A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  “We all made it,” Panka said. “Some minor damage; these Mk 9s are badass.”

  Hargrave grunted in agreement. The armored glass was a reinforced polymer. He didn’t know if his old Mk 8 would have come through as easily, even though it outweighed the new suits by 200 kilograms. “Penetrate to the interior,” he ordered. There were two massive, open interior atriums which ran from the ground to the 90th floor. All they had to do was get there and then fly up to within eleven floors of their final objective.

  Through his battlespace, projected into his brain, Hargrave could see a pair of his troopers in Second Squad—Privates Strader and Tucker—slam into the interior wall and through it. Their momentum was so great that when they penetrated the wall, they were catapulted out into the void of the atrium.

  The troopers’ CASPers automatically engaged their flight systems and stabilized, their sensors gathering details of their surroundings and sending it to Hargrave’s suit, which assembled it into the battlespace; details like the height of the floors, the construction of the balconies overlooking the atrium, and the hundreds of Tortantula hanging from those balconies.

  “Holy sh—” Strader started to scream before his suit was torn apart by a dozen MAC rounds. Tucker didn’t bother yelling, he evaded, sending his suit into a dizzying spin within the open atrium. It worked for a second, but the atrium wasn’t wide enough to allow much maneuverability. He got too close to a wall, and a Tortantula snagged him as he went by, jumping onto the suit and clamping onto it with all ten of its arms.

  “Get off me, you fucker!” Tucker yelled, his suit’s thrusters screaming in protest at suddenly supporting over a ton.

  “Get through to help him!” Panka yelled.

  Hargrave could see a dozen more Tortantula leaping out into the open atrium, with nothing but air below them for 100 meters. All but one missed. When a second massive spider-like alien trooper latched on, Trucker’s suit thrusters overloaded, and he fell like a stone, cursing until the concrete below silenced him forever.

  The rest of the platoons cut through interior walls without racing out. Their two men were dead; it made no sense to join them. Hargrave’s battlespace showed at least a hundred Tortantula within easy view. As soon as each trooper got enough of a hole, they opened fire with autocannon or shoulder-mounted laser and MAC.

  The Tortantula went absolutely berserk, diving into the barrage and crashing against the walls to get at the Humans on the other side. They died, mowed down without concern for themselves. Hargrave had seen this tactic more times than he cared to remember. He also learned the best way to deal with it: unrelenting fire.

  “Hold what you’ve got!” he roared over the squadnet. The two platoons of Alpha Company dug in, falling back from the walls only far enough to allow a better field of fire before pouring hell onto the charging aliens. Hargrave’s arm-mounted minigun was glowing red-hot by the time the Tortantula charge finally wavered, faltered, and then stopped all together.

  “Reload; assess losses,” he told Panka as he grabbed a fresh magazine for the minigun, one of only two he was carrying for this assault. The suit said its power was down to 81%, minigun overheated, and armor undamaged. He’d lost another trooper, this one from First Squad, Private Timmy Ventura, who had been with the Cavaliers since they’d reconstituted. Corporal Manni Ratliff from Second Platoon was critically injured, but they had no way to evac him.

  “What’s his odds?” Hargrave asked his squad’s medic, Private “Moose” O’Hara.

  “Not good,” Moose replied. “I pumped him full of nanites; it’s the best I can do.”

  “Okay, back in line,” Hargrave said. “Rick,” he said, calling Private Carl “Rick” Stodden.

  “Sir?” Rick replied.

  “Get me eyes in there, ASAP.”

  “Right away,” the trooper replied. A second later, a pair of miniature drones were flying through the ravaged walls and into the atrium. Instantly the battlespace was updated.

  There were still Tortantula. Lots of them. However, they were a dozen floors up and just as far below. He saw the tiny shapes of Flatar on some of them, which meant they were reorganizing. The Flatar were the brains of the killing organization. The Cavaliers might just have a few critical seconds.

