John Ringo - The Legacy of the Aldenata 3 - When the Devil D

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When the Devil Dances
John Ringo
Posleen Invasion Timeline
October 9, 2004
First Landing Five Globes: Landings: Fredericksburg, Central Africa, S.E. Asia,
Uzbekistan.
July 28, 2005
First Wave 62 Globes: Primary Landings: East Coast North America, Australia,
India.
August 15, 2005
Last Transmission: Australian Defense Command, Alice Springs.
April 12, 2006
Second Wave 45 Globes: Primary Landings: China, South America, West Coast
N.A., Middle East, S.E. Asia.
May 14, 2006
Last Transmission: Chinese Red Army, Xianging.
May 28, 2006
Last Transmission: Turkic Alliance, Jalalabad.
June 18, 2006
Last Transmission: Combined Indochina Command, Angkor Wat.
December 19, 2006
Last Transmission: Allies of the Book, Jerusalem.
January 23, 2007
Battle of L3: Loss of Supermonitor Lexington, Task Fleet 4.2.
February 17, 2007
Battle of Titan Base.
March 27, 2007
Third Wave 73 Globes: Landings: Europe, North Africa, India II, South America
II.
April 30, 2007
Last Transmission: Islamic Defense Forces, Khartoum.
July 5, 2007
Last Transmission: Indian Defense Force, Gujarrat.
August 25, 2007
Last Transmission: Forces of Bolivar, Paraguay.
September 24, 2007
First Battle of Irmansul: Loss of Supermonitor Enterprise, Yamato, Halsey,
Lexington II, Kuznetsov, Victory, Bismarck. Task Fleets 77.1, 4.4, 11.
December 17, 2007
Second Battle of Earth: Loss of Supermonitor Moscow, Honshu, Mao. Task Fleet
7.1, 4.1, 14.
December 18, 2007
Fourth Wave 65 Globes: Primary Landings: China II, East Coast North America
II, Europe II, India III.
March 14, 2008
Last Transmission: European Union Forces, Innsbruck.
August 28, 2008
Fifth Wave 64 Globes: Primary Landings: West Coast North America II, East
Coast North America III, Russia, Central Asia, South Africa, South America III.
September 17, 2008
Last Transmission: Grand African Alliance, Pietermaritzburg.
October 12, 2008
Last Transmission: Red Army, Nizhny Novgorod.
October 21, 2008
Official Determination: No coherent field forces outside of North America.
November 14, 2008
Second Battle of Irmansul: Loss of Supermonitor Lexington III, Yamato II, Task
Fleet 14.
December 1, 2008
Senate Select Committee classified report: Earth Human Population Estimate 1.4
billion Posleen Population Estimate: In excess of 12 billion.
May 26, 2009
Last operational Posleen force destroyed on Irmansul.
CHAPTER 1
The Commando's Prayer
Give me, my God, what you still have;
give me what no one asks for.
I do not ask for wealth, nor success,
nor even health.
People ask you so often, God, for all that,
that you cannot have any left.
Give me, my God, what you still have.
Give me what people refuse to accept from you.
I want insecurity and disquietude;
I want turmoil and brawl.
And if you should give them to me,
my God, once and for all,
let me be sure to have them always,
for I will not always
have the courage to ask for them.
—Corporal Zirnheld
Special Air Service
1942
Clayton, GA, United States, Sol III
2325 EDT Friday September 11, 2009 ad
The night sky over the ruins of Clayton, Georgia, was rent by fire as a brigade's
worth of artillery filled the air with shrapnel. The purple-orange light of the variable time
rounds revealed the skeleton of a shelled-out Burger King and the scurrying centauroid
shapes of the Posleen invaders.
The crocodile-headed aliens scattered under the hammer of the guns and Sergeant
Major Mosovich grinned at the metronomic firing of the team sniper. There had been
three God Kings leading the Posleen battalion, what the invaders called an "oolt'ondar," a
unit over size varying from a human battalion to a division. Two of the three leader castes
had been tossed from their saucer-shaped antigrav craft with two precisely targeted
rounds before the last had increased the speed of his saucer-shaped craft and flown
quickly out of sight. Once he was gone the sniper began working on the Posleen
"normals."
