Rikas Marauders

by M. D. Cooper

  “This sounds like our conversation from earlier, Niki.”

 

  Silence hung in the air for a moment before David said, “We three are peas in a pod. Each of us the product of humanity’s desire to evolve. Mentally and physically, even to creating a new species. The pure organics, they don’t understand us, and we spend no small effort convincing them that we’re not a threat.”

  Niki replied.

  David’s finger tapping resumed once more. “Is that what you are, Niki? Are you and the AIs you’ve sided with a threat and a danger?”

  Niki didn’t reply right away, and Rika began to wonder if her AI was hiding some ill intent from her.

  Finally, Niki spoke up.

  Her words hung in the air for a minute before David laughed. “I believe I know what you mean, Niki. I’ll help. I can set up meetings with some Iapetan lawyers and get things moving.”

  Rika wondered exactly what Niki had meant. I’ll have to dig into it later.

  For now, she was glad to have this small victory.

  RECONCILIATION

  STELLAR DATE: 08.10.8949 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: Marauder Training Compound

  REGION: Iapetus, Hercules System, Septhian Alliance

  Rika settled into her office chair and drew a deep breath. Best to get it over with sooner than later. If Kelly wasn’t fit to be a Marauder, finding out now was better than in combat—again.

  She organized the stack of holofilm on the desk, ensuring they were all deactivated, and then took a sip from her cup of coffee.

  The knock came on her door a moment later, and Rika called out for Kelly to enter as she set the cup down and squared her shoulders.

  The door opened, and Kelly walked in. Her posture was rigid, body gleaming in SMI-2 armor, her gun-arm attached with a barrel-less GNR in place.

  From the neck down, it was hard to find dissimilarities between herself and Kelly. Two peas in a pod—that’s what Silva had always called them, a memory brought up by David’s use of the term. Back then, Kelly had always been getting into trouble, and Rika had to pull her out of it.

  Granted, Kelly’s trouble saved the day half the time, so it was nearly always worth it.

  “Good morning, priv—Kelly,” Rika said.

  “Captain.” Kelly sketched a salute and stood at attention before Rika’s desk.

  “At ease, Kelly.” Rika gestured to the chair. “Please, sit. Stars, I suck at this stuff. I hate formality. I know how to do it up the chain, but down is different.”

  Kelly sat and shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, Captain.”

  “Enough with the ‘captain’ shit, Kelly. We’ve hauled each other’s asses out of the fire too much for that—at least don’t call me that in private.”

  Kelly regarded Rika with an unblinking gaze. “I’m still that Kelly, but you’re different, Rika. A lot different.”

  Rika let out a slow breath. “A lot’s happened. It’s been a long time for me.”

  “I heard a bit about it. Chase told me about what happened on Dekar.”

  “Yeah, Dekar was a shit-show. I don’t want word about that to spread, though. Please keep it to yourself.”

  Kelly snorted. “What? That the Marauders bought you? That this outfit that you seem to have fallen for put a chip in your head?”

  “They took the chip out. The people who auctioned me off were the ones who put the chip back in. That the chip stayed in for my first deployment was an accident, but one that I’m kinda glad about.”

  “What?” Kelly cocked her head. “How can you be glad that you got chipped?”

  Rika leaned back in her chair and grinned. “Because I beat Discipline.”

  “What do you mean, ‘beat’?”

  “I won’t lie, it was excruciating, but this bitch named Cheri was using it on me to get me to kill Barne. I wouldn’t do it, and she couldn’t make me—no matter how much it hurt. In the end, I snapped her neck.”

  Kelly let out a low whistle. “You killed the person who was applying Discipline…. That’s…nuts.”

  “Yeah, important sidenote: it doesn’t stop the discipline, either.”

  “Shit, how did you get it to stop?” Kelly asked with wide eyes.

  “Basilisk’s old leader, Lieutenant Jerry, shut it off.”

  “Old?”

  “Yeah, he didn’t make it through the mission.”

  Kelly’s lips formed an ‘O’ shape, and she nodded wordlessly. “But Discipline is still there, right?”

  “Discipline? No, I can’t be Disciplined anymore.”

  “Right, that’s not what I meant. The chip is just the control system for the neural lace around our brain stems. That’s what actually does the work. Even without the chips, we still have that neural lace in our heads. You don’t actually need the chip to activate it.”

  Rika was not well-versed in the specifics, she was a bit surprised that Kelly understood them so well. “Is that true, Niki?”

 

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “So Rika can’t be chipped anymore?”

  Niki gave a soft laugh over the Link.

  “Huh…I guess it is,” Rika mused. “I kinda forgot about it.”

  “How could you forget something like that?”

  Rika saw that Kelly’s face had taken on a look of pure horror, and shrugged. “It can’t hurt me, and I trust Niki with my life, just as she trusts me with hers. I guess we should get it removed, though. It may be useful in the future for someone to think they’ve chipped me.”

  Kelly shook her head in amazement. “Rika, you are hardcore. Have I ever told you that?”

