb is difficult as well; a few were so addicted that the shock to their bodies killed them."
"How long do you believe it will take them to detox and be fit for duty?" Atvar asked. Perhaps the situation could be at least partially salvaged.
"The physical addiction will fade in two to three tenths of a year." Kirel explained. "The psychological addiction will be much more difficult. If we send them back to the front lines, a significant number will continue to taste. We have imprisoned every dealer we can find, and executed any Tosevite who sells it to them, but it's still a major problem."
"Especially since the danger only continues to grow," Atvar mused. "At least thirty explosive-metal bombs have been used so far, and that number will continue to grow. With danger all around them, I do not think we will be able to keep our males from tasting."
"Then perhaps... perhaps we should modify the ban, or at least order the inspectors to only arrest those males whose tasting is endangering their fellow males." Kirel suggested.
"If we do that, they will continue to endanger the males around them, which we cannot allow." Atvar reminded. He gave some thought before speaking again. Neither choice was pleasant and would likely lead to disaster. Males would continue to taste ginger, further reducing the available manpower at the Race's disposal. If they stayed in action, they would likely get themselves and others killed.
"Additional interviews also confirm that to some, being punished for ginger is preferable to being on the front lines of the conquest." Kirel added. "Morale among our males continues to fall, Exalted Fleetlord."
"Then we may as well give all of them ginger to inspire their confidence." Atvar laughed bitterly. "If nothing else, it may keep their spirits up."
"Shall I draft the orders, Exalted Fleetlord?" Kirel wondered before realizing Atvar was being sarcastic. "The situation is difficult, but we are still making gains in India, with much of the not-empire under our control. Our control of southern China is still holding, and we still control major portions of the two strongest not-empires."
"Truth, but not satisfying truth." Atvar reminded. "And their soldiers' numbers grow by the day, while ours only shrinks. Who would have imagined an opponent so advanced or so determined?" He wondered how their success was so easy on Rabotev 2 and Halless 1. Both those conquests took only a quarter of a year, with casualties almost nonexistent, just as they expected Tosev 3 to be.
"No one, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel remarked. "Our scientists will spend centuries attempting to account for what makes the Tosevites so different than other species."
"Assuming of course they have the opportunity," Atvar sighed. "What do you think of their recommendations, Kirel?" He hoped his second in command would find some optimism, some hope where he had not. The Tosevites had begun to broadcast peace measures, indicating that they thought the war had already been won.
"Not all of them are in agreement, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel responded. "Some state that the conquest can still be done. However, even they warn of the horrifying price that our males will pay in the process, and there is the question of pacifying the planet, as it is unlikely the Big Uglies will simply stop fighting. Our experience in territory we have occupied suggests as much, at any rate."
"That's what I was afraid of." Atvar admitted. "So what are our options? Do we continue the struggle?"
"Do you mean to abandon the effort, Exalted Fleetlord?" Kirel inquired.
"I am beginning to think conquering Tosev 3 will be impossible without massive losses." Atvar chose his words carefully. If he abandoned the conquest, it was likely that the shiplords would not be willing to go along. There was a large segment griping about his handling of the war. "The main powers on the planet have almost completely transitioned to a wartime economy, something that has been my nightmare ever since we learned the truth of events on the ground. Tell me honestly, Kirel: do you think we can succeed?"
Kirel stayed silent for close to a minute before using the negative hand gesture. "I have gone over the conquest many times, and have reluctantly come to this conclusion. We would need twice as many males, perhaps three times as many to conquer and hold Tosev 3. The best scenario is to negotiate with the Tosevites and hold a certain amount of land for our colonists to settle on."
"That does raise some possibilities." Atvar agreed. "They consider the hottest areas of the planet to be too unpleasant, while we would find them quite comfortable. Even such a small portion would be enough for the colonization fleet. The question is whether or not they would honor such a deal." The Tosevites were tricky and deceitful, easily capable of out maneuvering the Race in diplomatic matters. They would also be growing technologically as time went on.
"Should we assemble the shiplords and break the news to them?"
That was the part Atvar was truly dreading. Getting them to listen to him would be no small feat. He hoped that enough of them had wisdom to see what he did. "Not just yet. First, we need to send the message, along with a message, and a warning to home. Sooner or later, the Tosevites will learn to travel between the stars, mostly likely within a few hundred years; we must be ready for it."