  “Go!” he yelled. “In and up as far as you can get. Take cover when we get organized; return fire.” The thirty-six surviving Cavaliers of Alpha Company exploded through the wrecked walls, angled upwards, and rocketed toward the top.

  * * *

  EMS Pegasus, Geosynchronous Orbit over Central North America, Earth, Sol System

  “Thank you, Major Thorb,” Alexis said to the SalSha Avenger commander on the screen, “that was a tough job.”

  “It cost us many crew, Colonel Cromwell,” Thorb replied. “All of them were my friends.”

  “My condolences for your losses, but I fear the dying isn’t done quite yet,” she said. “Please transmit your combat readiness update to my XO as soon as it’s available.” She regretted being so businesslike with the young alien, but such was the way of war. She also regretted that their baptism of fire was as hard as it was—they’d lost an entire squadron, with Major Thorb’s Avenger the only one to come out alive. Even so, she marveled at the replay of their attack. Xander estimated they’d pulled at least twenty-three Gs on the attack. Take that, MinSha, she thought with a smile.

  “We have established geosynchronous orbit for our operational area,” Pleek, the helmsman reported.

  “The squadron is in position,” Paka confirmed.

  All five Egleesius-class battlecruisers orbited over the major area of ground operations. Should the need become dire, they would be able to rain down 200-terawatts of death in moments. The need would indeed have to be dire, though. All through their campaign against General Peepo’s war of conquest, the Humans had taken the higher ground, refusing to break the rules of merc warfare. Bombarding a planet from orbit was one of the most stringent rules. But this is our home world, she thought with growing anger. Over a thousand Human mercs were down there fighting to take it back.

 

  “You don’t think I know that?” Alexis replied.

 

  “Whatever I must.” Ghost had nothing more to add.

  “Squadron One is reporting intercept of the enemy battleship!” Abby Smith, the SitCon said.

  Alexis’ head came around to focus on that squadron’s area of the big Tri-V showing the four separate squadrons and their positions. The two battleships, Lubieszów and Byczyna, along with five cruisers and ten frigates, had been chasing the largest enemy fleet element since the Hussars had destroyed the only high-orbit defense platform. The battleship had a battlecruiser and three cruisers as screen and had played cat and mouse in orbit for hours. Now, the game was nearly over.

  “Offer them quarter,” Alexis said. Paka glanced at her as Hoot relayed those orders.

  “Lubieszów Actual,” a translated voice came over the radio.

  “Pegasus Actual,” Alexis replied, “go ahead, Captain Fookoolu.”

  “The enemy element is unwilling to yield.”

  “Destroy them,” she said without hesitation.

  The engagement played out in less than five deadly minutes. Waves of missiles and terawatts of particle energy flashed back and forth on the far side of Earth, and ships maneuvered to avoid it. Then it was over, the hulk of the alien battleship was deorbiting, headed for a fiery end in the Indian Ocean. The enemy battlecruiser was adrift, as was one of the cruisers. The other two were trying to run. The Hussars had lost two of her cruisers, Assault and Howler, along with the escort frigate Orcrist. Byczyna had taken moderate damage.

  “My regards to Captain Fookoolu,” Alexis said to the comms officer. She inwardly heaved a sigh. Sol was theirs. “Order Squadron One to eliminate those last two cruisers at their convenience but climb to geosynch to avoid ground fire and provide orbital suppo
rt for that hemisphere.”

 

  “What do you think?”

 

  “Maybe their command and control features are compromised,” Alexis suggested.

 

  Alexis considered. The assault had gone incredibly well, with minimal losses so far. They’d only lost twelve ships in the entire campaign and gained many more than that from the Maki prizes in Golara. A burning feeling of unease sat in the pit of her stomach. However, regardless of those feelings, she thought of something she’d learned something from her mother: Don’t let doubt steal success.

  “Update on Operation Rat Trap,” she ordered Paka. The Veetanho XO floated over to Hoot and spoke to the Buma. A minute passed before she got the answer.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Hargrave is only a few floors below the offices,” Paka said. “Colonel Cartwright has the starport in hand.”

