With a bright blue energy pulse, the warp probe dropped out of superluminal transit and got its bearings in the uncharted system. Measuring how much the stars had changed position, it found itself to be just thirty lightyears due Stellar North of New Vancouver, its launch point. It automatically began to broadcast to CAST's star map, and the computer archive updated itself, adding the system to the registry. The message confirmed, the probe's artificial intelligence began to zip around the system, scanning each and every celestial body its gravimetric sensors could pick up. A preliminary survey conducted of all major planets and planetoids, it homed in on a peculiar reading on the star's second world.
Planet. 3,000-kilometer radius. Nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere. Water cycle. High probability of life.
Spectroscopic survey in progress... methane, carbon dioxide, industrial aerosols detected. Life confirmed.
Electromagnetic signatures detected. Thermal radiation clusters detected. High probability of urban centers.
Radio signature detected. Post-industrial society confirmed. Scanning broadcasts...
An autorun program looked through the signal, picking out and examining bits and pieces until it threw up a red flag.
ALERT. ALERT. Signals encrypted. Cypher consistent with aggressive alien species "Poslushi." Sending emergency flash message... message received. Orders received. Mission updated.
Then, the probe, with a few blasts of its thrusters, maneuvered into an orbit of the world. Its radar telescope, normally used to detect planets and stars from far away, was focused to a target much closer. It looked across the surface of the world, seeking a place to land. Quickly, it found a secluded little clearing, far away from any settlements yet close enough to make its presence known. Its thrusters fired a little bit more, and it descended from the skies in a bright orange streak.
---
The environmental suit was stifling to Polli, the crinkling fabric irritating his sensitive fluff and the lack of proper ventilation meaning that condensation was gathering on its visor. Still, it was necessary; in the earlier wars the Combine found itself in, probes like this carried anything from commando units in cryo to fancy bioweapons packages. As foremost among Omen's biochemists, he was assigned with carrying the emergency decontaminator bomb if it turned out to be the latter. Of course, the decontaminator bomb was really just a kiloton-scale neutron warhead, but the Poslushi said that it was still a potential biothreat, so he was still tasked with suicide-bombing the beloved forest around the clearing if need be.
The Ovinis huffed his nostrils in frustration. Still, the Poslushi knew better, they always knew better, and so he continued his trek along with the rest of the investigative squad to the landing site.
This was the first time Polli had ever seen a construct of the aliens from beyond the borders. It was blocky and harshly angular, unlike the smooth curves and satisfying geometry that studded the skylines of Omen's cities. Four long, spindly legs extended from it to punch into the ground, holding the machine about five meters off the ground. Pointing straight up was some sort of communications antenna, as if to cut the heavens themselves. Every now and then, the construct let out a high, piercing blip which echoed off the surrounding landscape, probably some sort of sonic mapping.
The noise became painfully loud as they got closer, to the point where Polli could feel his ear canal vibrating with each pulse. Holding one paw to his good ear, he said, "Ellrax, bring that thing down!"
Ellrax stepped forward, clutching a hammer in both paws, and knocked out two of the object's legs, causing it to fall and stop emitting the insufferable beeping. Stepping back as it came down, she admired her handiwork as Rolku opened the machine's internals with an arc torch. The steel carapace fell away, revealing a mess of electronic parts and mechanical components, all labeled in indecipherable glyphs.
Polli looked back at the Poslushi Driver Caste waiting for them at the edge of the clearing for some help, but he seemed to be intentionally ignoring them. Polli, sighing, examined the machine more closely. It appeared that there were three small propulsors mounted on its underside, explaining its soft landing.
"Both of you, pull this thing apart. I'll check for contaminants." Polli ordered Ellrax and Rolku. As they carefully disassembled the spacecraft, it became apparent that it wasn't manned, and neither was it intended to be. For a ship to autonomously navigate across lightyears of space would require a level of automation that would suggest a sin.
The Poslushi, in their early days, feared only one thing as they brought the stars to their righteous heel: replacement by their own creations. It had happened before; their first contact wasn't with an organic species, but with the caretakers that outlived them. Thus, from the beginning, the creation of artificial intelligence was completely forbidden under pain of death. Were these extraterrestrials unaware of this, or were they openly flouting Combine law? By account of the savagery of their assaults upon Poslushi ground forces and vessels, it seemed to be the latter.
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Whatever these... things were, they held no regard for common decency, refusing to surrender when clearly outmatched and refusing to retreat when an enemy was on its last legs. They ambushed the Poslushi in the middle of the night like animals, hollering and discharging fire-spitting weapons to tear apart the Combine's soldiers. Not only that, but they seemed stuck in a medieval state, divided beyond belief while honing weapons that, Polli assumed, were used on one another before the arrival of the peacekeeping Poslushi.