"Of course; that would be most wise, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel agreed. "Getting them to listen will be the most difficult part."
"Once we arrive, I will make sure that they do, no matter what it takes." Atvar promised. It was far too urgent for him to ignore. "The second is a suggestion to send a series of probes before each future conquest, perhaps one every hundred years. We have encountered the Tosevites, and they may not be the only species who advance quickly." They had found no other species within 60 light-years of home, but probes were being sent farther out to investigate the possibility. 300 stars had specific probes sent to them, rather than a generalized one.
"The possibility is frightening, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel admitted. "Let us hope that Home listens."
"Assemble the shiplords; no point in delaying this any longer." Atvar sighed. He was dreading giving this news, but that was nothing new on Tosev 3. He would go down in history as the first conqueror who failed in his duties, not the way he would have wanted to be remembered by future generations.
However, in spite of that, he still had a duty. Atvar believed that prolonging the war would only be a waste of lives, time, and equipment, and he had an obligation to look after them as best he could. True, he could continue in an effort to keep his name from being besmirched by historians, but he thought about the Race as a whole first.
Once all the shiplords had been assembled, Atvar cleared his throat and prepared himself as best he could. All of them knew that whatever news he was about to give was likely to be negative. "Assembled shiplords, one and a half years ago, we began the conquest of Tosev 3. The Tosevites' technology was far beyond what we had expected to face, and they have a much greater population in addition to their weaponry.
He took a deep sigh and forced himself to continue. "After careful consideration and recommendations from our researchers, I have reluctantly decided that this attempt at conquest is not worth the massive losses that are being inflicted on us. Our losses are only growing with time, while the Tosevite forces continue to gain strength. Therefore... with great reluctance, I am abandoning the effort to conquer Tosev 3."
For a considerable period of time, there was nothing but silence. The shiplords looked at each other and at Atvar as they took in his words. The longer it went on, the more worried Atvar became. Would they listen or not? None of them knew quite what to say in response.
"Have you lost your mind?" Straha declared. Atvar hissed; it figured his rival would be the first to speak up." We are winning this war! We are still winning! All we require for victory is more aggressive measures... Exalted Fleetlord."
"We have lost countless males in the effort, and we are struggling to pacify even what we occupy, let alone advancing all across the planet." Atvar reminded. "Even fighting the Northern Hemisphere alone, we are overextended. Reinforcements will not be forthcoming, and we cannot take the planet with our current strength."
"Truth, I have seen that for myself." One of the shiplords agreed. Atvar was grateful that at least someone was supporting him in an unprecedented move.
"No, this war is not lost!" Straha insisted, raising his voice. "We cannot give up just because we have encountered difficulty! We are the Race! We do not falter, we do not surrender, and we will crush the Big Uglies. All that's necessary is changing our current tactics."
"You mean battering them with explosive-metal bombs on a massive scale." Kirel responded with derision. "Even if it worked, it would leave the planet unsuitable for the colonization fleet, and have you forgotten the Tosevites possess explosive-metal bombs of their own?"
"We cannot show weakness in face of the enemy!" A shiplord argued. "If we give up here, they will think they are superior to ours! Home itself could be in danger if we give up now!"
It was a point Atvar could not deny, and indeed, it was one of his chief concerns. It wouldn't be long before the Tosevites, at least in terms of military technology, would be more advanced than the Race. "We cannot conquer their planet, and they are proving willing to open negotiations." Atvar pointed out. "Perhaps it is possible that we can live in peace, even if it is not the one any of us would have imagined."
"Do you really think peace is possible?" Mepps asked, someone who had not aligned with either Straha or Atvar. "Can you be sure they will not deceive us and kill us all? Based on their previous behavior, it's likely they are pretending to be in a stronger position than they actually are."
"Do you think conquest is possible?" Atvar returned. "Our losses have been massive. Tell me honestly: do you think it can be done?"
"We have explosive-metal bombs, hundreds of them." Another shiplord reminded. "We have restrained ourselves thus far, but how can they replace the losses we can inflict on them?"
"You would leave the planet unsuitable for the colonization fleet using them so casually!" Kirel exclaimed.
