Fate of Terra

Chapter 12.2 - Adaptation

Kat was having none of that and grabbed Eliza by her collar and yanked her off balance with a strength and speed that surprised the Co-Pilot. Pulling her along, Kat reached the seats where Michael was waiting and watching the festivities with an amused grin. Sidestepping and twisting her arm down, Kat managed to flip the weaker girl onto her back atop a row of seats.

The Pilot leaned back and sighed, muttering something about her partner always getting to have all the fun and flicked a switch that shut the hatch with a 'whoosh.' 

* * * * *

Spot checking their uniform, and with Kat helping to straighten an errant strand of Micheal's hair, they strode down the ramp that had just lowered out the back looking rejuvenated and only then did Eliza realize they had arrived at their new destination. The escorting guards followed the couple out, casting impressed glances towards the front of the vessel, though she was still hidden by the backs of the seats.

Eliza was completely spent. She couldn't move a muscle, even her tongue was exhausted. The couple had teamed up on her to sap every last ounce of her strength. It felt... exhilarating. She'd been completely helpless against their whims and they'd somehow managed to give her the best sexual experience she'd ever imagined, let alone felt. She just hoped they hadn't turned her off 'normal' sex.

She tried to muster up anger for them forcing themselves on her, but she just let out a strained whimper as she recalled how it had felt. The only thing Eliza was really ticked off about was that those two had the gall to look refreshed and sated after her ordeal. She felt like she'd been bounced back and forth between heaven and hell for the last hour or so... the least they could have done was look a little tired.

The hatch to the Cockpit opened and Zoe, the pilot, walked out and saw her naked best friend bathed in sweat, covered in hickeys and bite marks, looking like she had just ran a marathon. 

"Damnit," She swore, turning Eliza's blurry eyes in her general direction. "You lucky cunt! Gahh, you have all the fun..."

Groaning, Eliza managed a smile and offered to her partner, croaking, "I don't think this was in the job description."

"Ahh," Zoe muttered disgustedly, throwing her hand up, "You loved it. I can see by that silly little smile on your face that they rung your bell."

Eliza let out a weary chuckle and winced. "Yeah," She agreed with a dreamy look on her face. "And then they rung it again... And again... And again..." She laughed at the petulant look on Zoe's face as she stalked back into the Cockpit.

Sometime later, she came back out while Eliza was picking up her flight suit. "Hey, check this out! A note just popped up on our identification code. We've been assigned as Michael's personal shuttle and crew. We still get to go out on other missions, but if he needs a shuttle for whatever reason, we get priority." She was smiling broadly.

Zoe reached out and spanked Eliza hard on her naked tush as she had frozen at the news, one foot inside the leg of her flight suit. "Way to take one for the team, babe. That ass just got us the cushiest job in the fleet. You should get on your back more often." With that, she turned and did a little jig on the way back towards her station to turn on the newsfeed as Michael would be speaking soon.

Eliza collapsed to her knees. The thought of going through that again filled her with equal parts anticipation and dread. She shivered before she finished dressing and went to join Zoe. All over the solar system, those with the capabilities to do so were tuning in to see what the mysterious savior of Earth was going to say on the eve of battle.

* * * * *

The Aegis system hummed to life and people looked to the sky, trying to determine if some change had occurred. The Primary Shield was a passive measure, designed to be a continuous protection against projectiles and unwanted insurgents. Thus, it was completely transparent. The powers at be would be able to open up pockets along the barrier at specific intervals in order to regulate trade and traffic.

Powered by a mix of geothermal energy and the magnetic forces that resided in the Earth, the Aegis Primary barrier linked the multitude of dark spires dotted about the planet. Being the final line of defence, in order to penetrate this Shield an attacker would need enough energy to actually affect the Earth's core. The long-term damage for such an occurrence would be catastrophic, but they figured they'd probably already be dead by then if such a breach were to occur.

The hum got louder as the Secondary Shield was brought online and a not-quite translucent hue of blue energy was seen surrounding the planet. This shield was designed to be the main defence. Powered by nuclear reactors, the design behind this Shield was that it could use energy particles fired at it to actually recharge itself. It even maintained a steady growth from the Sun's rays.

Isaac's race had been critical in getting it working after intially modifying the smaller version for the Intrepid. The Council had promised to help build a similar one around their planet should the opportunity to liberate them arise. Excess energy could be vented back towards the attackers, but Pan was working on a method to bleed off the excess energy to use down on Earth or to store in case they needed it.

The Council's flag stood high in the late afternoon sun, the ruins of the White House a constant reminder to all of what had brought them together. The Councilmembers from China and Russia acted as the host and introduced each speaker that stepped forward to address the packed Tiananmen Square, and all those glued to their television screens and holographic displays. The Council building in New York still had too many UN symbols of peace dotted around its premises to be used for this occasion.

Maybe after the war they'd look to throwing down their arms and hugging their enemies so they could all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. Now, they needed a symbol of strength. They needed reassurance and hope. They needed to see what they were capable of in the past to have the determination to carry out what had to be done in order for them to have a future.

Tiananmen Gate had first been built in a time of conflict. It had been damaged by war and used in political and military demonstrations ever since. It had a bloody history that most would call horrific, but that just seemed all the more appropriate on this day. Many had marked the occasion by planting their own agenda upon the monuments. A particularly nervous topic for the Chinese Councilman was markers, posters and protestors commemorating the massacre of 1989. 