Suddenly, the ground shook briefly, and a few seconds later, a low blast rang through the land. The Poslushi looked around frantically, then put his hand to the comms relay. "Forward team, I'm seeing an explosion."
"What happened?" Polli replied. Perhaps there had been a gas leak, or one of Omen's refineries had suffered a catastrophe. There was a pause, and then Polli heard the Poslushi draw a breath.
"It's coming from the direction of the Garrison Command! Get out of there; we're under attack!" he shouted. Then, Ellrax pointed to the probe, and Polli was instantly enlightened as to its purpose. A tiny light on the spacecraft's antenna had been blinking this whole time.
Then, a dull roar became just barely audible, then intensified until it was stronger than a combustor-train passing mere meters away. Polli looked up to see a massive, monolithic structure descending from the skies in a plume of flame. Then, in a blinding flare of fusion turbine exhaust, it slowed until it was drifting almost lazily above the clearing, nearly a kilometer up. Even from so far away, Polli could feel the blazing heat of the thermonuclear engines.
He turned to run back towards the Poslushi, but found himself staring down two smaller vessels.
KRRRRT. A spray of burning red slugs scythed the Poslushi apart as a screaming aircraft passed overhead, then banked away. Then, an arm wrapped around Polli's throat and held him back, hard. Scrabbling and choking, he tried to tear it away from his neck, but then he felt a sharp pinch in his spine and an ice-cold numbness began to spread through his body. Falling to his knees, he grabbed onto the arm for support, but then lost all strength, blacking out.
---
Darren stood on the flight deck of the Bunker Hill as it suspended itself above the planet, watching as strike craft were loaded and refueled, soon to go out and bomb somewhere new. Orbiting the world was a carronade ship of the German Navy, which, in a single volley of its massive rail-batteries, had all but obliterated almost every sensor tower or site in the hemisphere. Even now, it continued firing as new targets crested over the horizon.
Darren, personally, was most excited about what CAST was bringing to the table. Every other year or so, the Coalition would participate in Exercise Terra Firma, a military wargame designed to provide strategic data in the event that a real planetary invasion, be it of a human or alien world, would be necessary. Outshining other nations was a matter of great national pride, and many notable and highly-efficient weapons systems were developed by the various countries of CAST to help them dominate in the simulation. Chief among them was the MQ-127 Automaul.
The drone was the size of a large car, relied on twin-turbine engines, and had a comprehensive and modular weapons package, but its best feature was its ability to fly, fight, and land completely autonomously, scanning for and selecting targets with accuracy even greater than human pilots. Darren watched as one spun up its thrusters with a low, insect-like drone, then picked up off the deck and zipped out, off to obliterate yet another Poslushi administration building.
In twelve or so hours, the engineering brigade would be finished setting up the forward operating base and Darren would be deployed to the surface as part of a collection team, intended to nab government officials, lead scientists, and other planetary leaders for questioning before they could evacuate. He had already had some success in this field: a group of three sheep-people were currently being held and questioned in the ship's brig.
Once the FOB was up and running, CAST had no real intention of mounting a serious offensive. From the looks of this world, it was home to millions at the least, making a planetary pacification impractical within the length of time the war was projected to take. Instead, the intent was a show of force, telling the aliens that just as they were capable of attacking Kormoran and Novoarkhangelsk, humanity was capable of a similar feat. Margaret Beaucanon, CAST's Director of Foreign Affairs, had been appointed as ambassador to the Poslushi, and perhaps, once this obviously warlike culture had been given a sufficient counterchallenge, they would accept a diplomatic resolution.
Only time could tell, though. If the Poslushi were unwilling to listen to reason, CAST wouldn't hesitate to do to them what they had done to the Russians. Already, the Germans had identified several dams, reservoirs, and what appeared to be geothermal stabilizers on the planet. If need be, they could throw the whole world into tectonic and hydrological hell with a few well-placed directed energy beams. And, if worse came to worst, the Bunker Hill was equipped with two dozen AGM-300 Mohican nuclear-tipped hypersonic cruise missiles with global range. In less than two hours, any area on the planet could be subjected to two megatons of whoop-ass if they wanted the Poslushi to really get the message.
Hopefully, it didn't come to that, but the Poslushi weren't exactly known for their overwhelming kindness. They were already a race of slavers and mind-benders, and it didn't seem like a good idea to just kind of sit there in a fort as a statement. It wasn't his job to ask questions, though, so he just went back below decks, hoping that the effects of alcohol could at least throw off the neuroforming.