by C H Gideon
“Good to hear,” Blinky said enthusiastically. “I was starting to get a little nervous with all those guns floating around over our heads.”
“You? Nervous?” Lu deadpanned. “I would have never guessed it possible from a man whose nickname is ‘Blinky.’”
“All right, all right,” Xi said, hoping to forestall an escalation of what would normally be a healthy bit of posturing, “I want you two running full diagnostics on the rest of our systems. This cold is messing with everything, so let’s increase the cabin’s temperature by another three degrees and spill a little more heat off the reactor onto the sinks.”
“Yes, Captain,” acknowledged her crew as she opened the classified portion of the transmission.
Jemmin stealth systems are hiding half of their vehicles’ locations from our sensors. Stay alert and keep anti-missile systems hot.
She acknowledged the missive via P2P connection relayed by her Owl-class drones, which were the only aerial drones the battalion had that could fly in the thin atmosphere. She then confirmed that Holy Diver, her company’s most capable missile-interception mech, had relevant systems showing green.
Twenty-one hours later, Elvira’s cockpit filled with alarms warning of inbound missiles. A pair of Jemmin vehicles appeared on scanners fifteen kilometers from her current position.
“Incoming!” she snapped over the company-wide. “Holy Diver, lock onto those missiles and prepare to intercept.”
“Copy that, Elvira,” replied the railgun mech’s Jock. “Two LRMs inbound, Jemmin profile. Current trajectory…takes them thirty-one kilometers west of here,” he finished in confusion. “Time-to-optimal-intercept, eight seconds.”
She scowled as she raised Roy on the priority line. “Colonel, I have Jemmin missiles passing overhead with apparent target thirty-one kilometers west of this position. Permission to intercept?”
“Granted,” Jenkins immediately replied. “Take ‘em down.”
“Engage LRMs, Holy Diver,” Xi commanded, and a flash of light from Holy Diver’s quad of railguns followed a half-second later.
“LRMs scrubbed,” Holy Diver’s Jock reported confidently, silencing most of the alarms.
As Xi watched her tactical plotter, the two Jemmin vehicles vanished. She clenched her teeth in frustration before, a few seconds later, two more Jemmin icons appeared on the precise spot where those LRMs had been aimed.
Again, alarms flared to life, and Holy Diver reported, “LRMs detected. Apparent target…twenty-two kilometers east of base camp.”
Xi raised Colonel Jenkins. “Colonel, I’ve got two more LRMs in the air, apparent target twenty-two kilometers east of HQ. Permission to intercept?”
“Confirmed, you are clear to intercept,” the colonel acknowledged.
“Holy Diver, Elvira,” Xi called as the missiles reached the apex of their flight paths, “intercept airborne LRMs.”
“Roger. Engaging,” Holy Diver replied, and another brilliant flash of light preceded the missiles’ icons getting scrubbed from the tactical board. “Targets neutralized.”
Just as before, the pair of Jemmin vehicle contacts disappeared. And again, they were replaced by a pair of fresh signatures, these sixteen kilometers to the south. Except this time, no LRM signatures appeared overhead. Tense seconds ticked by until, suddenly and without warning, a signal appeared nineteen kilometers to the east at an altitude of seven kilometers.
She had not yet reacted before a flash of light exploded from precisely that location. A thunderous crack followed eight seconds later, and early reports indicated the device had unleashed a terrifying ten megatons of energy.
And they hadn’t even seen it in flight.
“What was that?” Sarah Samuels asked, appearing out of nowhere to stand at Xi’s side.
“Ever played ‘chicken’?” Xi grimaced.
Even the normally stone-faced reporter went pale at hearing that, but Xi was surprised to see her quickly regain her composure. “Have we done anything that could be construed as antagonizing?”
“You’re a victim-blamer? Really?” Xi quipped, drawing a withering look from the other woman. “Buckle up, buttercup.” She flashed a savage grin. “Because if I know my CO, things are about to get interesting.”
“What the fuck are they doing?” Jenkins growled.