The rest of Long Range Reconnaissance Team Five held its fire. Unlike the sniper,
with his match-grade .50 caliber rifle, the tracers from the rest of the team would be sure
to give them away. And then it would be wheat against the scythe; even without their
leaders, the battalion of semi-intelligent normals would be able to wipe a LRRP team off
the map.
So they directed and corrected the artillery barrage until all of the remaining aliens
had scattered out of sight.
"Good shoot," Mueller said, quietly, glancing at the dozens of horse-sized bodies
scattered on the roads. The big, blond master sergeant had been fighting or training to
fight the Posleen since before most of the world knew they existed. Like Mosovich he
had seen most of the bad, and what little good, there had been of the invasion.
When they first got orders to fire up any targets of opportunity while on patrols it
did not seem to be a good idea. He'd been chased by the Posleen before and it was no fun.
The aliens were faster and had more endurance than humans; getting them off your trail
required incredible stealth or sufficient firepower.
However, the invaders never seemed to sustain any pursuit beyond certain zones,
and the LRRPs had sufficient firepower to wipe out most of their pursuers. So now they
took every chance they could to "fire-up" the invaders. And, truth be told, they took a
certain perverse satisfaction from a good artillery shoot.
"Took 'em long enough," Sergeant Nichols groused. The E-5 was a recent transfer
from the Ten Thousand. Like all the Spartans the sergeant was as hard as the barrel of his
sniper rifle. But he had a lot to learn about being beyond the Wall.
"Arty's usually late," said Mueller, getting to his feet. Like the sniper, the team
second, who always took point, was draped in a ghillie cloak. The dangling strips of
cloth, designed to break up the human outline and make a soldier nearly invisible in the
brush, were occasionally a pain. But it was manifestly useful in hiding the oversized
master sergeant.
The lines along the Eastern seaboard had been stable for nearly two years. Each side
had strengths and weaknesses and the combination had settled into stalemate.
The Posleen had extremely advanced weaponry, hundreds of generations better than
the humans. Their light-weight hypervelocity missiles could open up a main battle tank or
a bunker like a tin can and every tenth "normal" carried one. The plasma cannons and
heavy railguns mounted on the God King's saucers were nearly as effective and the
sensor suite on each saucer swept the air clear of any aircraft or missile that crested the
horizon.
In addition to their technological edge they outnumbered the human defenders. The
five invasion waves that had hit Earth, and the numerous "minor" landings in between,
had ended up dropping two billion Posleen on the beleaguered planet. And it only took
two years for a Posleen to reach maturity. How many there were on Earth at this point
was impossible to estimate.
Of course not all of those had landed on North America. Indeed, compared to the
rest of the world the U.S. was relatively unscathed. Africa, with the exception of some
guerrilla activity in central jungles and South African ranges, had been virtually wiped
from the map as a "human" continent. Asia had suffered nearly as badly. The horselike
Posleen were at a distinct disadvantage in mountainous and jungle terrain, so portions of
Southeast Asia, especially the Himalayas, Burma and portions of Indochina, were still in
active resistance. But China and India were practically Posleen provinces. It had taken
the horses less than a month to cross China, repeating Mao's "Long March" and, along
the way, slaughtering a quarter of the Earth's population. Most of Australia and the
majority of South America, with the exception of the deep jungle and the Andes spine,
had fallen as well.
Europe was a massive battleground. The Posleen did poorly in extreme cold, not
from the cold so much as an inability to forage, so both the Scandinavian peninsula and
the Russian interior had been ignored. But Posleen forces had taken all of France and
Germany except portions of Bavaria and swept around in an unstoppable tide to take all
the North German plain to the edge of the Urals. There they had stopped more from
distaste for the conditions than any military resistance.
At this point there was resistance throughout the Alps and down through the Balkans
and Eastern Europe but the beleaguered survivors remained low on food, manufacturing
resources and hope. The rest of Europe, all of the lowlands and the bulk of the
historically "central" zones, were in Posleen hands.
America, through a combination of luck, terrain and strategic ruthlessness had
managed to survive.
