“The messengers killed the merksht and moved us up to the surface of the planet.” The next scene was what looked like a cluster of shacks with a number of Minchantaa nearby. “Then the gods came. They helped us—made some of us bigger and stronger—and we helped them build the tunnels we are now in.” The women drew in another sharp breath as two panels showed a dropship of an unknown variety landing in a clearing in the jungle, and then what looked like one of the Fae standing over a Minchantaa on an operating table.
“But then the gods grew displeased with us,” Fentayl continued. “They took all of the bigger, stronger Minchantaa, and they left to go back to the skies, and threw down fire on us. We didn’t know what we did to displease them—nor do we to this day—but their wrath was mighty. They threw down fire to show us their displeasure.” The next panel showed several mushroom clouds rising from the jungle.
“Those of us who could, fled to the tunnels, where the gods had left much of their goods, although we did not know how to use them, nor do we know what they are to this day. So we wait. We wait for the return of the gods, so that they will take us up to the skies with them, too.”
Fentayl pointed to the last picture, one that appeared newer than the rest. “We thought the gods had returned recently and we went to great them. We tried to show them that we were ready to go to the skies, but the beings who’d arrived killed us. We realized they weren’t the gods. After discussion, we decided to see if they were gods, and used our weapons on them. The invaders were not gods—they died, just like our people—and they got angry with us for testing their people. They have tried to kill us in revenge, ever since.”
“That was bad,” she continued, “but then they—you, I guess—brought in the new creatures to hunt us.”
“The HecSha,” Mun said.
“The smaller creatures with the tails.”
Sansar nodded. “They are called HecSha, but we didn’t bring them. They came here to conquer us.”
“As you say,” Fentayl replied. “When things looked darkest, we saw you in your shells and thought the messengers of the gods had returned. We did not know it was just a cruel trick on us.” She paused for a moment then added. “The gods are still displeased with us.”
“Can we have a moment to look at these by ourselves?” Sansar asked. “We promise not to touch them.”
“Yes, you may,” Fentayl replied. “But do not touch them. They are our history, and they are sacred to us. If you do anything to disfigure them, you will be killed.”
Fentayl moved out of the alcove, leaving the Horde members to discuss quietly.
“What do you think?” Sansar asked.
“I don’t think there’s any doubt that this is the home world of the MinSha,” Mun replied. “Who uplifted them, why, and when, though…those are all still questions.”
“What are those floppy-eared things?” Jacobs asked, pointing at the panel with the operating table.
“It almost looks like a race known as the Fae,” Sansar said. “But I’ve had the opportunity to observe one of them up close. They are great with mechanical things, but that’s where their skills end. They are almost idiot savants—they have an innate ability to fix machines but are barely sentient outside of that.”
“So maybe the Minchantaa saw a Fae fixing part of the uplift machinery and assumed they were the ones doing the uplifting?” Jacobs asked.
“Maybe…” Sansar replied, not sold on the idea. “If that is indeed the Fae. It’s possible—probably, really—that the race in the picture isn’t the Fae, but one that just looks like them.”
“Do you know what race that is?” Mun asked.
“No, but it may be a race that was made extinct during the Great War. There’s so much we don’t know about that time; so much that doesn’t exist in the records…”
“Why is that?” Jacobs asked.
“No one knows,” Sansar replied. “Or no one is telling anyway…”
“So, how does this help us get into the city?” Mun asked.
Sansar shrugged. “The pictures don’t; they just provide additional riddles.” She turned back to where Fentayl waited in the main tunnel. “Unless I miss my guess, though, these tunnels are part of an extensive network that extends under the city.”
“It does,” Fentayl replied. “I know the ones that are under the city; we could hear your people banging on them when they came, trying to get into them. Thankfully, they were never able to breach them.”
“How many of the doors lie under the city?” Sansar asked.
“Four. From what we can tell, there is one near the center of the city, and three that are toward the edges.”
“We need to get back to the rest of our people. If you don’t mind us walking through your home, I think we can get the doors open to get into the city, and then we can work things out between your people and mine so that no one else has to die.”
* * *
Near Graball, Talus, Talus System
“Nuclear detonation protocol!” the Phoenix pilot yelled.
Jim and the rest of his squad locked their CASPers, which were in turn secured to frames in the back of the dropship. They shoved themselves back against their suit padding while the dropship crew prepared for what was coming.
The dropship bucked like it had flown into a cliff. Even braced, Jim grunted as he was smacked against the padding in his armor. Then the dropship went into a steep climb followed by a plummeting descent.
“This is bad,
Is this it? Jim wondered. They’d been flying at a high altitude, which meant the pilots had a lot of space to get control of the ship. It was a hybrid—part spaceship and part airplane—which meant it wasn’t particularly good at being either. He closed his eyes and hoped it was good enough at flying.
They plummeted for a frighteningly long time until Jim felt the craft right itself, and Gs pulled at him as it angled upwards once more to level flight.
“Hussars TacCom to Cartwright Actual, are you okay?”