“The last of the departing Jemmin warships passed through the gate ten minutes ago,” Styles observed.
“Which means they waited until they were gone to start playing games.” Jenkins shook his head grimly. He didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit. “Theories?” he asked the room.
“My guess,” Chaps offered, “is they want to paint a picture of plausible deniability.”
“Agreed.” Styles nodded. “They’d be happy if we packed up and left like the Vorr, but if we don’t, then I doubt it’ll be long before warning shots become the real thing.”
“Analyze every bit of sensor data the battalion collected prior to that nuke going off,” Jenkins ordered. “If you can’t find anything, we have to assume it was dropped from orbit rather than launched.”
He carefully didn’t add, “Because if it was launched, and we couldn’t see it even with an active link to the Bonhoeffer’s sensors, they could wipe us out at any moment.”
No point in worrying about things outside of your control, Lee, Jenkins silently reminded himself. Focus on what you can control.
Seconds ticked by, during which time he forwarded relevant sensor data to the Bonhoeffer via secure P2P. General Akinouye personally confirmed receipt of the information and replied that he was attempting to communicate with the Jemmin in orbit. The two sensor contacts to the south disappeared, and Jenkins suspected there would be no further demonstrations in the immediate future. They’d made their point: they had better tech and weren’t afraid to use it.
With the towering mountain to the north and all of the mines located there fully-reinforced against attack, Jenkins knew things on Shiva’s Wrath just got a whole lot more complicated than even he had expected.
“Establish roving patrols per aegis protocols,” Jenkins decided. “Each platoon is to be assigned a mech capable of missile interception, and we rotate the patrol routes at five-kilometer offsets to provide overlapping anti-missile cover of both HQ and the mines. Distribute intercept drones to each company as they return to HQ, and supply each mine outpost with one launcher and ten drones apiece.”
The orders went out, and the crews responded quickly. APCs bore the anti-missile systems and fresh troopers to the mines, and then returned to HQ bearing troopers whose mine shifts had ended.
Several hours passed, during which time he ran through a myriad of possible scenarios with Styles’ help. Tension heightened throughout the battalion, and Jenkins did his best to project an aura of calm as Roy took part in its assigned leg of the aegis patrol scheme.
“Missiles inbound,” Xi declared over the platoon-wide nearly six hours after the nuclear bomb had gone off. She spun Elvira’s missile launchers up, dropping the mech into firing position as she prepared to fire at the inbound projectiles. This batch of Jemmin missiles had an estimated impact less than six kilometers from her patrol’s current position.
Holy Diver had been assigned to 5th Platoon, while Elvira was in 4th. Both mechs were technically capable of missile intercept, though Holy Diver was the superior anti-missile platform.
Colonel Jenkins’ standing orders were to engage missiles that encroached on the Terran zone of control, or ZOC, which included a fifty-kilometer radius extending out from every Terran-controlled point of terrain. This latest pair of missiles originated from a point just inside that radius, near the Alpha Site mine, and were set to strike well within Terran-controlled territory.
She locked her rockets on the LRMs and fired, sending the quartet of interceptors streaking into the sky. Two rockets per target gave a greater than ninety-three percent chance of interception. While far from perfect, it was the best she could do with her current sy
stems.
The rockets screamed through the thin atmosphere toward their targets, bracketing them and sending their wreckage in a fan-shaped cloud toward the ground.
“Elvira reporting two LRMs neutralized.” Xi was surprised when she received nothing but static in reply. “I say again: Elvira reporting two LRMs neutralized.”
Again, no reply.
As she ran a virtual diagnostic on the mech’s comm systems, she keyed up the intercom. “Lu, check the comm system. I’m not getting a reply from HQ.”
“Everything checks out, Captain,” Lu reported promptly, confirming her virtual diagnostic’s findings.
She ground her teeth as she checked the local RF—radio frequency—bands, finding no apparent source of interference. The radio simply didn’t work, and no one knew why.