"Only about half this planet is usable for us, and the colder areas we have no use for encompass our strongest enemies." The shiplord insisted. "Destroy them, and use the warmer areas of Tosev 3 for our colonists."
"But what will they do to us?" Skyrim worried. "They have countless bombs of their own and while most of their land-based missiles have been destroyed, our success against their underwater boats have been minimal. How many of those have we hunted down?"
"Only three at the moment," Atvar responded. And those were mostly blind luck, catching them close to the surface by pure chance. Who knew how many others the Tosevites had? "Home has already been warned of the changing situation, and the estimated time it will take the Tosevites to travel between the stars."
"You have given up at the first blow!" Straha exclaimed. "If the Big Uglies are as dangerous as you say they are, all the more reason to conquer them. If you're unwilling to do so, simply destroy them and be done with it."
"We do not have the capability to do any such thing." Kirel reminded. It was likely that many of the explosive-metal bombs would be intercepted. Most of their major population centers had at least some sort of missile defense. "Do not forget that under such circumstances, the Big Uglies would launch everything they had at us. I will not stand for such unnecessary bloodshed."
Most males looked like they agreed with Straha, however. "The Emperor has ordered us to conquer Tosev 3." Straha declared. "Is there anyone here who would go against his word?" All of them lowered their eye turrets briefly, then went back to their discussion.
"If we left, our colonization fleet would be vulnerable." Skyrim worried, and he had a legitimate concern. "They have no soldiers, no weapons, and they would be defenseless towards any attack the Big Uglies chose to make."
"Their fleetlord is awoken a year-tenth before their fleet enters the system." One of Atvar's supporters argued. "They will be informed of the situation and expected to turn around."
"No, the conquest must go forward!" Straha insisted. "I have multiple plans for a successful completion. There are many males more suited for overall command of our ground forces than the ones who currently hold those positions, ones who can fight as the Big Uglies do. Combine that with a more liberal use of explosive-metal bombs, and Tosev 3 will be ours! We cannot allow your incompetence to cost us such a vital mission!"
Atvar hissed in fury, only just restraining himself from tearing his throat open. Most of the assembled shiplords were shocked that Straha would directly insult the fleetlord, but far too many looked like they agreed, even if they were unwilling to say so out loud.
"Then I am ordering you to abandon the conquest and return Home." Atvar sighed. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but most did not look like they were going to listen, making this necessary.
Most of them looked unhappy at the news, but would they still obey? Just the fact that Atvar had to wonder was a major indication that Tosev 3 had changed each and every one of them. He hated taking such a step, but he did not see any way to achieve a successful conquest and decided not to waste his males' lives trying.
"No," Straha spoke out. Everyone in the room gasped. Questioning orders was bad enough, but it was extremely rare to see a male of the Race openly defy their superiors.
"I hope I didn't just hear what I think I did." Atvar glared dangerously at his rival, giving him a single chance to take back his words.
"If you cannot accomplish a successful conquest, we should replace you with someone who can." Straha declared. "Shiplords, I declare that Fleetlord Atvar has proven himself to be consistently incompetent and unsuited for his position. He should be replaced with a male more suited to the task." By his preening, Straha suggested that he had at least one male in mind.
"You would dare try and overthrow me?" Atvar snarled, wondering if it would be worth it to attack Straha and throw him out the airlock so his radicalism and stupidity would no longer infect the conquest fleet.
"This is not a Mutiny, merely a procedure that eliminates a male if he is unsuitable for his post." Straha insisted.
"I am sorry, Exalted Fleetlord, but he is correct." Kirel hissed miserably. "Shall we vote openly or secretly?"
"Let everyone express their views; let all of us see how incompetent and foolish Atvar really is." Straha announced. Some wanted a secret ballot, others an open one. The latter carried the day, worrying Atvar. It meant that Straha was confident that he would succeed in removing him from his post.
He tried to look as impassive as possible, but Atvar doubted he was fooling anyone. Never in his worst nightmares did he expect to endure a vote that could remove him as the fleetlord. He looked at the tally with increasing alarm; far more were voting for his removal than his retention. He was grateful that Kirel at least seemed to be supporting him.
"Votes favoring his removal equal... seventy-nine percent." Kirel gasped out in shock. "Those favoring his retention total twenty-one percent. This is a three-fourths majority." He looked at Atvar, lost for words.