  “Really?” Rika laughed. “When Cheri was beating my brain to mush, all I could think of were those times when you tested Discipline’s limits, tried to see how much you could get away with before the serious pain kicked in. I distinctly remember thinking, ‘Would Kelly have let this take her down? Hell no!’”

  “You think more of me than I deserve, Rika.”

  Rika rose from her chair and walked around her desk to stand before Kelly. “I don’t. Back in Team Hammerfall, Silva was like our mom, but you were my big sister. You always kept me safe—I…I was the one who let you down.”

  Kelly rose and stood before Rika.

  Their faces weren’t so different; Kelly had a bit of a stronger chin, and her hair had a reddish tint, but after Kelly had recovered her face, Rika had been surprised to see how similar their eyes were.

  Kelly reached up and touched Rika’s face. “I always did think of you as my bratty kid sis, Rika. But you were always the heart of Hammerfall, our moral compass—so much as we were able to have one, with Gunny in our brains all the time.”

  “Good ol’ Gunny,” Rika mused. “Got what he deserved.”

  “Nuclear payback,” Kelly grinned.

  “We good, Kelly? I know I gave you the ‘big, stern talk’ back on the field, but the last thing I want is for you to leave the Marauders. Finding you and Silva, and then losing you both again…that would be hard.”

  Kelly nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, Rika. I feel the same way about you, even if getting your bars has made you into a bit of an asshat.”

  “Takes one to know one.” Rika paused, not sure what to say next, then threw caution to the wind and embraced her friend. Kelly wrapped an arm around Rika as well, and they stood silently for a minute before Rika stepped back.

  “I’ll talk to Lieutenant Carson about what we can do for the neural laces.”

  “Carson? Not sure if I want someone with ‘Bondo’ for a nickname rummaging around inside my head.” Kelly
’s lips twisted to the side, and Rika couldn’t help but laugh.

  “He’s really good. He did your face, and it looks great.”

  “Rika, brains and faces are two very different deals. Could Niki do it? She neutralized yours, and you seem fine.” Kelly winked and gave Rika a light punch in the arm. “Mostly.”

 

  “Couldn’t you just pop out of her for a bit?” Kelly asked.

 

  “Umm…thanks?” Rika said.

 

  “And get your chip removed,” Kelly added. “It’s creepy knowing it’s in your head.”

  Rika smiled. “You got it, Sis.”

  DROPPING

  STELLAR DATE: 08.10.8949 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: Golden Lark

  REGION: Iapetus, Hercules System, Septhian Alliance

  First Platoon’s bays looked like the mechs were planning an invasion.

  Leslie stood at the entrance to Drop Bay 4 and surveyed her platoon as they hauled gear into the dropships, moved other equipment to the cargo shuttles, and generally did their best to avoid running into one another, the dockworkers, and the pilots.

  It was glorious chaos.

  So far as she knew, the Genevian Armed Forces had never fielded an all-mech platoon, which meant there had never been a scene like this before. Well, space and time were both huge…so maybe there had been. But this was still a first of sorts.

  Seeing the comradery that was blooming between the mechs as they made ready for their first mock-combat drop was inspiring. It almost made her want to be one.

  Leslie’s tail—inside its armored sheath—waved gently in the air behind her as she nodded to a trio of RR-2s that rushed past, hauling crates filled with charging stations.

  The last one reached out to tap the tip of Leslie’s tail.

  At first, the tradition had bothered her, but she’d grown accustomed to it. Crunch had started it—which was the case for a lot of traditions that were forming in her platoon, and in M Company at large.

  He told her he did it to remind everyone in the ‘toon that their LT was a mech, too—not a GAF standard model, but her body was better because of the mods added to it, just like theirs were.

  As the only non-mech officer in M Company, Leslie fought an uphill battle when it came to gaining the acceptance of the troops. That one gesture from Crunch had changed the entire company’s view of her.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to figure out what his name is. However, it did mean that so long as she served under Rika in M Company, the tail would stay.

  Chris, the platoon’s Staff Sergeant, ambled toward her with a grin on his face. He was a long-time Marauder, promoted from squad to staff sergeant when Rika’s company was formed.

  “Feels good, don’t it, LT?” he asked as he turned and stood beside her. “Combat drop. All mechs.”

  “Mock-combat, Staff,” Leslie corrected him.

  The AM-2 shrugged, his chitinous armor making a soft skittering sound as he completed the gesture. “Still momentous. May it be the first of many, mock or otherwise. I can’t wait for the day we drop a ‘toon of mechs on the Niets. The look on their faces will be priceless.”

  “Right before we blow them to pieces.” Leslie savored the thought, as well. This feeling, this excitement in the air, had never been present back in the war. Granted, she’d joined the Genevian Armed Forces after things started going badly. Maybe there had been a more positive attitude at the outset.

  Chris chuckled. “The looks on their faces will be just as priceless after we blow them to pieces.”

  “So, how’s everything looking, Staff?” Leslie said, shaking her head. “Any hang-ups?”

  “Oh, you know; someone always forgets to pack their favorite toothbrush, and has to run back to get it. Someone else tries to bring their special rock collection.”