Micheal worked ahrd to keep the sneer from his features, keeping his own thoughts and feelings on the matter private to all but those connected to his mind. Pan and Kat wisely kept quiet while Rin had to curtail Stacey's confusion and Dejah's concern. 

Councilman Whitmore stepped forward and gave a positive speech that raised some people's hopes. He sounded 'confident' that they would win and that 'all the hard work' they put into this wouldn't be for naught. He even made a joke about not hiding in a bunker this time around.

Admiral Johnson, in charge of the Council's attack prong, Admiral Sinha, in charge of the TDF that would be staying back to cover Earth, and General Zhukov, in charge of the ground troops and floating gun platforms, all gave speeches where they said they were 'optimistic' about their chances, they had prepared 'as well as they were able,' and they were certain the soldiers that fought would make a 'good' account of themselves.

As the last of them left the stage, there was complete, and utter, silence. Those closest to Micheal could feel the distortion emanating from his being, his expression empty, his eyes stormy. 'Not one of the speakers had mentioned the enemy's numbers. Not one had said how their ships stood up in comparison. They hadn't gone into their plans or backup plans. They hadn't said a damn thing that amounted to anything beyond wishful thinking!' The massive throng looked decidedly nervous and there were glances thrown around filled with doubt and hopelessness.

Michael marched up to the stage in a cold fury. He stopped at the pillars, glaring down at the crowd of onlookers and thousands of cameras zoomed in on his half mantle emblazoned on his uniform. The silver eagle soaring in flight gleamed in the sunlight, and viewers everywhere shivered at the sight of the giant bird of prey clutching the globe like it was a field mouse.

Inwardly, his voice thundered. 'How 'dare' these people forget?! How 'dare' they choose to falter when there were good men out there slaving away in the steel mills to make sure their sons and daughters had enough ammunition to take out those who would come to eradicate them.' Kat had been right. They needed him to show them what they were fighting for.

He kept his steely gaze fixed on them for a full minute, long enough that even those watching on a public TV in a group felt uneasy staring back at him. Finally, he growled out in a disgusted voice, "Fucking. Pathetic." Councilman Whitmore groaned and put his face in his hands while others paled at the acidity in his voice. "632,719. That's the number that should be ingrained in each and every one of your minds right now. That's the number that 'they,'" His finger snapped with an autiple crack, pointing up to the sky, "Took from us when they tried to enslave 'us' and turn us into livestock!" His nostrils flared as his breathing picked up and people began sharing his rage.

"They are coming again and they have more than twenty times the number they had last time." He ignored the gasps that passed through the crowd like a shockwave and reverberated around the world. He bulled forward and cast his arm out in a cutting motion. "I say that isn't enough! I want to kill 100 of those bastards for every man, woman, and child they slaughtered here on Earth." He looked around and stepped right up to the edge of the precipice and shouted, Pandora helping to amplify his voice wherever it was heard, "I don't think they can fit sixty million on those ships! I might have to go visit them at 'their' homes to make up the difference!"

People were perking up now. Nothing had really changed, but seeing Michael standing there giving it to them straight and spitting in the face of something that had them all cowed began to straighten some backs and square some shoulders. "I watched the footage when the invaders came down to the surface. I had the best seat in the house. You know what I saw when those slimy fucks decided to take our land, our freedom, our very existence?!"

He pointed out to the crowd, "I saw 'you.' I saw billions of people cross millennia of diversity in a second. You banded together as one people to declare your right to live. You fought with machines to bring down the enemy. And when machines failed, you walked out of your homes carrying weapons. And when weapons failed, I saw you hammering away at them with your fists. I saw you stare death in the face when you had nothing at your backs and still you never faltered! WHERE ARE THOSE PEOPLE NOW?!"

He paused and threw his fierce gaze at the people that were starting to regain their pride. "Well?!" he demanded. "Are you telling me this is where you draw the line? 'This' is where you choose to give in?" Some looked determined, some looked frightened, but all felt ashamed.

Michael paced back and forth across the stage and acknowledged, "Yes, there will be causalities. There always is in war. No one regrets this more than me as I'll be in the thick of it, knowing that those I hold dear chose to come with me. We won't be fighting for ourselves, but for the planet we've come to love and the people that have shaped who we are today." His sorrowful expression morphed into a sneer. "Yet, you people act as if we have a choice in the matter. There, is, no, choice! We other fight or we die..."

His foot slammed down as he returned to centre stage, glaring out at the gathered masses, not bothering to hide his distaste in what he found. "I look out at you and I see many who have already let the B'Amuf win. I see those who would rather roll over and die quickly than struggle to survive." People around the world looked at each other and saw the truth of his words.

Michael drew in a breath, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper. His listeners leaned in and strained to hear his next words, "We are living at the dawn of a new revolutionary war, one that will decide our fate as a race. We have the same decision as any warrior across history: Is it worth it? Are you willing to brave the coming storm?"

"I know our soldiers are... They've been killing the enemy long before these overgrown slugs ever set their sights on our beloved world. I just came from the steel mills in Detroit." The Council looked taken aback to hear this. "They're ready. After all the sacrifice and devotion they've put forth, 'YOU,' still think it's possible to lose to that inferior bunch of murdering scum?!"

The pure loathing he infused in his words when talking of the B'Amuf drew out the hatred in the onlookers and squashed their fear. One, then another, and soon hundreds throughout the massive crowd began shouting their defiance. 'They' would not succumb. 'They' were willing to fight.

* * * * *

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