“Establishing P2P with the platoon,” she said, a rare note of anxiety creeping into her voice. “Cave Troll, do you copy?”
“Cave Troll here,” came the Jock’s deep, rich voice. “What’s going on with the RF?”
“No clue, Cave Troll.” She grimaced. “Gym Cricket, Heavy Metal Jesus, do you copy?”
“Copy, Elvira,” came Gym Cricket’s reply.
“Loud and clear, Captain,” replied Heavy Metal Jesus’ Jock. “But HMJ’s seeing some funky background on the high-band RF.”
“All right, stick to the P2P and maintain constant linkage,” she confirmed. “They’re broad-spectrum jamming us, but as long as P2P works, no one’s alone. You have your mission orders. Protect Delta at all costs.”
Suddenly, a pair of icons appeared on her tactical plotter just eight kilometers away.
“Contacts,” she snapped. “Two Jemmin Specters bearing two-six-eight, distance six-point-one kilometers.”
But just as soon as they appeared, they vanished only to be replaced by another pair of icons only three kilometers from her current position.
“Contacts,” Cave Troll growled, “bearing one-one-five, distance three-point-two kilometers.”
“Shit!” cried Gym Cricket. “My drive system just went offline!”
Xi felt her hackles rise. “Say again, Gym Cricket?”
“My drive system is in a self-protective restart cycle,” Gym Cricket replied after a brief, but potentially lethal, delay. “I won’t be mobile for another forty seconds.”
“4th Platoon, hold fast,” Xi ordered, her mind racing before she latched on to one particular thought. “4th Platoon, shut down all RF transceivers and physically unplug them. Now!”
Her own systems began to behave strangely, just enough that she noticed hiccups in Elvira’s responsiveness, but she was able to deactivate the mech’s RF transceivers while her Wrench and Monkey scrambled to manually disconnect the devices from her onboard systems.
“What’s going on?” she heard Samuels call from the rear of the cockpit. Xi heard no fear in the woman’s voice, which was a pleasant surprise, but the last thing she needed right then was a civilian reporter climbing up her ass with questions.
“Lock it down, Blondie,” Xi snapped. “We’re under attack.”
“General, my people are experiencing targeted systems interference in tandem with enemy weapons fire and encroachment on our zone of control,” Jenkins said, knowing that every word he now spoke would be recorded for later examination.
“Are you certain these are not merely malfunctions, Colonel Jenkins?” General Akinouye asked, his expression neutral as he leaned slightly toward the video pickup.
“One hundred percent, General,” Jenkins replied with total conviction. “Three of my mechs have reported catastrophic system failures as a result of targeted takeover attempts. These failures have occurred within minutes or seconds of Jemmin weapons fire. Under the Illumination League’s charter pertaining to the treatment of colonial organizations, even such colonies of questionable allegiance to their parent nations as some argue the case to be for our Terran Republic, the ILPF is prohibited from engaging in such acts of aggression.”
Akinouye’s visage darkened as he leaned closer. “You’re the commander on the ground, Colonel. What is your recommendation?”
“Recommend you contact the Jemmin in orbit and advise them to stand down,” Jenkins said firmly. “Also recommend you authorize 1st Battalion to engage targets behaving in a hostile manner, deadly force authorized, sir.”
General Akinouye’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about this, Commander?”
Jenkins nodded. “I am, General. We came here to do a job, and my people are being harassed with potentially lethal consequences while we are in the performance of our legally-sanctioned duties. We’re content to abide by League law in this matter if the Jemmin stand down, but if they refuse or fail to acknowledge our attempts at dialogue, then we’re ready to engage them.”
“Stand by, Colonel,” Akinouye commanded before his visage vanished from the screen.
Jenkins sat in relative silence for nearly six minutes, while the Roy’s crew went about their respective tasks. He could hardly believe what he was saying: was he ready to engage the most powerful space-faring civilization in the known galaxy, or was it all just bluster? He sincerely thought he meant it, but the moment of truth had not yet arrived. He could still back out, find some reason to withdraw and save face in the process as any sane person would likely do.