"You are a fool, Straha." Atvar warned. "Your lunacy and radicalism will cost us the lives of millions of males." He stomped out of the room, unable to stay inside any longer.
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After a few days, Straha was elected the new fleetlord of the Conquest Fleet. He had decided to keep Kirel as second-in-command, mostly so he could keep a close eye on him. He knew Kirel still supported Atvar and was not about to let anyone else get in the way of what had to be done to ensure the conquest.
His first action was to remove from command those who proved unable to adapt to the Big Uglies' way of war, and replaced them with lower-ranking males who had better proved themselves on the battlefield. Even most of them could not equal the Big Uglies in imitative and skill, but were far closer to doing so than their predecessors.
Next, Straha prepared a massive assault that he hoped would force the enemy into submission. Their major population centers had missile defenses, but even the superpowers did not have enough of them to protect every single city, so he chose military formations and smaller cities as his targets. In total, he chose thirty-five tactical and strategic targets, about 1/6th of the Race's remaining stockpile: sixteen in the United States, ten in the Soviet Union, three each in Britain and France, two in Germany, and one in China.
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March 6, 1983:
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Edward green wondered as he put the finishing touches on the prototypes, completed months ahead of schedule with assistance from American and Soviet technicians.
"Can't let them think they can strike us with impunity," Berko Diya, an immigrant from Algeria. "Makes me wonder if any of us are going to survive this." That, more than anything else, told Green that he was not an Englishmen. Few native Englishmen would have been so open about his fears, even though it was on everyone's minds. At this rate, would there be anything left, even if humanity did win.
Two thermonuclear bombs struck Southampton and Portsmouth. It was estimated that about 50% to 75% of their populations would die in spite of everything they could do to treat individuals who suffered from radiation poisoning. They were important bases that allowed them to transport supplies and reinforcements to mainland Europe. Their ability to do so had been badly crippled. The missile aimed towards Bournemouth had thankfully been intercepted.
The United States had been hit with nine nuclear weapons. Akron, Toledo, Chattanooga, and Amarillo had been mostly destroyed, in addition to five tactical targets. The Soviet Union had bombs dropped on Smolensk, Chelyabinsk, Saratov, and Kostanay, along with two military groups hit. Munster in Germany, Nancy in France, and Beijing. Due to being a poor nation, the strike in Beijing was likely to kill more than all the others combined.
But now they were ready to hit back with a new weapon. "I wish I could see their faces when they see this thing coming at them." Green gave a small smile. "They think they're untouchable up there."
"Just wish we had more of them." Berko stated. They had developed four nuclear anti-satellite weapons for use against the lizards' starships in orbit. Most of Britain's land based missiles had been destroyed, and the HMS Renown had been sunk with 42 nukes on board, leaving Britain with approximately 145 left.
"20 minutes and counting," Green stated. They were intending to launch the weapons at exactly the same time all around the world in order to give the lizards no time to react. They were not entirely confident that this would work, or reach high enough into orbit to hit the lizards' starships, but they would do the best they can.
The minutes counted down as the aircraft took off. One way or another, we'll find out if it works. Green thought. Always figured one day the world would end in nuclear annihilation; just never thought it would be because of aliens.
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"Exalted Fleetlord, the Tosevites are responding." Kirel warned, looking at the screen.
"Have we hunted down their boats?" Straha demanded. He had warned them to be ready to face a Big Ugly counterattack, but even now, it seemed like too many members of the Race had not adjusted to the changing circumstances.
"They're not being launched at our bases... they're... they're aimed directly at our ships." Kirel said, hardly daring to believe what he was being told.
Straha practically shoved him aside as he looked at the computer model. Over two dozen missiles, likely armed with explosive-metal bombs, were being launched directly towards their starships. Some of them were attempting to accelerate in order to evade, but most hadn't the slightest idea what to do, and if every ship broke orbit, there was always the danger of a starship collision.
"This is Fleetlord Straha: the Big Uglies have launched a series of missiles which are being aimed at our starships." He announced. "I don't care what you have to do, but intercept them and evade them!" Not that it would do much good, as he knew perfectly well. Only a handful of starships had any kind of defense, not expecting to be attacked in orbit.