“Cartwright Actual,” Jim replied as he looked at the data feed from his dropship’s cockpit, “we’re going to be okay.” He checked the other dropships in his flight and saw they’d all fared better than his own, being somewhat behind them. “Report on what happened, please.”
“We show a 50-kiloton nuclear device was detonated directly over Alpha Company of Triple T. Colonel Gries and all the men in that unit have been killed.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jim cursed. One didn’t throw nukes at other mercs or even civilians. It was a degree of warfare beyond the pale. Bad for business, his father said when he was little, responding to just such a question from a very young Jim Cartwright.
“A massive unit of armor and infantry is forming outside the city. The surviving battalion commander of Triple T is requesting advice,” the Hussars TacCom called from orbit.
Jim briefly considered asking Captain Jormungd on Phaeton, the commander of the Winged Hussars space combat element, to take out the launcher from orbit. He considered it long and hard. The Egleesius-class ship’s weaponry would make short work of such an installation. The only problem was he and the other Horsemen commanders had all agreed not to break the rules against orbital attacks versus ground targets, even if their alien adversaries didn’t respect those same rules. They were taking the high road in this conflict…as long as they could.
“TacCom, inform Triple T and the Hellcats I advise them to scatter to avoid further targeting by tactical weapons. Please maintain overwatch and fire on any more missile launches.”
“Roger that. I’ll pass along the request to Captain Jormungd.”
They might not be able to slag the launch site from orbit, but that didn’t stop space forces from shooting down missiles. He was sure Jormungd would have already had ships in position to do just that, had they known a nuclear strike was a possibility. It was a w
aste of orbital firepower to shoot at every rocket flying around in a battlespace. Besides, a miss could hit ground targets, and then you were back to that “against the rules” thing.
“Hargrave,” Jim called.
“Go, Jim.”
“Take the rest of the company and establish a position further up the coast, as close to West Trace as you can get. Have all the other commands ready to push hard for Johnstown.”
“And what exactly are you planning on doing?”
“I’m heading for Bucephalus,” Jim said. “I’m done playing with these fuckers.”
“What are you going to do up…” Hargrave stopped when he realized what his young commander was thinking. The channel Hargrave was broadcasting from switched to their privileged frequency. “Damn it, kid, you can’t be thinking of dropping that thing from orbit?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Jim said, switching channels to order his dropship pilot to boost for space.
“You’ve never tried something like that,” Hargrave persisted. “Shit, you don’t even know if it can do that.”
“I know,” Jim said, and he did. He didn’t know how, he just did. “Those are my orders.”
“Very well,” Hargrave replied, his voice tense.
Jim changed frequencies again. “Captain Su?”
“Go ahead, Colonel Cartwright.”
“Please have the armorers prepare Dash for combat.”
“I’m with Lieutenant Colonel Hargrave on this,” she said, “this is not advisable.”
“Duly noted,” Jim said. The dropship’s much more powerful ascent engines roared as it nosed upwards toward space.
“Kick ass time,
“Damn straight,” Jim said, already feeling the excitement build.
The Phoenix dropships were designed for fast movement between space and the ground, and vice versa. Nine minutes from the moment he gave the order, they were docking with Bucephalus. A tech came aboard and released Jim’s suit from the deployment frame. Once he was free, he floated toward the ship.
“Buddha,” Jim called.
“Go ahead,” his top sergeant replied from further back in the dropship.
“Take the squad back down to Talus and link up with Hargrave.” Buddha didn’t reply. “You don’t approve either?”
“No, I don’t, Jim. You take too many risks with your life.”
“Those bastards just killed a hundred men under my command,” Jim said. “They’ve been killing civilians indiscriminately. What do you think I should do? An assault force is mustering, and they could have dozens of nukes just waiting for us to mass to receive their attack. Who knows how many civilians would die? I can end this in minutes.”
“You could also die in minutes, Jim.”
“I take that chance every time I climb into a CASPer,” Jim reminded him. “Follow my orders.”
“Yes, sir,” Buddha said, and Jim entered Bucephalus. The armorer helped him quickly exit his CASPer, which was decidedly easier in zero gravity. Splunk flew out of the cockpit right behind him, and the two headed aft.
“Captain Su,” Jim called through his pinplant-linked radio, “please let me know when our orbit will intercept an approach to Johnstown.”
“You’ll have a somewhat less than nominal approach in twenty minutes, Colonel,” the ship’s captain replied.
“Thank you, Captain. Prepare for launch at that time.” Splunk rode with him as he quickly flew through the ship’s corridors until he reached the midline access ports. A trio of techs waited there for him. “Ready to go?” Jim asked them.
“Yes, Colonel,” the senior tech said. Unlike everyone else who’d heard about Jim’s intention, the techs were genuinely excited. All three of them saluted their commander as Jim moved sideways into the corridor.
“Thank you for working quickly,” he said as he activated the lock.
“Go get ’em, sir!” one of the other techs said. All three were grinning like kids. For that matter, so was Jim.