But Lee Jenkins hadn’t lived a life of making the safe decisions. The Jemmin were provoking him, probably in large part because they thought he would back down.
And nothing made Lee Jenkins madder than an enemy thinking they could intimidate him into submission.
“When have I ever given that impression…” he muttered under his breath.
General Akinouye’s face returned to the screen, and the longest-tenured member of the Terran Armed Forces seemed alight for the first time since Jenkins had met him.
“This is General Akinouye to all Terran forces on Shiva’s Wrath…” he began, his grim cast and hard tone making clear he understood the gravity of the situation. Then he spoke the five magic words that every warrior longed to hear from his commander. “You are cleared to engage. The Jemmin warship is refusing our hails. We can only interpret this as an act of open hostility and are therefore prepared to defend ourselves. I say again: all Terran Armor Corps forces on Shiva’s Wrath are cleared to engage Jemmin forces who take offensive actions against Terran Armor Corps assets. Good hunting, Colonel,” General Akinouye said with a curt nod. “Make us proud, son.”
The line went dead, and Colonel Lee Jenkins felt a thrill course down his spine. It wasn’t exuberance or joy that filled him, but the knowledge that he was about to stand up not just for himself, but for all of Terran humanity.
He transmitted over P2P to every mech and declared, “This is Colonel Jenkins relaying our orders from General Akinouye: we are cleared to engage the enemy. I say again: we are cleared to engage the enemy. The next provocative maneuver by Jemmin forces is to be met with lethal force. Acknowledge.”
The rapid stream of acknowledgments bolstered his resolve, and he swelled with pride at the lack of hesitation from his mostly-new mech crews. At that moment, they were united as only warriors under fire could be.
It was time to shoot back.
5
Illumination
“All right, people,” Xi declared over 4th Platoon’s P2P comm net, “weapons hot. The next non-Terran signature that appears within our ZOC gets cratered, and return fire is authorized on the point-of-origin for future missiles which encroach the ZOC.”
A flurry of acknowledgments streamed across her screen, and then they were left to wait.
…and wait.
And wait.
Forty-nine minutes passed as Xi’s people remained on high-alert. Without the neural linkage, Xi’s body might have begun to tremble. But the cybernetic implants helped to regulate the physical manifestations of heightened anxiety, and as a result, she knew she could remain in a combat-ready defensive stance for at least nine continuous hours before req
uiring relief.
And that relief could come in the form of sleep or, in emergencies, chemical stimulants.
“Stay focused, Xi,” she muttered, her senses awash with the neural link’s sensor feeds. Interpreting those streams in real-time was far from intuitive, but after a few months’ training and the combat experience, albeit limited, it felt like second nature. The outside cold assaulted the systems that she cycled in a sequence to keep them from freezing up. The inside temperature was steady.
The reporter poked her head out occasionally, but retreated under an enfilade of threats and cursing.
Xi could “smell” movement at the edge of Elvira’s optical sensor range, but to focus her attention on it, she needed to engage her visual cortex. She could “feel” seismic and atmospheric variations through the mech’s myriad of specialized sensors, but to focus on them, she needed to engage her auditory system.
Switching back and forth to process the constant stream of data was routine to even a rookie Jock, and much as she hated to admit it, Xi Bao had only seen active combat duty once. On Durgan’s Folly. And her neural link had been broken for the majority of her combat experience, so she was hardly a ten-year veteran mech Jock.
She “smelled” something behind her, and focused her visual cortex on the rocket trail of an inbound missile. “Mid-range missile inbound,” she reported while spooling up her anti-missile rockets and simultaneously re-orienting Elvira so her artillery could target the point-of-origin. “Engaging.”
Two rockets flew from their mounts, streaking up at a near-vertical angle before arcing toward the inbound weapons. A muted flash confirmed the offending missile was down. Just as that confirmation came in, she locked onto the missile’s estimated point-of-origin. Sixteen kilometers from Elvira, it was at the very edge of her ability to accurately engage.