On both coasts there were plains which, except for specific cities, had been ceded to
the Posleen. But the north-south mountain ranges on both sides of the continent, along
with the Mississippi, had permitted the country to reconsolidate and even locally
counterattack.
In the West the vast bulk of the Rockies protected the interior, preventing a link-up
between the Posleen trapped in the narrow strip of land between the mountains and the
sea. That narrow strip of land, however, had once contained a sizable percentage of the
population of the U.S. and the effect of the dislocation and civilian loss there was
tremendous. In the end most of the residents of California, Washington and Oregon made
it to safe havens in the Rockies. Most of them found themselves in the still-building
underground cities, the "Sub-Urbs" recommended by the Galactics. There they sat,
working in underground factories to produce the materials the war needed and sending
forth their hale to defend the lines.
There were many untapped sources of materials in the Rockies and all of them were
being exploited, but what was missing was food production. Prior to the first landing all
holds had been released on agricultural production and the American agricultural
juggernaut had responded magnificently. But most of the spare food had ended up being
sent to the few fortified cities on the plains. They were scheduled to hold out for five
years and food was their overriding concern. So there was, elsewhere, a severe shortage
when the first massive landing occurred. Almost all the productive farmlands in the west,
with the exception of the Klamath Basin, had been captured by the Posleen. So most of
the food for the Western Sub-Urbs had to be provided over a long, thin link across the
Northern Plains following I-94 and the Santa Fe Railroad. Sever that link and eighty-five
million people would slowly starve to death.
In the east it was much the same. The Appalachian line stretched from New York to
Georgia and linked up with the Tennessee River to create an uncrossable barrier from the
St. Lawrence to the Mississippi. The Appalachians, however, were nothing compared to
the Rockies. Not only were they lower throughout, but they had passes that were nearly
as open as flatland. Thus the Posleen found numerous places to assault all along the line.
And the fighting at all of them, Roanoke, Rochester, Chattanooga and others, had been
intense and bloody. In all the gaps regular formations, mixed with Galactic Armored
Combat Suits and the elite Ten Thousand, battled day and night against seemingly
unending waves of Posleen. But the lines held. They held at times only because the
survivors of an assault were too tired to run, but they held. They bent from time to time
but nowhere had they ever been fully sundered.
The importance of the Appalachian defenses could not be overstated. With the loss
of the coastal plains, and much of the Great Plains, the sole remaining large areas for
food production were Central Canada, the Cumberland plateau and the Ohio Valley. And
although the Canadian plains were high quality grain production areas, their total
production per acre was low and they were effectively unable to produce a range of
products. In addition, while there was increasing industry throughout British Columbia
and Quebec, the logistical problems of a broad-based economy in nearly sub-Arctic
conditions that had always plagued Canada continued even in the face of the Posleen
threat. It was impossible to shoehorn the entire surviving population of the U.S. into
Canada and if they did the survivors would be no better off than the Indians huddling in
the Gujarrat and Himalayas.
Lose the Cumberland and Ohio and that would be for all practical purposes the end
of active defense. There would be humans left on the continent, but like all the other
major continents, they would be shattered survivors digging for scraps in the ruins.
Knowing that the lower Great Plains were indefensible the forces there, mostly
armor and Galactic armored suits, had retreated, never engaging unless they could inflict
terrific casualties. This retreat had ended near the Minnesota River for much the same
reason as the Siberian retreat. However, the Posleen had succeeded in one objective,
whether they knew it was an objective or not. In the long withdrawal, the 11th MI, the
largest block of GalTech Armored Combat Suits on Earth, was destroyed.
All of these defenses were predicated on the Posleen's major weaknesses: inability
to handle artillery and inability to cross significant barriers. The God Kings were able to
engage aircraft and missiles with almost one hundred percent certainty but still were
unable to stop indirect, free-flight artillery. So as long as they were in artillery range of
humans they were vulnerable. And because of their odd mental dichotomy, it was
virtually impossible for them to overrun modern defensive structures. Posleen attacks that
carried the first layer of a prepared defense normally involved casualty rates of one
hundred Posleen for every human killed; even with their overwhelming numbers they
simply could not take more than the front rank of a prepared defense. And virtually all
the defenses along the Rockies and Appalachians were layered with large units up and
multiple supporting units. So the Posleen came on and they died in such vast numbers
that it was impossible to count. And they lost. Every time.
