Rikas Marauders

by M. D. Cooper

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs and the soft swish of the door opening a moment later reached her ears, and Rika turned to see Jerry approaching.

  “Quite the view up here, isn’t it?” he asked as he carefully walked across the rooftop toward her.

  “Checking on me?” Rika asked.

  Jerry shrugged as he reached he side. “Maybe a little bit.”

  Rika gave a soft laugh. “I would have, too. Sorry I woke you; I just wanted to take a look at the city with my own eyes. There’s always something missing from the intel. Everyone sees things differently.”

  “It’s OK,” Jerry said as he ran a hand through his messy tangle of hair. “I wasn’t really sleeping well, anyway. I’m surprised you’re not, though; I always find that cryo takes a lot out of me.”

  “I soaked up a lot of calories today. Took in some NutriPaste after the meal,” Rika said. “I can make it a few days without sleep if I’m well fed.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine for the body, but what about the mind?”

  Rika turned to Jerry, meeting his dark eyes. “Seriously? You care about my mental state?”

  Jerry gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, it’s not entirely altruistic. I’m not excited about the thought of an overstressed, exhausted mech within arm’s reach.”

  “And here I thought you cared,” Rika said, turning back to the view of Berlin and the distant lights of intermittent air and ground traffic, flitting about under the starlight.

  “Hey, I’m not exactly excited about having you here against your will,” Jerry said. “But orders are orders.”

  “By ‘against my will’, you mean as a slave,” Rika said.

  “Hey, you’re not a—” Jerry began, but stopped when Rika shot him a quelling glare.

  “Am I getting paid for this job? Can I leave?”

  “Uhh…well…”

  “Slave,” Rika said in a tone that brooked no further discussion on the subject.

  Jerry didn’t speak for a minute, and then he let out a long breath.

  “Look, I admit that I didn’t want you here—and before you go and get all pissed off at me, I don’t mean you specifically. I mean anyone who’s not Jenny—she was our last sniper. Got killed a few months ago on another op. We knew they’d send someone to fill her shoes, but we weren’t expecting…”

  “A slave,” Rika finished for him.

  “You think you’re the only one that knows what that’s like?” Jerry asked, anger seeping into his voice. “I was drafted, just like you. I didn’t want to be in the GAF, but I couldn’t leave, either.”

  A sour laugh escaped Rika’s throat as she turned to face him. “Are you serious? You got drafted? I was coerced. Hell, I don’t even know if there is a word that combines ‘entrapment’, ‘coercion’, and ‘blackmail’ into one. I stole food. Food! And for that, I was given the option of enlistment or execution!”

  Jerry’s face fell, and he swallowed. “Shit, Rika. I had no idea. They always told us you mechs were mostly volunteers; that the compliance chips were just to keep any that went nuts from killing the rest of us.”

  “Yeah, well now you know. So maybe what happened to me was a bit worse than when you were drafted.”

  “Our government was really just a bunch of fucking shitheads, wasn’t it?” Jerry asked quietly. “Ever wonder if we’re better off since the Nietzscheans won?”

  “Fucked if I know,” Rika said. “Now instead of our government flushing us all down the drain, we’re doing it to ourselves—all while the Nietzscheans watch and make a profit off our backs.”

  Jerry nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty rough in some places. But you see that a lot after a war. I’ve been around a bit since then, and some of the other Marauders even longer. Things are shit almost everywhere. Everyone is attacking everyone.”

  “Seems nice enough here,” Rika said as she looked over the city. “Well, ‘til we kill off their leaders, at least.”

  “Kill or be killed, Rika. That’s the way of it. Twelve thousand years of civilization, and that’s what we humans do best. I’d rather be one of the killers.”

  Rika had no response for that. She agreed, but she didn’t want him to think that she was OK with what they were going to make her do.

  “Well, now that I know you’re not going to jump off the roof and leave the premises, I’m going to go see if sleep will visit me tonight,” Jerry said as he straightened.

  “’Night,” Rika replied.

  Jerry tentatively laid a hand on Rika’s shoulder, and she did her best not to flinch. Human contact was not something she’d had much of, other than the evening with Chase, which was beginning to feel like it was in her distant past—or like a dream.

  “I meant what I said before,” Jerry said. “The Old Man’s a good guy. He’ll reward you for a job well done. I know it.”

  Rika turned her head and met Jerry’s eyes. He appeared sincere; his heart rate was slow and his blood pressure low.

  “Thanks. I hope so.”

  Jerry turned and left, and Rika resumed gazing out over the city.

  Berlin.

  Where she would assassinate a president.

  THE GENERAL

  STELLAR DATE: 12.14.8948 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Combat Information Center, MSS Foe Hammer

  REGION: Interstellar Space, near the Praesepe Cluster

  General Mill closed the report from Gregor on the situation with the mech girl, Rika. She had been successfully delivered to the team on Pyra assigned with the assassination of President Ariana. However, there had been no time to brief her or Basilisk before her arrival.

  Even worse, the packet explaining that she only had to work off half her debt to the Marauders didn’t make it into the shipment; just the information for Lieutenant Jerry on how to use her compliance chip to control her if there was an issue.

