by M. D. Cooper
Rika respected that, and changed the subject.
Barne fielded the answer.
Those words echoed in Rika’s mind as the bunker’s wide door swung open. A Nietzschean invasion. She didn’t know much about the Theban space force’s strength, but she didn’t see how a five-system alliance could field anything powerful enough to withstand an assault from the Nietzschean Empire.
The orders Rika received were simple: regroup with Basilisk and sync up with Alpha Company under Captain Ayer.
Rika had just one issue with that.
She wasn’t a Marauder. She never signed up for this shit.
But her thoughts turned to Barne and Leslie. They were her team; even though she had failed in her duties, failed to take out President Ariana, they had shown no displeasure in her inaction.
Perhaps they didn’t need to know exactly what had occurred—maybe a half-truth would have to be enough.
Rika glanced at President Ariana. She knew that there could be a place for her in Thebes—despite the lives she had taken—but Team Basilisk needed her. Barne and Leslie were just squishies. There was no way they could survive a Nietzschean invasion without mech support.
“FREEZE! Drop your weapons!” A voice yelled as the door swung open far enough for Rika to see an AM-2 mech on the other side.
“Lower your weapons,” President Ariana called out. “I’ve issued a provisional pardon for Rika, here. She is not to be placed under arrest or to be restricted in any other way.”
Rika relaxed a hair. Despite all of the president’s assurances, there was a part of her that had worried it was a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security.
Of course she was still in arm’s reach of Ariana. Things could change once they were separated.
“Ma’am,” a man said as he pushed past several presidential guards in powered armor. “You cannot do this. She killed at least half a dozen people on her rampage.”
Ariana turned her head toward Rika. “Sergey. I understand that, but she thought what she was doing was necessary. Rika stood down of her own accord. She may be a killer, but she is not a murderer. And on that basis, I have issued my pardon.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” Sergey replied, gripping his hands together.
“Sergey,” Ariana said with a tired smile. “We have a war to fight. Rika is a warrior, and she is now fighting on our side. I’ll take all the help we can get.”
“Yeah, but on our side for how long?” one of the nearby soldiers muttered.
“Fucking mercs,” said another.
Ariana did not acknowledge the utterances, but instead walked toward the lift. “Rika, you may ride up with me. John, you’re on the first ride up, too. You need to see a medic yesterday.”
“A bit late for that,” John said as he followed after the president.
Rika slipped between the soldiers, feeling dozens of eyes on her, waiting for a bullet or a blow. But none came, and she reached the lift unmolested.
She noted that the bodies had been removed but the bloodstains remained. She wondered if the two unarmored guards had been part of the kill count or not. She thought she had been careful not to harm them—too much.
“Rika,” President Ariana began as two other guards entered, and the lift began to rise. “I may not see you in the days to come; fate may pull us apart. I regret what your government did to you, and what lot has been left for you in life. I know it’s not the same, but I have been called a monster in the past as well…” Ariana paused and met Rika’s eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it was your humanity that saved me down there.”
Ariana touched Rika’s hand, gripping it like she would any flesh and blood hand, and squeezed gently. Their eyes met.
“I forgive you, Rika.”
Rika felt a surge of emotion rise up in her, and tears sprang from the corners of her eyes. She nodded rapidly knowing that her voice would betray the wellspring of emotion within her.
Ariana continued to hold her hand as the lift rose and the doors opened. The guards in their powered armor exited first then turned and waited for the president. Ariana smiled at Rika and exited the lift.
Just as Rika whispered, “Thank you.”
That was the last Rika ever saw of President Ariana. She was killed two days later when an orbital strike from a Nietzschean cruiser destroyed all of Berlin, including the capitol and the presidential palace.
MARAUDER
STELLAR DATE: 12.22.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Northern Districts of Jersey City
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Theban Alliance
“Move! Move! Move!” Rika screamed at the platoon under her care as they clambered over the debris of a fallen building on the outskirts of Jersey City.
A sniper was out there firing on them, and Rika had to take it out before they lost any more Marauders.
Barne said and passed the coordinates to Rika. She leveled her GNR and fired, trusting in Barne’s analysis.
A dozen projectile rounds flew into a building three blocks away, and she changed positions, waiting for return fire. When none came, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Rika turned and surveyed the city around her, which was shrouded in long shadows as Howe set in the west. She shook her head, saddened by the current state of what had been a beautiful city, full of life just six days ago when she and Barne had passed through.
In the four days since the aborted assassination of the Theban leadership, all hell had broken loose.
The Nietzschean armada had not been far behind the Marauders’ fleet, jumping in with over ten thousand capital ships all bearing down on Pyra. Their intent was to take out the Theban capital world in one swift strike.