Nor did they have any time to react. The missiles would hit their targets in a couple of minutes. However selfish it sounded, Straha was grateful that his ship was not in the line of fire. They were beginning to accelerate and change their orbits, but slowly, far too slowly.
Five starships were destroyed in a matter of seconds, the weapons slamming directly into the engines. Even a nuclear bomb was not enough to completely vaporize the ship, however, and many pieces of debris would fall to the surface over the next few days.
Out of the twenty-five ships targeted, twenty-one were ultimately destroyed. One missile was a dud, while the other three were successfully evaded. Although most males were on the surface, the total death toll was still close to forty thousand, many of them wounded males who had been evacuated into orbit for treatment.
Straha's eye turrets were wide open as his mind continued to process the information. The Tosevites would pay for this attack, that much he promised! "Kirel, prepare a retaliatory strike; we will teach the Big Uglies not to strike us!"
"With respect, Exalted Fleetlord, if we use explosive-metal bombs in such a fashion, the planet will not be worth colonizing." Kirel argued, a very unusual move for a male of the Race. However, he was too afraid of what would happen to keep silent.
"Explain," Straha hissed, beginning to think he should have replaced Kirel after all.
"Tosev 3 will not be worth colonizing after such destruction." Kirel informed, choosing his words carefully. "Our scientists are divided as to what the extent of the damage would be, in large part because it depends on the circumstances, but the Tosevites have a concept of 'nuclear winter'. If such an event happens, Tosev 3 will undergo a long period of darkness and cold temperatures, meaning that an already cold planet will be even worse for us."
"I would rather have a partial planet ready for our colonists than give up the fight and leave them defenseless to whatever the Big Uglies chose to do." Straha argued stubbornly, but Kirel's point was too important to be completely discounted. "They butcher each other on a horrific scale? Do you think they would treat us with any more kindness?"
"Perhaps not, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel conceded. However incompetent Straha considered Atvar, he was at least smart enough to send a warning to Home to prepare for a possible Tosevite attack.
"The fate of the Race is on the line; we will not fail." Straha promised.
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Wuppah wanted a taste of ginger. He had only just managed to resist bringing a few tastes along for the flight. Ginger was getting cheaper and easily available, so it cost him much less than it would have in the past.
I am a Male of the Race; I will focus on my mission. Wuppah told himself once again. They were patrolling much further into the ocean- a foreign concept for the Race- than they would have previously. Orders from up high declared that the Big Uglies would soon launch a nuclear attack from their submarines and destroying them before they could was considered top priority.
"They're out there; I know it." Wuppah muttered, knowing that failure to spot them could mean all their lives. Their base was a prime target, although not so big as to be protected by a skelkwank device. The Race only possessed twenty-five, not nearly enough to protect every base, so they were placed at only the vitally important ones.
"I'm surprised they haven't struck us yet; do we know how many of these devices they possess?" Dresn wondered. He was now a very wealthy male, although few apart from Wuppah knew it. Despite being a ginger dealer, he was still a competent flightmale.
"We do not, but we destroy them the instant we find them." Chook declared. Their missiles could reach down into the ocean, albeit with considerable difficulty. "Fortunately, no Big Ugly craft are in the vicinity." They had found an enemy airbase three days ago and destroyed them on the ground with minimal losses, an event that happened far more rarely than Wuppah would have liked.
Wuppah hoped they would not encounter any, but it didn't seem especially likely. Big Ugly killercraft had far shorter ranges than their Race equivalent, and even they had to be refueled for such an extended mission. They were patrolling close to 1200 Tlocks away from the shore- another word the Race borrowed from the Tosevites- and would need to be refueled soon. Fortunately, killercraft designed for that purpose were heading towards them now.
A couple minutes before they would have been refueled, a possible sighting was reported. Wuppah and the rest of his squadron launched four missiles each in a desperate attempt to destroy the submarine before it could attack. They succeeded, but not before a pair of missiles were launched towards their positions.
"By the emperor!" Ristin exclaimed. They did everything they could do to stop him, but it wasn't enough. Now all they could do is pray that their defenses would be able to shoot them down. The missiles were out of visible range within a matter of seconds. Wuppah thought about launching his missiles in an attempt to destroy them, but they couldn't match the acceleration of the Tosevite attack.