  “The usual, then.”

  “The usual.”

  Chris cocked his head toward the bow of the Golden Lark. “I hear that the major is going to send down a fighter escort with us. Twelve birds?”

  “He hadn’t committed to a number last I heard. I think it comes down to whether or not the Perseid’s Dream sends some, too. He’s looking at it as an opportunity for a training exercise. The locals haven’t been super accommodating, but now that one of our birds got shot out of the sky, they can’t push back as much.”

  “Yeah, I imagine someone in Septhian High Command got a bit peeved that we’ve been cockblocked so much here,” Chris made a fist with one hand and smacked it into the palm of his other, miming his euphemism.

  Leslie snorted a laugh and shrugged. “You know how it is. The brass brings in mercs to help bolster the numbers, the regulars resent it and make trouble. Usually when the shit starts flying, no one cares where a merc’s paycheck comes from. So long as they’re shooting at the same people as you.”

  “Funny sidenote,” Chris added. “Ultimately, a merc’s paycheck comes from the same place as a regular’s: the people they’re protecting.”

  Leslie raised a hand and wobbled it side to side. “Ehhh, mercs do their fair share of oppressing, too. That’s not something the Old Man signs up for—generally speaking—but sometimes we put holes in people to help an individual or a company. Shit like that gives us a bad rep, though.”

  Chris nodded slowly. “OK, good point. Good thing there’s enough Niets to shoot at for a lifetime.”

  Leslie agreed in principle, but she also knew that the Niets ran a conscription military. They’d be shooting at a lot of people who didn’t want to be there in the first place.

  Still, it was ‘us or them’. Same as it had always been; same as it always would be.

  “Looking good, Lieutenant,” a voice said from behind them, and Leslie turned and nodded to Lieutenant Scarcliff, the company’s XO.

  The FR-2 swept his ever-present scowl across the drop bay as he stood beside Chris. “Wish I was going down with you, but Captain Rika wants me up here to make sure things go smoothly in her absence.”

  “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Scarcliff,” Leslie replied.

  She had an uneasy relationship with the company XO.

  Both had been promoted directly from the ranks to First Lieutenant at the same time, and it irked Leslie a bit not to have the XO’s job, since she had five years of service on him. Just like she knew it annoyed Scarcliff that she had Rika’s ear as much as she did.

  Rika had taken the time to explain to them that she felt either could do the other’s job well, and their placement was for the good of the company.

  “What we’re doing here with M Company isn’t about anyone’s career advancement,” Rika had told them.

  “It’s about giving these people a new start with a new outfit that really values them. To that end, we have to make things feel right for our troops. Building a cohesive unit is my goal. Everyone is going to have to make sacrifices to do that, but I won’t forget them.”

  At times like that, it was almost impossible to reconcile the Rika who was now the company captain with that scared and angry young woman Leslie had pulled out of the cryopod less than a year before in that warehouse on Pyra.

  Rika claimed that it was Silva’s leadership back in the war that had taught her what she needed to know. Silva had claimed it was years of keeping young waitresses in line that taught her how to run a unit.

  Leslie wasn’t sure if that was all that lay behind Rika’s natural command abilities. Though she had kept any concerns to herself at the time, Leslie had worried about the Old Man’s promotion of Rika to company comma
nder. Running a team like Basilisk bore almost no similarities to running something like M Company.

  But now that they were four months in, she doubted that anyone could do a better job than Rika. Give the girl fertile soil, and she had blossomed like nothing Leslie had ever seen.

  She hadn’t replied to Scarcliff’s statement, and he cast her a curious look. “Cat got your tongue, Leslie?”

  Chris barked a laugh, then managed to choke it back before slapping Leslie’s tail and walking out into the bay, yelling at the platoon’s K1R—a massive T-model affectionately called ‘The Van’—to watch where he was going.

  Leslie shook her head, and gave Scarcliff a cold look. His eyes widened for a moment, and then she reached up and gave him a light cuff in the back of the head. “Very punny, Scarcliff. Seriously, though, what do you think of Rika’s plan?”

  “By ‘plan’, you mean the thing where you take First Platoon down and act like bait?” Scarcliff asked.

  “Dangling bait is a perfectly viable plan.” Leslie cocked an eyebrow at Scarcliff. “So long as our backup is ready.”

  “It’ll be ready. Whoever is raising shit down there will rue the day they messed with Rika’s Marauders.”

  “We’re really going with that?”

  “Damn skippy.”

  “You don’t think that it will cause division between our company and the rest of the regiment?”

  “I’ve been in the Marauders as long as you, Leslie. Every unit has to form their own internal bonds. Most of them have their own little names, like Terry’s Terrors and Sarah’s Scarfaces. Smalls and I put a lot of thought into including ‘Marauders’ in ours. I think it will be better in the long run.”

  Leslie hadn’t known that Scarcliff and Heather had orchestrated the company name so deliberately, but she had to admit it made sense. She’d be sure to share that logic with the ship’s crew, if it came up.

  “Well said. I certainly like being in Rika’s Marauders more than Ayer’s Assholes.”