Niki seemed rather perplexed that Rika had simply let those questions go unanswered for so long.
Niki paused, seeming unsure of herself.
Niki demanded.
Rika reached up and interlaced her fingers behind her head.
Niki mused,
A giggle that a younger woman might have let out, had they not lived Rika’s life, slipped past the SMI-4’s lips.
Rika sucked in a surprised breath, her heavily lidded eyes snapping wide open.
The AI gave a rueful laugh.
Rika nodded mutely as a host of questions flooded her mind, then she latched onto one, asking it aloud.
“Why me, Niki?”
“Sure, I get that. But why did you pair with me?”
Rika thought of all the people she’d killed over the years, many of whose faces she could still see if she cared to.
“I don’t know about that. Honest, sure…. The other two are questionable.”
Rika barked a laugh, enjoying the joy that came from deep inside herself. “Are you going to throw your venerable years at me whenever I disagree now?”
“Probably not. You forgot one thing in your list: I’m a bit stubborn as well.”
THE END
RIKA CONQUEROR
RIKA’S MARAUDERS – BOOK 7
FOREWORD
Back when I wrote my first few books, I did dedications in them and named my wife and daughter, as they’re the real reason I do most things. But for some reason, I stopped, and I’m not sure why.
I suspect that it felt both cheesy and pretentious to have a dedication in each book, and I didn’t want to start making things up just to fill a spot on the page.
That being said, I suppose that forewords (in the books that contain them) function in much the same way, though sometimes it’s a dedication to an idea or a mote of inspiration rather than a person.
And while all of my books, and my labor in general, is made with my wife and daughter (Jill and Eva) in mind, I want to take the time to dedicate this book to someone else, someone who is a huge part of the Aeon 14 universe: Jen McDonnell.
Jen first started editing Aeon 14 books in the summer of 2017, and the first tale she laid eyes on was Rika Mechanized. Jen made an immediate connection to Rika, and though she developed a strong connection to many of the other Aeon 14 characters, it’s safe to say that Rika is Jen’s favorite.
Though Jen hates spoilers, and I do my best not to send any her way, she has a large influence on the direction the Rika books take, and the final words on the page that come your way. Not only has Jen come up with the titles for all of the Rika books (barring two, I think), she’s named a vast swath of characters and added a bit of her own flair here and there in the editing process.
Normally, having an editor take a lot of creative license with a story isn’t ideal, as it can muddy the author’s ‘voice’, but in the case of Rika, Jen really gets her, and it is exceptionally rare that I don’t take her suggestions when it comes to this story.
This is the final book in the Rika’s Marauders series (don’t worry, it’s not the final Rika series by any stretch), and I think it’s fitting to give Jen credit for all the hard work she’s put into making sure that the Rika you read is the best possible version of our favorite mech that we can bring to you.
There’s definitely a little bit of Jen in Rika, and I’d like to think that there’s a bit of Rika in all of us. A woman with an unwavering spirit and a heart of gold.
A lot like Jen.
A note on reading order:
I know that some folks are reading the Rika books independently of the Orion War series with the intention of going back to the Orion War.
If that’s the case, I should warn you that this novel references events in three Orion War books: War on a Thousand Fronts, Precipice of Darkness, and Airthan Ascendancy. Some of those references could be considered to be spoilers.
For readers who are not reading the Orion War series, the “Previously” section below gives you the context needed to understand where Rika’s efforts are currently fitting in with the overall war effort.
M. D. Cooper
Danvers, 2019
Prominent Members of the Marauders
Though there is a full list of all the mechs, pilots, and members of the Marauders at the end of the book, this is a listing of some of the more prominent characters and their current role in the battalion.
9th Marauder Battalion Leadership
Rika – Colonel, battalion commanding officer
Silva – Lieutenant Colonel, executive officer
Barne – Sergeant Major, command sergeant
Leslie – Captain, intelligence officer
Niki – AI, Lieutenant, operations officer
M Company Leadership & Key Personnel
Chase – Captain, company commanding officer
Karen – Lieutenant, company executive officer
Potter – AI, Chief of Tactics and Strategy
Chris – Lieutenant, First Platoon Leader
Alison – Sergeant, First Platoon Squad One Leader
The Seventh Fleet, First Division
Heather (Smalls) – Captain of the Fury Lance
Travis – Captain of the Republic
Ferris – Lieutenant, commander of the Undaunted
Vargo Klen – Lieutenant, commander of the Asora
Ashley – CWO, bridge crew aboard the Asora
Buggsie – Lieutenant, commander of the Capital
ORDERS
STELLAR DATE: 11.05.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Chamber of Lights, Valhalla
REGION: Capitol, Pruzia System, Nietzschean Empire
Two months prior to the Marauders’ assault on Iberia…
Emperor Constantine regarded the man standing before him with barely contained disgust. There was something different about General Garza this time, something that was out of alignment compared to his prior visit.