  Alexis knew the last part. She’d seen the view of São Paulo on her monitor. At least a tenth of the city was in flames. The Raknars’ assault path was as clear as if a huge ship had crashed and left a burned and charred trail of destruction. Further orbital assessment showed three to four battalions of enemy mercs holding twelve kilometers to the north near the town of Mairiporã. Intel suggested they’d been ordered to counterattack, but seven 30-meter-tall killer mecha were something they didn’t seem to want to play Russian roulette with.

  She decided it was time to try to end it, before they were forced to let Cartwright clash against those battalions and do immeasurably more damage. The fight to re-take Houston was also becoming incredibly bloody, with more forces headed into the grinder. If that battle was allowed to go on much longer, they were going to lose a lot of people they really couldn’t afford to. A voice in the back of her head whispered, Maybe even Nigel. She needed to end this. Now. “Hoot, try and reach General Peepo.”

  Hoot’s big feathered head turned like a turret to look at her, “Captain, I don’t know which channels to use. The enemy has their comms satellites all locked down.”

  “Broadcast in the clear.”

  The alien blinked slowly, then nodded before turning his head back and working his boards. “All known tactical channels open; you are on,” he said.

  “General Peepo, this is Colonel Alexis Cromwell of the Winged Hussars, in command of the fleet holding in Earth orbit. We would like to talk.”

  Hoot closed his eyes as he scanned thousands of frequencies at the same time. A full minute passed, and Alexis was beginning to think it was a waste of time when Hoot’s eyes suddenly snapped open. “I have laser comm lock,” he said in obvious surprise, “direct to Pegasus.”

  “Origination of signal?” she asked.

  “I can’t be one hundred percent certain, but it’s from the area of Brazil, possibly São Paulo. Voice only.”

  “Put in on,” Alexis ordered.

  “Stand by,” a computer voice said from the other end.

  A second later, a voice she recognized came on. “Good afternoon, Colonel Cromwell.”

  “General Peepo?” Alexis asked.

  “Of course; you know my voice.”

  “I do,” Alexis agreed. She’d first met Peepo decades ago, the first time she’d ever gone to Karma with her mother. Peepo’s Pit had once been considered by many as the preeminent merc pit in the Tolo arm, possible the entire galaxy. “However, I’d feel more confident if we could talk, face to face.”

  “Humans are so sentimental.” The sneer was evident in her words, but in a second, Hoot nodded, and Alexis pointed at the big Tri-V.

  Combat data was reduced to half the display and moved to one side. The remainder of the space became the inside of a luxurious office with a surprisingly simple, though massive, wooden desk. The view through the wall-to-wall window behind the desk showed the wide eastward expanse of São Paulo. She could just make out several humanoid shapes in the distance next to the towering launch laser of the São Paulo starport. Columns of smoke rose skyward in many places while fires raged in others. Sitting behind the desk was the graying whiskery face of Peepo.

  “I wish I could say it’s nice to see you again,” Alexis said and bowed her head ever so slightly, “General Peepo. You should have stayed in retirement.”

  “And you should have accepted capitulation,” Peepo responded instantly.

  “And you shouldn’t have tried to murder Colonel Enkh. Now she’s down there kicking your ass.”

  Peepo shrugged. “The situation is fluid.”

  The sounds of explosions echoed over the link, and Peepo got a pained expression for the first time. A pair of MinSha in heavy combat armor moved in from either side to stand at the ends of the desk, powerful laser rifles held ready. The trooper’s helmets were closed, their multifaceted eyes glowing slightly red in the office’s illumination. The chittering of more MinSha were audible elsewhere in the office.

  “That would be Cartwright’s Cavaliers downstairs preparing to have a little talk with you,” Alexis said, a huge grin on her face. Her expression then became somber as she continued, “Your fleet is defeated, we hold São Paulo starport, and will have Houston shortly. In a few more minutes the Cavaliers will be at your door.”