Now, in most areas humans crouched behind their redoubtable defenses while the
Posleen created a civilization just out of artillery range. And in between was a weed-
choked and ghost-haunted no-man's-land of shattered towns and ruined cities.
And it was this wilderness through which the LRRPs patrolled.
"Let's head out," Mosovich said quietly, slipping his binoculars into their case. The
binos were old technology, not even light gathering, but in conditions like this they
worked well enough. And he liked to have a completely nonelectronic backup; batteries,
even GalTech batteries, ran out. "I suspect those guys were headed south towards our
target."
"What, exactly, are we supposed to do against a globe, Jake?" Mueller asked. But,
nonetheless, he headed down the slope to the south.
The week before one of the gigantic "battleglobes" of the Posleen invader had been
detected in a landing pattern. The vessel had landed with more control than normal for
the Posleen. Usually the landings were more or less at random but this globe landed in
one of the few areas in the Eastern U.S. that was not covered by heavy fire; the Planetary
Defense Center that would have interfered with the landing had been destroyed before
completion.
The globes were made up of thousands of smaller vessels from multiple worlds.
They formed at predetermined deep-space rendezvous then proceeded to the target planet.
When they reached the outer strands of the atmosphere the globes broke up and the
subvessels, Lampreys and Command Dodecahedrons, would fan out in a giant circle
around the landing target.
It was one of these that had landed somewhere around the already conquered
Clarkesville, Georgia. And it was the LRRP's job to find it and find out where the forces
from it were going.
So far it looked like they were gathering forces, not leaving. Which was, to say the
least, unusual.
"First we find it," said Mosovich. "Then we figure out what to do."
Finding it would be difficult. There were parties of Posleen moving everywhere
throughout the rugged countryside. Since the centauroid Posleen found mountains
difficult, that meant they were confined to the roads. That meant in turn that the LRRP
team had to be careful to avoid roads. The best way to do that would have been to "ridge
run"—follow ridges from hilltop to hilltop. However, the general trend of the ridges in
the North Georgia hills was from east to west, rather than north to south. Thus the team
had to first climb up one ridge, averaging from two to six hundred feet, then down the
other side. In the valley they would carefully cross the inevitable stream and road, then
ascend the next ridge.
Mosovich took them wide off of Highway 441, descending from their perch on
Black Rock Mountain and down into the wilderness around Stonewall Creek. The pine
and oak woods were shrouded in a medieval darkness; the background light of
civilization had been extinguished for years. The primeval woods rustled with wildlife
and in the hills south of Tiger Creek they startled up a herd of bedding deer that must
have numbered in the hundreds.
Up the hill from Tiger Creek Mueller stopped and raised a hand. From ahead there
was a low, constant rustling. He crept forward, cranking up the gain on the light
amplification goggles.
When he saw the first of the beasts climbing laboriously out of a ten foot high
mound of dirt, he just nodded and backed up. He looked at Mosovich and gestured to the
south, indicating that they needed to go around. At Mosovich's gesture of inquiry he held
out two fingers, formed in a V and curved down, then gestured as if driving them at the
ground. The sergeant major nodded and gestured to the south as well; nobody wanted to
go through an abat meadow.
The creatures were one of the pests brought by the Posleen. Like the Posleen they
were omnivorous and capable of surviving on Terran vegetation. They were about the
size of rabbits, white and looked somewhat like a cross between a rat and a pillbug. They
moved like a rabbit, hopping along on a single rear leg that had a broad, flexible pod-
foot. Individually they were inoffensive and, unlike Posleen, fully edible to humans;
Mueller had eaten them and he had to admit that they tasted better than snake, something
like capybara. However, they nested in large colonies dug into the ground like anthills
and defended their colonies viciously, swarming out on anything that came near them and
attacking with a pair of mandibles that looked like oversized rat-teeth. They also cleared
large meadows out of the forests, felling the trees like beaver and chewing them up to
create underground fungus gardens. They also ate a variety of vegetation and had been
observed to scavenge carcasses.