  Still, the coordination officer on Pyra hadn’t picked up any distress signals from Basilisk, so General Mill had to assume that all was as it should be—difficult as that was.

  Operation Phoenix was still a go.

  Mill rose from his desk and walked to the window in his ready room. It didn’t look out over the stars, but instead down into the main shuttle bay of his flagship, the Foe Hammer.

  He watched as two B’Muths were loaded under a drop ship, ready to hit the dirt. The massive, four legged walkers were well suited to different types of ground combat, both urban and rural. They were one of his favorite weapons platforms.

  The Septhian Government hadn’t contracted the Marauders to launch a ground assault on Pyra, but he suspected they would. The Thebans may look like a soft target, but Mill knew it would take more than a series of assassinations to take them down.

  When Septhia came calling for troops, the Marauders would be ready.

  Near the assault craft, a dozen fast exfiltration ships were loading supplies, getting ready for departure within the hour.

  the voice of the regimental administration AI entered his mind.

 

 

 

  Laura replied.

  Mill replied.

  Mill returned to his chair and sat down, spreading the mission briefs out once more. He had never planned a covert operation this large before, though it was not his first regime-toppling action—just his first as a mercenary.

  There were forty teams on Pyra; thirty in the capital city alone. Another three-dozen teams were spread out in the Albany System, ready to take out targets on the other worlds, and key stations.

  His contact in the Septhian government had assured him that different outfits had the four other Theban star systems well in hand. He suspected that the Septhians meant the news to comfort him—but it didn’t. Inste
ad, it kept him up at night. If any one of those other mercenary companies messed up and got caught, it would put his people in jeopardy.

  Which was another reason why fast exfiltration teams were preparing their crafts for departure in the bay below.

  Mill pulled up the holodisplay of his fleet relative to the Albany system. He was taking a risk, assembling his ships within the Theban alliance; but with his vessels seven light-months away from the Albany System’s primary—a main sequence G-spectrum star named Howe—there was little chance that they would be spotted.

  It also made a jump into the Albany System a nine-hour trip, which was far better than jumping all the way from Septhia; it was unfortunately still far enough out that any rescue ops could take a day or more with the final insystem flights.

  General Mill rose and paced across his office, the myriad things that could go wrong flooding his mind. A small voice was telling him that Phoenix was a crazy op; that there had to be a better way to secure the Praesepe Cluster against the Nietzscheans.

  There probably was, but he couldn’t think of it at the moment.

  TRUST

  STELLAR DATE: 12.16.8948 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Warehouse on the northeast edge of Berlin

  REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Theban Alliance

  “Well that’s just great,” Barne said. “They send us a tin soldier and all her toys, but they forget the fucking ammo for her rifle!”

  “I can use the electron beam,” Rika suggested.

  “Maybe,” Jerry said. “But if they have magnetic deflectors, it won’t work. The kinetic power behind your rifle’s uranium rods is a lot more reliable for this sort of kill shot.”

  “Any chances we can get some rounds?” Leslie asked. “Maybe from some of the other teams?”

  “We don’t even know where the other teams are,” Barne said. “Fat chance of getting ammo from them—though it wouldn’t fit anyway. No one else has anything close to that caliber of weapon.”

  Jerry stroked his chin as his eyes flicked up—his Link tell. “I know a gal; she operates a site from Pyra these days.”

  Leslie raised her hands. “Whoa, Jerry. I know who you’re thinking of. We’re not going through Cheri—that bitch is nuts. Didn’t she try to kill you during the war?”

  Jerry shrugged. “Yeah, but she tried to kill everyone at least once. It was a sort of rite of passage for our ‘toon.”

  “No wonder we lost.” Rika shook her head. “What are the chances she has the right ammo for my girl?”

  Barne laughed. “Your girl already, is it?”

  Rika shrugged. “When your weapon is a part of you, you tend to get attached to it.”

  “No pun intended,” Leslie chuckled.

  “Focus, people,” Jerry said. “And yeah, she has some. Five rounds.”

  “What?!” Leslie yelled, then lowered her voice. “You reached out to her already?”

  “Yeah. I routed it carefully. Look, she’s a long way from here; it’s going to be off the locals’ radar. We jet up there, get the ammo, and then come back. One day. We have plenty of time.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Leslie replied. “I mean that we can’t trust her. Rika’s gun doesn’t shoot marshmallows. The reasons you need those rods are few, and there aren’t any legal ones on Pyra.”

  “She has a point,” Rika said. “I read the orders. We’re to have no contact with anyone outside of the mission parameters. Risk of exposure is too high.”

  “Corporal Rika, it’s my call. We’re going to meet with Cheri, get your ammo, and be back by morning.” Jerry said with finality.

  The reprimand stung, but Rika was pleased that he used her rank to keep her in line, rather than Discipline.

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Barne asked.

  “Leslie and I,” Jerry replied.

  “I should come, too,” Rika added. “I can make sure they’re the right spec.”

  “No,” Jerry said with a slow shake of his head. “You’re our ace in the hole. Besides, it’s a bit hard to get you on a cloud hopper or a maglev across the world. Your cloak is good, but I don’t want to test it against a hundred scanners and keen-eyed security guards.”

