Gray Panthers: Dixie by David Guenther

as thousands of shuttles departed from their hulls.
    “Admiral Bad, please do not attack our allies from Dixie. It really would be bad form after they rescued Earth,” Dan communicated to the fleet.
    “Fleet copies and is standing down. Our compliments to the Dixie fleet,” Admiral Bad replied, relieved that they had averted firing on friendlies.
    “Commander Butler, Gray Panther Command.”
    “Gray Panther Command, go ahead.”
    “Commander Butler, you and your squadron are hereby relieved. You may rejoin your main fleet at Dixie. Thank you again for your assistance, and here’s hoping we see you again under better conditions,” Dan relayed.
    “Thank you, Gray Panther Command. We will depart shortly. Thank you for the hospitality. Commander Butler out.”

Outskirts of New Mississippi, planet Dixie
    31 October 2128
    The city was only a few miles distant. Scotty was lying on the ground next to a huge tree, along with Lieutenant Semmes. The town was dead. Smoke rose from numerous fires that were not being fought. The lieutenant handed Scotty his binoculars and Scotty swept the fields outside the town. Hundreds of black burnt spots filled the fields.
    “I think the city was lost. Those spots on the fields are where Libra shuttles landed. I don’t see any wrecked shuttles, so they must not have been opposed,” Scotty ventured as he handed back the binoculars.
    “No, that couldn’t have happened. There has to be an explanation.” Turning toward his scouts, Semmes said, “Sergeant Linden, we are breaking radio silence. Contact the command post to let them know we are heading back into town.” He ignored the response as he once again swept the binoculars over the town.
    “Lieutenant Semmes, we’re not getting through. All frequencies appear dead. Even the capital has stopped broadcasting.”
    “Dammit all to hell! Send out an open hail in the clear using burst transmission so we can’t be triangulated.”
    “Sir, I got a response. Our fleet is back in orbit. We are the first ones they have been able to contact. They are requesting a sitrep.”
    “Lieutenant Semmes, New Mississippi Scouts, to unidentified caller.”
    “This is Admiral Pierre Gustave Toutant-Beauregard. Please report status of planet. We have just arrived and destroyed enemy fleet but have not been able to contact anyone on the planet.”
    “Sir, when I left New Mississippi three days ago, we were holding our own. I am now preparing to enter the city, but it appears dead. Numerous scorch marks outside the city make it appear that enemy ships had landed unopposed,” Semmes reported.
    “Report back your findings as soon as you can,” Toutant-Beauregard ordered.
    Turning his attention back to the patrol, Semmes said, “Okay, we are going home while we still have sunlight. Standard formation driving in. We’ll park one hundred feet from the main entrance to the city. Drivers will come with me while gunners man their weapons to provide support. No shooting unless you have a clear target. Mr. Ambassador, I’m going to have to insist that you stay back here. I can’t risk your life on a reconnaissance.”
    “Bullshit, son. Now let’s get going. The longer you fight with me, the more daylight you lose,” Scotty said flatly.
    “Dammit! Okay, people, move out.” Semmes jumped in the vehicle as the rear wheels spun, throwing up gravel. The rest of the patrol quickly caught up and assumed their positions. As they drew nearer, the smell coming from the city caused them to tie bandanas over their faces. It seemed to be a mix of excrement and rotted meat. Everyone in the convoy fought the urge to puke.
    The vehicles assumed their position one hundred feet from the main entrance to the city. The field around them was littered with clothing and assorted flotsam. Scotty got out of his vehicle and walked over to where a doll sat waiting for its owner to come back for it. Next to it was a heavy metal stick with prongs on one end and a handle on the