One small benefit of the Theban response to the Marauders’ arrival was that their ships were already mustered and in motion by the time the Niets appeared on Scan. This gave the Thebans enough of an edge that they were able to stave off a full bombardment of their world. However, it wasn’t enough to stop several Nietzschean strafing runs on the planet that took out cities and dropped multiple ground assault teams.
It was textbook Nietzschean strategy: blitzkrieg a world. If they were unable to take it quickly, destroy and occupy large population centers. Dislodging their troops always resulted in heavy civilian casualties.
Rika was leading one such dislodging action at that very moment.
Leslie and Barne were with her, as well.
Technically a lieutenant named Clancy was in command of the platoon; somehow though, over the last day, everyone had begun to defer to Rika as they worked their way ever deeper into the ruins of Jersey City.
Rika clambered up a beam rising out of the rubble and watched the nearby buildings for signs of the enemy as the platoon spread out in the street below.
She spotted movement four blocks down and cycled her vision, confirming the presence of Nietzschean soldiers.
Rika called back to the Marauders’ surface-to-surface artillery teams, ten kilometers behind them. she said.
Less than a minute later, two grey streaks fell straight down from the sky, lobbed high into the air before they dove into their marks.
The street
and the part of the building where the Niets were hiding in the shadows exploded in twin balls of fire. As the haze cleared, Rika called her thanks back to the artillery platform while also letting Lieutenant Clancy know that she didn’t read any more hostiles from her vantage.
Below her the platoon split up, its four squads each taking a different street toward the center of Jersey City.
She moved down the street being traversed by fourth squad—second from the right flank—and slipped past the soldiers.
Several of the Marauders nodded to her as she moved by. Some shook their heads, but most ignored her. Seeing their attitudes—not to mention their armor—brought a lot of old memories back.
Most of the armor and equipment in the Marauders was Genevian. Unfortunately so were the troops, and that meant many of the soldiers thought of her as nothing more than a tool.
Rika thanked her stars that Captain Ayer hadn’t felt that way when attaching Rika to fourth platoon.
* * * * *
Two days prior…
“Basilisk,” Captain Ayer had shaken her head slowly as the team entered the company’s HQ—set up in the back offices of a water-storage and pumping plant. “You’re some tough sons and daughters o’ bitches. I’m sorry about Jerry; he was one of the best.”
As she had spoken the captain rose from her desk, and the other two people in the room—a man and woman—had also turned their attention to Basilisk, their eyes solemn as they looked on.
Ayer walked around the desk and approached Leslie, clasping both of her hands. “I’m so sorry, Leslie. I truly am. I’m here if you need to talk.”
Leslie nodded silently before taking a deep breath and wiping an eye.
Ayer then turned to Rika and shook her hand without hesitation. A gesture that spoke volumes about her opinion of mechs.
“Rika, I’m happy to finally meet you, but it saddens me that it’s under these circumstances.”
“Thank you, Captain Ayer,” Rika replied.
Lastly, Ayer turned to Barne and clasped his hand. “Sergeant Barne, I see you survived your first mission with Rika. I’m glad to see the two of you are unscathed.”
“Captain Ayer, of course I am. I’ve got Rika at my back. She’s Basilisk.”
Ayer glanced at the coiled snake carefully painted on Rika’s chest. “So she is. I’m surprised that you feel that way.”
“No reason not to, ma’am,” Barne said, his tone crisp and unequivocal.
“Glad to hear it,” Ayer replied.
“Rika, I’d like you to meet First Sergeant Meg, and Gunnery Sergeant Stewart.”
“Nice to meet you, Rika,” Gunnery Sergeant Stewart said with a smile, while First Sergeant Meg only nodded and said, “Rika.”
“Glad you were able to make it up here to meet us,” Ayer continued once the formalities were over.
“Was a slog up the coast,” Barne said. “But we heard this was where they were dropping the beer, ma’am.”
“No beer yet, Sergeant, but I do have some gifts for Rika and some real armor for the two of you.”
Rika wondered what those gifts could be, but didn’t voice her question as Ayer continued.
“The Niets may have done a drive-by on Berlin and toasted it something fierce, but Marauder ships aren’t commanded by pusillanimous cowards like the GAF was, and it would seem the Thebans aren’t either. For now they’ve managed to push the Nietzschean ships back from Pyra, and are engaging them near Fresna.”
“Good news is that we don’t have to worry about Niet birds in our skies. Bad news is that they dropped over a hundred-thousand of their dickhead commandos down here, and we’ll have to clear them out the old-fashioned way.”
“Do we have any orbital support?” Barne asked.