They were eaten by everything at this point including wolves, feral dogs and
coyotes, but their only natural predator was what the Posleen called "grat." The grats
were much worse than abat, being a flying pest that looked remarkably similar to a wasp.
However, grats were limited since the only thing they could eat was abat. With a mature
abat nest in the area, Mueller made sure to keep a sharp eye out for grat; they were much
more territorial than the abat and the sting from one was deadly.
The rest of the trip was without incident, however, and by dawn they were bedded
down themselves on the hills overlooking Lake Rabun. Their movement had been slow
but that was okay. By tomorrow they would be snooping around the Posleen encampment
and sending back reports. Clarkesville was within range of the 155mm artillery batteries
around the Gap so whatever the Posleen were doing they could expect to receive a warm
welcome.
Sister Mary gave a thumbs up that communications were established. The commo
sergeant had been preparing to become a nun when the word came of the pending
invasion. She was released from the preliminary vows of a novice and enlisted in the
Army. The first days of the war had her repairing field radios in St. Louis but when a
Posleen globe surrounded the city, her service in a scratch company earned her a
Distinguished Service Cross. The unit of odds and sods from the support units in St.
Louis—no more than eight hundred personnel, none of them infantry—had ended up
defending the Granite City Steel Works and shattering better than a hundred times their
number. Her own exploits were too numerous to list, thus the simple "actions in and
around the Granite City Steel Works" in her citation.
The communications situation Beyond the Wall was complex. The Posleen had
become more and more adept at detecting and localizing radio transmissions. After
repeated losses, the LRRP teams began using automatic laser retransmitters for commo.
Every team went out with large numbers of the bread-loaf sized devices and emplaced
them on the ridges in their areas of operations. Since the retransmitters doubled as
sensors they also gave the commands a feel for movement in their area.
Thus the short, stocky commo tech carried a huge load of retransmitters. And had to
continually ensure that they were in communication with the rear.
Mueller rolled out his poncho liner and covered it with the ghillie blanket. Crawling
under the combination he held up two fingers indicating he wanted second watch.
Mosovich nodded, pointed to Nichols and held up one finger then four fingers to
Sister Mary. They would sleep most of the day and head down to the river near dusk. By
the next morning he intended to be looking at Clarkesville.
Nichols dragged the ghillie blanket up to cover himself and his rifle then set up on a
convenient rock. The march had been a bastard; the hills were pretty steep and the
undergrowth was thick as hell. But he had a secret he was not about to share. The secret
was that a bad day hiking up and down hills was better than a good day in the Ten
Thousand. All in all he would rather be here than Rochester.
CHAPTER 2
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
DoGeorgia over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
—Rudyard Kipling
"Recessional" (1897)
Rochester, NY, United States, Sol III
0755 EDT Saturday September 12, 2009 ad
Mike O'Neal looked down at the smoke shrouded valley where Rochester, New
York, used to be. The embattled city was now flatter than any hurricane could have made
it; the humans were adept at fighting in rubble whereas the horselike Posleen found it
nearly impossible. But that didn't mean it was a human city anymore. Just that two
different species of vermin battled over it.
The rain was misting, a thick, drizzly fog blown in from Lake Ontario. Mike cradled
his helmet in one hand and a grav pistol in the other. Behind him was a distant rumbling
like thunder and on the east side of the Genesee River a curtain of white fire erupted with
the snapping of a million firecrackers. The heights above the former Rochester University
were taking another misdirected barrage.
"These mist covered mountains, are home now for me," he sang, twiddling the pistol
in one hand and watching the fire of the ICM.
"But my home is in the lowlands, and always will be.
Someday you'll return to your valleys and farms.
And you'll no longer burn to be brothers in arms."
Dancing in front of him was a hologram. A tall, lithe brunette in the uniform of a
Fleet lieutenant commander was talking about how to raise a daughter long distance. The
commander was very beautiful, a beauty that had once been an odd contrast to the almost
troglodytic appearance of her famous husband. She also was calmer and wiser in the
ways of people, an anodyne to the often hot-headed man she had married.