Constantine couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but the Orion Guard general seemed…twitchy.
“It was clever to use the old Epsilon facility to build your fleet,” Garza said after the two men had stared at each other in total silence for several minutes.
Constantine glanced at Admiral Hammond, who was the only other person in attendance, and nodded for the man to speak.
Hammond stepped forward and cleared his throat. “We weren’t getting resources fast enough from other sites, but Epsilon and the facilities on its six moons had suffic—”
“They’re gone now,” Garza interrupted.
“The facilities?” Constantine’s brow furrowed, hating the game the odious general was playing with him.
“The moons.”
“The moons,” Constantine repeated. It wasn’t quite a question. The emperor wasn’t going to supplicate himself before Garza, seeking answers, but not knowing
was already causing a tight knot to form in his chest.
The man from Orion nodded as he turned to pace across the emperor’s private audience room, a space only fifty meters across at the top of Valhalla’s spire. Above, the brilliant lights of the Praesepe Cluster shone through the clear dome over their heads. He strode to the edge of the chamber, stopping on the sheet of transparent gold that ringed the space, and looked down on the world of Capitol.
Garza ambled toward Constantine, an expression on his face that was half anger, half smug satisfaction. “The moons of Epsilon are gone. Well, almost. Epsilon won’t last long, either.”
“Enough, Garza. How?” Constantine demanded, turning to glare at the general.
He knew there was only one way the moons and brown dwarf star could be destroyed so quickly: the black holes in the moons. What he wanted were the specifics.
“When you killed General Mill of the Marauders, you paved the way for a union that has not been beneficial to Nietzschea. From what my sources can discern, Admiral Tanis Richards met one of those mechs the Genevians made, a woman named Rika. With support from New Canaan, she’s cutting a swath through Old Genevia.”
“Fuck.” Constantine spat the word as he turned back to the perimeter of the room. “Those damn Genevians. I should have just razed their worlds when we defeated them.”
“Probably,” Garza replied. “And now the force you were building to hit Septhia is gone, and you only have nine months to meet my deadline to crush that nation. How do you plan to proceed?”
The feeling of being called to the floor in front of his father came over Constantine—a feeling he very firmly recalled hating. Rather than respond himself, he glanced at Admiral Hammond.
The admiral took the hint. “My Emperor, General Garza. Once we received word that the fleet sent to the Albany System was lost, we stepped up our manufacturing in the old Genevian home system. We have nearly fifty thousand ships there, though only half are combat ready at present. But in six months, they all will be, and we’ll be prepared to take them through the jump gates and into Septhia. Per your instructions, General Garza, the Septhians will fall before the year is out.”
Constantine’s skin crawled to hear the head of his military speak so deferentially to Garza. He wondered if it was an affectation or if his own people were beginning to treat the Orion general as their master.
“I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t simply trust in the efficacy of your work there,” Garza said as he turned his gaze up to watch a destroyer slowly circle above Valhalla.
“We believe that with strike forces of—” Admiral Hammond began.
“Fifty thousand ships is a force that Septhia can’t hope to stand against,” Constantine interrupted.
“You thought that when you sent seventy thousand ships to Albany.” Garza didn’t turn away from the window as he replied.
“We intend to follow your plan—hit them in dozens of systems at once,” Constantine countered. “You argued that if we don’t mass, there is no way that the ISF and its allies can protect Septhia.”
Garza shook his head, finally turning to look at Constantine. “Except that Tanis Richards has sent this Rika into Old Genevia with the same purpose in mind: to distract and disrupt. She’s clearly angling toward the Genevian home system itself.”
“Let her come,” Constantine growled in response. “Unless she’s bringing the I2 along with her, there’s no way she’ll prevail.”
“Would you have said that same thing about your shipyards at Epsilon?”
The emperor pursed his lips and didn’t respond, though he sent a pregnant look toward the admiral, hoping the man could say something that would appease Garza.
The man didn’t disappoint. “With my emperor’s permission, I will travel to Genevia myself to ensure that we’re ready for the mission. From Genevia, I’ll be better prepared to respond to the situation as it unfolds.”
“A man of action,” Garza said, inclining his head in gratitude. “I think you should go as well, Emperor Constantine. It would do your people good to see their leader out on the front lines.”
“I—” Constantine began, but Garza cut him off.
“Don’t forget about our meeting in your garden,” the Orion general whispered, “when I displayed how far beneath Orion you are. Something you know intimately. I’m not requesting that you go to Genevia.”
