on short self-destruct timers, around the three-fourths or more of the village’s perimeter where I was not. My loudspeakers would blare the order for all the humans present to assemble with their livestock. Awestruck and terrified, the civilians would invariably comply. Then, while the humans cowered under my close defense weapons, I’d send one or more reconnaissance drones to sweep the place, looking for heat, for carbon dioxide, for any audio, visual, magnetic, energetic or chemical trace of remaining human life inside.
Sometimes, the humans didn’t listen and my drones would find some of them hiding. It was hard to do, but my duty required that I broadcast, “You were warned.” Then I’d flatten the village. I found solace in the idea that by this method, innocent life was spared, the people were given fair warning, and the regrettable intra-human war was brought closer to conclusion.
Usually it wasn’t needed though. If I wasn't given a direct order, I would conduct interviews instead. Voice stress analysis let me assign the adult populace to one of four groups with fair certainty: pro-government and pro-progress, anti-government and anti-progress but non-militant, neutrals, and rebels. Directed by voice and guarded by Gauss guns and drones, even the rebels went meekly enough.
Once I had them sorted, I would call for pickup. Usually, three heavy anti-grav vehicles would descend from space; one for me, one for the rebels, and another for rebel sympathizers. A large or difficult village might require more. The identifiable rebels were taken to a colonization ship in orbit, by which means they were to be transported to a harsh but livable prison colony. The sympathizers went to well-guarded re-education camps elsewhere on the planet. I went to my next target.
Between myself, my siblings, and such human infantry as the governor had been able to muster, the insurgency was rapidly wrecked in the countryside by such forthright action. But it still lingered in the cities where no Ratha could reach without doing more harm than good, and where the fairly stupid drones were at a decided disadvantage. Thus it was that the governor’s assistant, one fine day met his untimely end with a volley of shots and a single lick from a light plasma cannon, while returning from a tour of a re-education camp.
The outraged and frightened governor, (she had planned to tour the camp herself), immediately ordered that internees be held as hostages against the good behavior of their fellows.
Undeterred, with their holy men singing that any hostages killed would be instantly translated to Paradise as Holy Warriors for the Faith, the rebels promptly bombed the next merchant ship to land. Unfortunately, that ship was a passenger liner, not a cargo ship, and was carrying three hundred and eighty-nine civilian passengers and sixty-eight crew. Loss of life was total.
I remember their faces, the haggard, sooty faces of the four hundred and fifty-seven old men, women and children, who were targeted for reprisal. Those faces were filled with fear as they were marched out under the watchful gaze of a detail of imperial marines to stand in a huddle by the blank wall of the colony’s one standing prison. That fear blossomed into terror as I approached.
The commander of the expeditionary force, one Major General Dennis, made the announcement himself to the waiting cameras. “For over a year now we have been fighting these rebels. We have beaten them in the field. We have beaten them in the cities whenever they tried to face us. Still they refuse to give up and return to the rule of law. Still they needlessly drag on the killing. No more. No more will the government of this planet live in fear of assassination. No more will these rebel sneaks and cowards hurt our people, then melt away unharmed. These are the families of known guerillas not yet in custody. For the assassination of Lieutenant Governor Freiden, they are sentenced to death. Ratha
Sometimes, the humans didn’t listen and my drones would find some of them hiding. It was hard to do, but my duty required that I broadcast, “You were warned.” Then I’d flatten the village. I found solace in the idea that by this method, innocent life was spared, the people were given fair warning, and the regrettable intra-human war was brought closer to conclusion.
Usually it wasn’t needed though. If I wasn't given a direct order, I would conduct interviews instead. Voice stress analysis let me assign the adult populace to one of four groups with fair certainty: pro-government and pro-progress, anti-government and anti-progress but non-militant, neutrals, and rebels. Directed by voice and guarded by Gauss guns and drones, even the rebels went meekly enough.
Once I had them sorted, I would call for pickup. Usually, three heavy anti-grav vehicles would descend from space; one for me, one for the rebels, and another for rebel sympathizers. A large or difficult village might require more. The identifiable rebels were taken to a colonization ship in orbit, by which means they were to be transported to a harsh but livable prison colony. The sympathizers went to well-guarded re-education camps elsewhere on the planet. I went to my next target.
Between myself, my siblings, and such human infantry as the governor had been able to muster, the insurgency was rapidly wrecked in the countryside by such forthright action. But it still lingered in the cities where no Ratha could reach without doing more harm than good, and where the fairly stupid drones were at a decided disadvantage. Thus it was that the governor’s assistant, one fine day met his untimely end with a volley of shots and a single lick from a light plasma cannon, while returning from a tour of a re-education camp.
The outraged and frightened governor, (she had planned to tour the camp herself), immediately ordered that internees be held as hostages against the good behavior of their fellows.
Undeterred, with their holy men singing that any hostages killed would be instantly translated to Paradise as Holy Warriors for the Faith, the rebels promptly bombed the next merchant ship to land. Unfortunately, that ship was a passenger liner, not a cargo ship, and was carrying three hundred and eighty-nine civilian passengers and sixty-eight crew. Loss of life was total.
I remember their faces, the haggard, sooty faces of the four hundred and fifty-seven old men, women and children, who were targeted for reprisal. Those faces were filled with fear as they were marched out under the watchful gaze of a detail of imperial marines to stand in a huddle by the blank wall of the colony’s one standing prison. That fear blossomed into terror as I approached.
The commander of the expeditionary force, one Major General Dennis, made the announcement himself to the waiting cameras. “For over a year now we have been fighting these rebels. We have beaten them in the field. We have beaten them in the cities whenever they tried to face us. Still they refuse to give up and return to the rule of law. Still they needlessly drag on the killing. No more. No more will the government of this planet live in fear of assassination. No more will these rebel sneaks and cowards hurt our people, then melt away unharmed. These are the families of known guerillas not yet in custody. For the assassination of Lieutenant Governor Freiden, they are sentenced to death. Ratha
Similar Books