"Do we at least know where they're going?" Dresn wondered.
"Our base, I would presume." Chook admitted. All of them hated this feeling of helplessness. There was nothing they could do to defend it, and could only watch and pray that the pair of missiles would be intercepted.
As their supply craft refueled their killercraft, all of them wondered whether or not their comrades would survive. Once the refueling was complete, they could continue to patrol for another day-tenth. It might not even be the only attack, and Wuppah was determined that the Big Uglies would not fool the Race again.
Everyone did their best to continue to search, but the fate of their comrades was never far from their minds. They would know in a matter of minutes, one way or the other, if they survived. "The Big Uglies should be exterminated!" Dresn snarled. "Kill them all and colonize Tosev 3 on their charred corpses. This crime cannot go unavenged!"
Most did not agree with him. Even if few in the Conquest Fleet felt like true males any more, such a desire for bloodshed horrified most of them. Wuppah occasionally had the same thoughts, but ruthlessly suppressed it. Such an attitude would get the Race nowhere. The most important thing now was to keep it from happening again.
I need a taste of ginger, Wuppah thought. It was the only thing that made this miserable world worth living on. It could drive him to insanity, but sometimes, it was the only thing keeping him sane.
"Our base is safe!" Chook exclaimed to the others. "I just received a report that mentioned we intercepted the missile aimed for us!"
"Yes!" Wuppah laughed, if only to keep from collapsing into an emotional heap from his close brush with death. Had it impacted, countless males and equipment would have been killed.
Once their patrol was over, however, the news became less optimistic. The base adjacent to them was completely obliterated with only a handful of survivors. The missiles broke into seven different warheads, five of them detonating 1.2 Tlocks above the surface. Even the males who survived the initial blast were unlikely to be able to endure the radiation poisoning that would surely result.
That could have been us... that might have been us. Wuppah realized. It was pure chance that their base was not destroyed instead of or as well as the one adjacent to them. Along with relief, there was also a slight amount of guilt that he survived when so many others did not. He knew none of the males who died, but they were his comrades regardless.
Nor was that the only strike. On the news feed, Wuppah was listening to more missiles being launched at bases and armies in the United States, the Soviet Union, North Africa, and the Middle East. In total, forty-one warheads hit Race armies and positions. He had no idea what the losses were, but they were certain to be massive.
He took a taste of ginger so he wouldn't have to think about it, and he was far from the only male to do so. Even after a taste, however, the fear did not completely go away. He knew safety was an illusion, but decided to enjoy the feeling regardless.
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March 10, 1983:
"You'd think we'd be happier after the lizards took so much damage." Melanie sighed as she looked around Nashville. The lizards were pushing hard against it, succeeding in taking most of the surrounding towns, but the city itself was still free of invaders, even if air raids were a daily occurrence.
"Probably wondering if any of us are going to survive this," Thomas remarked. Sixty nuclear weapons detonating on earth in a single day, not including the twenty-one lizard starships that were destroyed, made a lot of people begin to believe that an all-out nuclear exchange was only a matter of time.
However badly the lizards had been hurt, the number of warheads was rather sobering, especially since without the defenses of both sides, it would have been over twice that number. It was quite possible that Nashville would be next, it being one of the main bastions to keep the lizards from taking over the South. They had plenty of air defenses, but it wouldn't stop everything.
"The Sprint program was activated months ago; guess the treaty doesn't mean a whole lot during an alien invasion." Thomas remarked. Both of them were looking up at the sky, wondering if they would be next to die in a nuclear firestorm. Her brother had explained that modern buildings were much stronger than the ones at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, improving their chances of survival, but it didn't reassure her much.
Both of them went back underground. The subway and sewer systems were being used as makeshift shelters for people who did not have a fallout shelter of their own, which most of them did not. Those who were lucky enough mostly kept their mouths shut, for fear of their shelter and supplies being raided by desperate people looking for safety.
"This place stinks," Mark groaned as he greeted them. "I don't know how anyone can stand this."
"You get used to it eventually." Melanie replied. Neither she, her brother, or Katherine had a proper bath or shower in weeks. All they'd gotten was the occasional rainstorms, which weren't anywhere near enough. She'd gotten used to it, as she was slowly becoming a professional soldier. She only wished Thomas would shut up about all the possibilities of disease.