  Rika nodded silently. She knew he was right, but the thought of getting out and about was too enticing to not have tried.

  “Just going to leave me here with her all day?” Barne asked. “What if she goes nuts and kills me?”

  “She won’t; right, Rika?” Jerry asked. “Rika won’t harm any one of us. Correct?”

  Discipline tingled in the back of her mind. The compliance chip recognizing a direct order that required confirmation. It’s like he’s read the manual or something since last night, she thought.

  “No, Jerry, I won’t harm you three, or any other Marauder.” She hadn’t needed to add the last part, but she wanted them to be at ease.

  “See?” Jerry smiled. “Safe as houses.”

  “However, I’d like to scout the primary location,” Rika said.

  “Oh, yeah?” Barne asked. “Something wrong with our recon?”

  “There’s always something wrong with someone else’s recon,” Rika replied. “Plus, my eyes are better than any of yours. I see things you can’t.”

  Jerry gave her a long look before nodding. Barne snorted, and even Leslie looked surprised.

  “You’ll scout the site, and be back by night, right?” Jerry asked.

  “Understood,” Rika replied. “And ‘night’ is…?” The last thing she needed was an ambiguous order with a compliance chip in her head.

  “Uhhh, twenty-two hundred, local time,” Jerry replied.

  “Plenty of time,” Rika said. “Thanks.”

  Jerry and Leslie wasted no time dressing in their long, flowing robes, and they left the warehouse while Rika was still trying on different gloves, looking for ones with a good fit.

  “Think that gloves are gonna hide the fact that you only have three fingers on each hand?” Barne asked with a smirk.

  “They may cover themselves head to toe here, but they still have mods,” Rika replied. “Three fingers shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.”

  “Just make sure you keep your neck covered,” Barne said, pointing out that Rika’s armor encased her neck right up to her chin.

  Rika grabbed a shawl, wrapping it around her neck and over her head. “There, look good?” she asked.

  Barne walked around her and nodded. “Yeah. If I didn’t know better, I’d be fooled into thinking you’re human.”

  Asshole, Rika thought, though she only nodded in response.

  “Better get going. Long walk,” Barne commented.

  “Thirty five klicks round trip,” Rika replied as she slipped pads over the toes on her feet to cover her metallic footfalls. “I walk at just under four an hour; won’t even take nine hours to get there and back. I’ll still have time to smell the roses.”

  “You do that,” Barne said with a grunt. After a pause, he said, “Well, fuck off already. I could use some time alone.”

  Yeah, like forever, Rika wanted to say.

  She turned and walked to the warehouse’s north entrance; a different one than Jerry and Leslie had used. She reached up and set the alarm on the door to pause for thirty seconds, and then stepped through, out into the bright morning sun.

  She pulled her robe’s cowl up to shade her eyes, not wanting to use their filters to dim her vision. After spending months on Dekar station—which wasn’t brightly lit anywhere—feeling the warmth of Howe’s bright yellow light on her face was pure joy.

  It occurred to Rika that this was the first time the light of a yellow star had struck her skin since the day she was caught stealing food.

  Nine years between exposures to real sunlight. Nine years.

  She walked across the loading dock, then hopped down and crossed a stretch of dull grey pavement to reach the back road. According to the map she had pulled down, the road connected the warehouse to a larger street half a kilometer away, and saw little t
raffic.

  She had to admit she was impressed by the location Basilisk had chosen. The warehouse was one amongst several in a small cluster. None appeared to be in heavy use, but there was some traffic in and out that would serve to mask their arrivals and departures.

  It was also far enough away from the city center to avoid any heavy surveillance, but still close enough for an efficient strike.

  As Rika walked, she took in the local foliage, which was thick and lush—though she didn’t recognize most of it as anything other than types of ferns and palm trees. Maybe there would be coconuts; she had enjoyed climbing coconut trees in her youth, and getting a drink of that sweet milk within.

  Before long, the road she was walking alongside of reached the larger thoroughfare, and she turned left, heading west into the city.

  Ground cars flitted by, most hovering above the road on magnetic systems. Some a-grav cars moved through the air further above, though still staying above the roads. Rika took a deep breath, savoring the light scent of ozone and charged electrons.

  “Gotta love planets,” she said to herself with a smile.

  She strolled down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, enjoying being outside in the sunlight with no one around who wanted to hurt or kill her. She had a full charge—on new batts, too, thanks to the Marauders—and was in no hurry to return early and spend the evening with Barne.

  I think I’ll wait outside till twenty-two hundred on the nose.

  The feeling was exhilarating. She had food, charge, and nowhere to be for the better part of a day. The feeling was so foreign she barely recognized it.

  She wondered if it was possible to be relaxed and excited at the same time.

  Rika passed through the commercial area around the docks, and into a residential district. She smiled at other pedestrians as they passed—some walking alone, like her, and others in groups or with children.

  They all wore robes like her, though many had their heads exposed. From her research, Rika hadn’t seen any religious reason why everyone on Pyra wore robes out in the hot sun; it just seemed to be the fashion.