Ayer nodded. “We’ve got the Brisbane in orbit and an artillery platform set up a few klicks to the north. It’s a bit of a Niet magnet, so first platoon is keeping it safe until the Brisbane gets the shield generator down here. The Thebies have a few ships up there, too. They’ve taken what shots they can, but now the Niets have a lot of civvies rounded up, and the Thebans don’t want to blow away their own people.”
“So it’s time to send in the mercs,” Leslie said.
“You need to sit this one out, Corporal?” Captain Ayer asked, a sharp edge entering her voice. “I feel for you, and I feel your pain, too, but you signed up for this gig. Last I checked, so did Jerry.”
Leslie swallowed and glanced at Barne and then Rika. “No, ma’am. I go where Basilisk goes.”
“Glad to hear it,” Ayer said with a curt nod. “We’re going to send you out with Lieutenant Clancy and fourth platoon. However, I first need to square away some housekeeping.”
Ayer turned to Rika as she spoke, and Rika wondered what could be coming next.
“Back in the war, a mech saved my life. Another mech saved an entire platoon under me. I watched mechs do the war’s hardest work with the least thanks. You never got medals, ribbons, or promotions; that’s not how the Marauders operate. I have authorization from General Mill to give you a field promotion to Second Lieutenant.”
Rika felt a surge of mixed emotions, but shook her head.
“No, ma’am. No disrespect to you, but I cannot accept that promotion.”
Ayer’s face clouded. “Why not, Rika?”
“Because I’m a slave, and slaves can’t be officers.”
“Shit, Rika, didn’t you get the message? It should be in your queue on the Marauders’ general—aw, fuck.” Ayer sighed and gave Rika a wink. “We try to be more efficient than the Genevian Armed Forces were, but it’s not always easy. You never got tokens to access the general net, did you?”
“No, ma’am,” Rika shook her head.
“We’ll square that away once we’re done here, but let me be the first to inform you that you are not a slave. There was a data packet that got left out when you were sent to Pyra—it was a bit of a rush job, not our best work. You were only to have to work off half the cost that it took to buy you at that disgusting auction. However, when the Old Man learned about how you saved your team when you could have disappeared, he decided that you had gone above and beyond the call of duty—especially for someone who thought they were a slave.
“You’re free and clear, Rika. You owe the Marauders nothing, and when we’re done here, I’ll have the company’s technician remove that compliance chip and get proper enlistment paperwork drawn up for you.”
Barne let out a whoop of joy while Leslie reached out and grabbed Rika’s arm. “Rika,” she said with a smile.
Rika couldn’t find the words, but she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She drew herself up and wordlessly saluted Captain Ayer.
She had finally been set free. There was no hesitation in her mind now. She was a Marauder.
Captain Ayer smiled and returned the salute. “Now, Lieutenant Rika. I assume that you’ll properly enlist?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rika said the words with a calm certainty.
“Excellent. The gifts, by the way, are right-mount GNR and a new left arm. Now let’s get Clancy in here and go over how we’re going to kill all these fucking Niets.”
* * * * *
On the front…
Rika had worried that Clancy would have an issue with another officer attached to his platoon. As it turned out, he was a first lieutenant, and the pecking order was clear—for the most part. Though he was in charge, Rika had a lot more experience in the field, and he was to take her advice.
Barne had them all beat for time in the service—even more than Clancy’s platoon sergea
nt—but that just meant he’d make sure the officers didn’t screw things up too much.
The plan had been straightforward: move south into the city, secure the manufacturing district on its north side, and then cross the canal into the downtown area and flush the Niets out.
Except there’d been a lot more Niets on the north side of the canal than anyone had expected. Second and third platoons were still further back, but Captain Ayer had instructed fourth platoon to push forward and secure the north side of the canal—which was now only four kilometers distant.
As Rika slipped past squad four’s lead fireteam and down E street, she scanned each building for heat signatures and movement while also monitoring feeds from the platoon’s drones.
The drone had picked up a shadow moving at the head of a nearby alley. Rika unslung her JE78, ready for close quarters combat. She pulled a drone’s feed from high overhead but was unable to see into the alley with the refuse and overhangs from the buildings on either side.
She considered sending a drone into the alley but didn’t want to give away her intentions. Rika glanced at the twelve-meter-high building and crouched before springing up over the protruding roof, landing as quietly as possible, and then dashing across the to the next street and dropping down at the other end of the alley.
Rika crept down the alley’s narrow confines, staying in the deepening shadows and searching for whomever or whatever she had seen. She progressed five meters into the alley and then stopped, pressing herself against the northern side, as a dull scraping sound reached her ears.
Nothing showed up in her enhanced vision, and she was considering sweeping the darkness with an active scan when a shape darted out from between two large metal bins.