"Get used to what?" Katherine asked.
"Not really important; anything new?" Melanie inquired. Even with all the flashlights, it wasn't easy to see, especially since they had power for only a few hours a day. It was amazing just how many people were living in either the subway, sewer system, or flood drains, even those who still had homes.
"I've been asking around, but not yet." Katherine stated. "I've seen a few cute guys here. If there wasn't a war on, I'd see if they'd ask me out."
"Don't we have other priorities?" Thomas asked. "Seeing people look at Melanie like that gets kind of tiresome." Melanie was accustomed to it and the ones who merely looked or tried to flirt, she ignored and didn't get bothered by them. However the ones who asked her for sex, often saying: "This could be our last night on Earth; let's do it" or something to that effect enraged her.
"It's a shame, but what else do we have to talk about?" Mark chuckled. It was easier than thinking about the possibility of a nuclear bomb being dropped on their heads, but try as they might, it was never far out of their mind. "So you may want to be careful about investigating any noises."
"I'll keep that in mind." Katherine replied, eating one of her ration bars. None of them wanted to sit down inside the flood drain, even though it was only barely tall enough for them, so they continued to walk around and talk about anything they thought would distract them from nuclear war.
Melanie burst out laughing at one of the stories Katherine had told her about what the two of them had gotten up to at school. "I swear to god, the Principal's face turned purple!" Katherine exclaimed. "I was sure the two of us would end up expelled!"
"Don't forget me covering for you." Thomas pointed out. He had few stories of his own, but liked to talk about all his various interests. "I was thinking once all this was over is to see if I can move to a more wide open space. If it wasn't for the circumstances, being in the woods would have been fun. Actually, it was something of an adventure."
"You've completely lost your mind." Katherine rolled her eyes. Thomas had never liked crowds and never got used to them, even living in a major city. It didn't surprise any of them, but what even Melanie couldn't comprehend was how any part of that could be fun. She was glad it was over and if possible, she never intended to set foot in the woods again.
Her reply was drowned out for artillery hitting the city. All four of them immediately ducked down and covered their heads, Mark landing on top of Melanie, with both of them cursing in pain. For a brief moment, all four of them thought that it was a nuclear strike and while being underground was much better than above, it was no sure protection.
The attack lasted less than a minute, but the lizards were pushing closer and closer to the city. "Shit, I thought we'd just been nuked!" Mark laughed to try and relieve some of the tension and fear. All of them chuckled lightly, but that was it.
Once they went back outside, there did not seem to be much new damage. Melanie had heard rumors that the lizards were running low on ammunition, and this seemed to be confirming it. Some people were killed, more injured, but that was about it. In other words, just another day.
"Amazing what you can get accustomed to," Thomas commented. "Least it doesn't look like Dresden or Berlin did in 1945."
"Do you really have to bring that crap up?" Mark groaned. "Come on, let's see what we can do for the wounded."
Melanie and Mark grabbed a stretcher and the four of them helped carry a wounded civilian out of there. He was over seventy years old, meaning that he was unlikely to get as much medical care as he would if he was younger. It might have been heartless, but the local authorities were reserving their medicine for when it would do the most good.
He was conscious and in remarkably good humor. "If the trenches didn't kill me, the lizards certainly can't." He laughed. "We were built tough back in my day." He was covered in bruises and had a broken foot, but was still together enough to talk and even joke. Melanie knew she certainly would never be able to do that under the same circumstances.
"Whenever somebody says 'in my day', it's a definite sign that they're an old geezer." Thomas quipped. Impolite as it was, Melanie was still glad that her brother was able to joke, even if Katherine and Mark were expressing disapproval. The man laughed again.
"Thanks; we'll take it from here." The nearest nurse they could find ordered. She looked no older than Melanie, perhaps even a year or two younger.
Later that night, more artillery shells echoed through the city, waking Melanie and Mark up even if they weren't close. Before the nuclear exchange, it rattled her much less, but now she never knew whether there was a nuke with her name on it. She'd always feared a nuclear war from the time she was a small child, but it had gotten worse than ever.
Even if we win, will there be anything left? was Melanie's last thought before falling asleep again.
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