  “What exactly do they intend to do when they get here?” Peepo asked, no real sign of concern in her voice. Peepo’s English was polished with a decidedly American accent after decades of dealing with Human mercs from that country.

  “Why, take you into custody for crimes against humanity.”

  “Preposterous,” Peepo snapped. “You Humans are guilty of innumerable crimes. I am here to enforce the Mercenary Guild’s lawful orders.”

  “What’s lawful is determined by who can enforce that law.”

  There was a thunderous crash on Peepo’s end, and her eyes got wide for just a second. “The outcome will be unchanged if you take me,” she said quickly. “Whatever you hope to accomplish by my capture, it will be a waste of lives.”

  “A waste of lives,” Alexis said and nodded. “That’s why I’m talking to you now. We’re offering you a temporary cease fire.”

  “Why?” Peepo asked, her eyes narrowing and whiskers twitching in suspicion.

  “So we can talk,” Alexis said. “You are effectively held hostage by our forces. Any attempt to take off, and those seven Raknar will end your miserable life. I’ll come down myself—to you—so we can hold discussions.” Paka looked at Alexis. Being a Veetanho herself, she looked a lot like Peepo, including the look of surprise. She gave a little shake of her head, silently saying This is a bad idea. Alexis gave her XO a calming smile.

  “Just you,” Peepo said, agreeing to the idea quicker than Alexis expected.

  Maybe her forces are in worse shape than we believe, she thought. “Yes, just me. If you agree to a cease fire.”

  “You cannot land or recover forces during the cease fire,” Peepo said.

  “Medical evacuations need to be allowed,” Alexis said.

  “Very well, for both sides.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then I will call a cease fire immediately,” Peepo said. “For six hours or the duration of our negotiations.”

  “Done.” Alexis used her pinplants to transmit the update to all Hussars forces, and relayed it to the other Horsemen and the smaller merc units on Earth.

  Peepo closed her eyes for a second then opened them again. “Done.”

  Alexis looked at Abby. The woman used her pinplants and examined her various small Tri-V displays. After a second, she looked at Alexis and nodded. “We are getting reports of a cessation of hostilities by all enemy forces.”

  “Excellent,” Alexis said and looked back at Peepo. “I’ll be down in less than an hour.”

  “That is acceptable,” Peepo said, then turned her head looking at Paka floating just behind Alexis. “And you—you a
re a traitor to your race.”

  The word traitor was spat like a rat facing a predator. Paka jerked as if she’d been physically struck. It took her several seconds to reply. By the time she did, she was shaking with fury. “Is that so?” She turned to her captain. “I will fly you down.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Alexis said.

  “I want to tell Peepo what I think of her myself.”

  “See you soon,” Peepo said, and the transmission terminated.

  “Contact the hangar deck,” Paka ordered, “and prepare a shuttle. I’ll be flying the captain down to São Paulo.”

  Alexis nodded in resignation. Likely the worst that would happen is she’d have to keep her XO from trying to kill Peepo. She was actually a little relieved to have her closest ally at her back. A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought that Peepo would ever violate a truce. Now? Now she just didn’t know. In an hour, she’d find out.

  “Lieutenant Commander Akoo,” she said, addressing Hoot by his proper name.

  “Captain?” he replied.

  “You have the conn. See you soon.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  Merc Internment Facility, Lagos, Nigeria, Earth

  The first shuttle landed with the ramp already down, and Sansar’s executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Laverno, strode down it as soon as the shuttle touched down. A second shuttle immediately followed, landing alongside the first in the courtyard.

  “Good to see you again, Boss!” Laverno called as Sansar walked over to him.

  “Good to be back,” Sansar said. “What have you heard so far?”

  “Looks like the landings are going well in São Paulo and Houston, and in several other smaller ones around the globe. In many places, people are rising up against their captors.” He nodded to the mercs who were boarding the shuttle. While they had obviously seen better days, they also had a steely look of determination in their eyes. They wanted payback on the person—no, the alien—who had held them in those conditions. “In fact, I just heard Peepo offered a truce.”