What she was not was as lucky as her husband. A fact he never could quite forget.
Another wash of ICM landed and hard on its heels a flight of saucer shapes lifted
into the air and charged west across the river. The Posleen were learning, learning that
terrain obstacles could be crossed with determination and a well led force. He watched
clinically as the hypervelocity missiles and plasma cannons of the God King vehicles
silenced strong points and a force of normals crossed on the makeshift bridge. The
wooden contraption, simple planks lashed to dozens of boats scavenged from all over,
would have been easily destroyed by the artillery fire but, as usual, the artillery
concentrated on the "enemy assembly areas" and "strategic terrain." Not the Posleen
force, without which the terrain would no longer be strategic.
"They learn, honey," he whispered. "But we never do."
They hadn't learned in the unexpected skirmishes before the war officially started,
when they lost Fredericksburg and almost lost Washington. When lightly armed "fast
frigates" had been thrown willy-nilly at battleglobes.
The battleglobes were constructed of layer upon layer of combat ships. A direct hit
by an antimatter warhead would strip a layer off a section of the exterior but the inner
ships would simply blow the damage off and reengage. Thus the theory of using a
massive punch to break them up and then engaging the scattered ships with
"secondaries." But that required not only fleets of secondary ships, fighters, frigates and
destroyers, but a massive central capital ship.
However, rather than wait until the Fleet was fully prepared the Galactic command
had thrown more and more ships, practically right out of the shipyards, into the battle.
Pissing them away in dribs and drabs not only in Terran space but over Barwhon and
Irmansul. The loss of the ships, the secondaries that were vital to the overall plan, was
bad enough, but the loss of trained personnel had been devastating.
The invasion of Earth had practically cut it off from space and none of the other
races of the Galactic Federation could fight. To provide the planned crews for the Fleet,
Earth had been stripped of likely candidates and they were put through months and years
of simulator training in preparation for when they would venture forth to triumph in
space. Instead, they had been thrown away in skirmish after skirmish, none of them doing
any noticeable damage to the Posleen. Thus, the limited number of off-planet forces had
been bled white before the first capital ship was completed.
The second invasion wave was fully in swing before the first "superdreadnought"
was launched. This massive ship, nearly four kilometers long, was designed to use its
spinal hypercannon to break up the globes. And it worked with remarkable facility.
Coming in at high velocity from Titan Base the Lexington smashed two of the globes
headed for Terra. And then it was swarmed.
Thousands of smaller ships, the skyscraper shaped Lampreys and C-Dec command
ships, surrounded the beleaguered superdreadnought and pounded it to scrap. Despite the
heavy anti-ship defenses along the sides and despite the massive armor it was stripped to
a hulk by repeated antimatter strikes. Finally, when no further fire was forthcoming, the
wreckage was left to drift. So durable was the ship the generators at its core were never
touched and it was eventually salvaged and rebuilt. But that took more years, years that
the Earth didn't have.
Mike wondered how many other wives and husbands, mothers and fathers were
pissed away by the goddamned Fleet. By "admirals" who couldn't pour piss out of a boot
with the instructions on the heel. By a high command that kowtowed to the damned
Darhel. By senior commanders who had never seen a Posleen, much less killed one.
And he wondered when it was going to be his turn.
He watched the ghost of his wife's smile as the cold autumn rains dripped off his
shaved head and the artillery hammered the advancing centaurs. And flicked the safety of
his pistol on and off.
* * *
Jack Horner stood arms akimbo smiling at the blank plasteel helmet in front of him.
"Where in the hell is O'Neal?"
摘要：

WhentheDevilDancesJohnRingoPosleenInvasionTimelineOctober9,2004FirstLandingFiveGlobes:Landings:Fredericksburg,CentralAfrica,S.E.Asia,Uzbekistan.July28,2005FirstWave62Globes:PrimaryLandings:EastCoastNorthAmerica,Australia,India.August15,2005LastTransmission:AustralianDefenseCommand,AliceSprings.April...

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