The connecting collar was one of the inflatable plastic types used when ships of differing designs needed to dock. He always thought it was like climbing through a plastic coated slinky surrounded by vacuum, and it was just as scary as it sounded. There were only a few mils of plastic between himself and sucking death.
Splunk shot ahead of him through the next hatch, her tail whipping back and forth for balance and showing her excitement. In a second, she was inside and out of sight. Jim grinned as he floated behind her, grabbed the inside hatch, and using his legs against the interior wall, shoved it closed. Gratefully, the airtight door cut them off from the tube of death.
The interior space was familiar from hours of work and operation, and it also felt incredibly comforting. Jim was suddenly overwhelmed with the childhood memory of coming home to the family’s now-sold estate outside of Houston after a hard day at school. It was a sensation of belonging and welcome which left him gasping in surprise.
It’s never felt like this before, he thought as he pushed through the strange sensations and through the curving, conduit-strewn passageway. Luckily, the task was considerably easier in zero gravity than on a planet. He arrived in the cockpit just a minute behind his Fae partner.
“Ready, Jim,
“Yeah, sure,” he said, though not as confident as he’d been before boarding. He shook his head and slid the access hatch closed, dogging it tight and isolating them from the rest of the machine.
The cockpit was many times larger than the one in his Mk 7 CASPer, which itself was considered spacious compared to the Mk 8. His operator station was suspended in the center, a framework he would fit into with a section behind him where Splunk rode. She was already there and was working at the controls. The strange luminescent displays filled with living chemicals were pulsing with multicolored activity.
His strange feelings were washed away as he noticed changes. The other Fae have been busy, he realized, noting a new fixture here, a moved component there. Before the assault on Talus, he’d seen that one or more of the many Fae who’d come with him to New Warsaw were aboard Bucephalus. Here was evidence they’d been working on his personal Raknar in addition to whatever else they were up to. Splunk wouldn’t tell him how many were aboard.
Splunk had assured him back at New Warsaw that the ancient Raknar was now ready for what was coming. Jim knew the machines could do it; he’d seen as much from the scant surviving records as well as evidence unearthed on his and Splunk’s information gathering trip across the galaxy. Now he was about to come face to face with it.
Trying to concentrate on what he needed to do, Jim pushed off and floated across the cockpit to his operator’s frame and strapped in. Splunk continued to work at her tasks in silence. With a final nod to Jim, she triggered the twin fusion plants, bringing the Raknar to life. Power surged and the 30-meter-long mecha thrummed with barely restrained terawatts of power.
“Bucephalus, this is Dash,” Jim called through his headset.
“Dash, this is Bucephalus, go ahead.”
“We are hot and ready to rock. Release when ready.”
“Orbital track is nominal, release in five…four…three…two….one…”
There was a loud Clang! as multiple magnetic clamps released, and he felt the mecha drift free. Jim used the hand controls to fire the RCS thrusters, moving them away from the merc cruiser.
“We show you clear,” Captain Su said. “Godspeed.”
Jim acknowledged the transmission and turned his attention to operating the mecha. He manually pushed them away from the Cavaliers’ ship and burned the thrusters for a solid minute, watching on his pinplants as data confirmed the deorbit burn and approach profile. They were on target, and it was time to get his game face on.
“Okay, Splunk,” he said, and looked over his shoulder to where she waited, watching him with her huge blue-on-blue eyes. The tinted goggles she habitually wore against bright light were floating loosely around her tiny neck
, one dexterous foot grasping a conveniently placed protrusion. She was as at home in the Raknar as anywhere he’d ever seen her. “Akee,” he said.
“
Jim gasped at the now familiar and somehow atavistic surge of oneness he got when Splunk linked his mind to the Raknar. He’d realized some time ago that she was a sort of telepath. He’d been surprised by that. Of course, thinking back to how she completed the link of machine to man, he shouldn’t have been surprised at all. What was that action, but a form of telepathy performed between man and machine?
Jim, the young commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers, ceased to be, and Jim/Splunk became something incredibly more powerful. They weren’t piloting a 1,000-ton, 20,000-year-old war machine. They were the machine.
He felt parts of his mind shifting to evaluation and control of the Raknar. Power levels were tested, reserves apportioned, motive systems evaluated. Those steps underway, another part of him reviewed their mission profile, then examined the approach. Far too conservative, was the conclusion. The Raknar fired its maneuvering jets again, and the angle of attack became extreme.
That’s more like it, he thought. The weapons were reviewed. The part of him older than humanity’s written language was satisfied with the improvements it found. While no optimized assault weaponry was on board, the previous improvised main armament was now much more functional, and secondary weapons were in place. This included melee options as well as close defense. Excellent. A part of Jim’s remaining self gasped as he realized what was at his disposal. The greater self exulted in pure unbridled POWER!
The atmosphere began to make itself felt, heating the Raknar’s armor. It rolled into a ball and spun, coming out of the spin with feet pointing down toward the leading edge of atmospheric interface. The most heavily armored and heat resistant part of the Raknar, it could easily slough off 3,200 Kelvin like it was nothing.
A Pale Dawn Page 21