Constantine understood the general’s meaning. He was being given an order he dared not refuse—but perhaps it was a situation he could turn to his advantage.
“Admiral Hammond. Prepare my ship.”
HAL’S HELL
STELLAR DATE: 02.05.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Dekar Station, Merchant Docking Ring
REGION: Parsons System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Five weeks after the Marauders’ assault on Iberia…
“You ready?” Chase glanced at Staff Sergeant Tex, receiving the RR-4’s calm nod in response. “OK, then. Here goes nothing.”
Tex gave a short laugh. “Or a whole lot of something.”
Chase would have laughed as well, except that they were deep in Nietzschean-held territory, docking at a station where he was well-known.
Potter said in a soothing tone.
Chase replied, unable to resist a glance down at his torso, still adjusting to the fact that there was an AI nestled somewhere next to his digestive system…what was left of it.
Though he still marveled at the change, Chase had no regrets over becoming a mech. He quite enjoyed being an FR-4. But sometimes the knowledge that he’d volunteered to be turned into a half-machine weapon of destruction made him wonder if he was just a bit crazy.
Having Potter in his gut only served to drive home how strange his life had become.
All because of the incredible SMI-2 I met on this very dock. Chase drew a deep breath.
The AI didn’t reply, and Chase stepped out of the airlock into the all-too-familiar organized chaos of Hal’s Hell.
Hal’s docking bay on Dekar’s merchant berthing ring was every captain’s dream, and every dockhand’s worst nightmare. Hal ran his domain with an efficiency that bordered on maniacal. His crews could load a ship in half the time it took any other on Dekar.
‘Nothing lost and nothing late.’ That was Hal’s motto, and he made sure everyone knew it.
His efficiency was rewarded with gifts from captains and shipping companies. Gifts that rarely made their way down to the stevedores doing the actual work.
Though he admired the man, Chase couldn’t stand Hal. A part of him suspected that most of his dislike was based on how the dockmaster had always treated Rika. The resounding cry of ‘Tin Head!’ still echoed in Chase’s mind, and the thought of it brought about the same anger it once had.
Drawing a deep breath, Chase palmed the airlock control and tugged at the long coat he wore to hide his mechanized body. Hal’s Hell had security systems that could see through such a simple disguise, but with the help of the ISF’s stealth tech, Chase would appear to be a normal human.
When the pinnace’s outer door opened, Chase was treated to a view of Hal himself ambling toward the ramp leading up to the ship.
The man was unchanged, a stocky hundred and seventy centimeters with a glower that was permanently etched onto his pale face.
“OK, Captain Pallas. You pulled strings with Port Authority to get in my bay, so what is it you want?” the man asked while planting his fists on his hips.
Potter said.
“I want the sort of thing that we should chat about in your office,” Chase replied as he walked down the ramp, Tex following after.
Hal said over the Link.
Chase shook his head as he stopped a meter from the dock
master.
Hal grunted in annoyance, his gaze sliding over Chase to Tex’s looming figure. The RR-4, unlike Chase, wasn’t wearing a cloak to disguise his nature—though he wore his ‘normal’ limbs and only light armor. Even so, there was no hiding that Tex was two hundred and seventy centimeters of dire threat.
Chase took a step toward Hal, leaning down to whisper in the man’s ear. “I’m going to offer you a chance to see your next meal. How’s that for starters?”
“You can’t threaten—” Hal began to bluster, but then his face paled. “My Link—it’s offline.”
Chase pulled his lips back in a feral grin. “Other things are going to go offline very soon. Permanently. Your office. Now.”
Hal ducked his head—something Chase had seen him do only rarely, when especially well-connected captains had addressed him—and led the way to his office.
The designation of ‘office’ was a bit of an overstatement. It was really a five-by-ten storage closet that Hal had claimed for his own. It was, however, clean, and had room for a small holodesk and two chairs.
Chase settled into one while Tex closed the door and stood in front of it.
“Aren’t you going to sit?” Chase asked Hal, who was standing next to his desk. “It’s your office, after all.”
Hal glanced at Tex’s near three-meter-tall figure and then dropped into his seat, a modicum of control coming back over his features.
“How did you do that, Pallas?” he asked in a near-demanding tone. “My Link. You didn’t even touch me.”
“Well, for starters, I’m not Pallas.” Chase disabled the simple—for ISF tech, at least—holomask that had subtly altered his features. “Recognize me?”
Hal’s brows dropped and his lips twisted into a sneer. “Well, well, if it isn’t Chase. You’ve come up in the world. OK, so how’d you kill my Link? This some prank you got the operations to play on me?”
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