He yawned before standing and walking into the back where the production processes took place. The stocking shelves were empty, but an automated tracking robot held two cloaks and one helmet. He took them, leaving the bot empty-handed and waiting for one last item—Dokken’s helmet.
“Here you go, Aunt Cory. Make sure it all fits, but at this point, there’s not much we can do if it doesn’t.”
Cory, as she always did, took care of Dokken before herself. She draped the cloak over his back. It didn’t have a strap under his belly to hold it in place. His tail brushed it back and forth until it hung askew.
“We need a modification,” Cory told her nephew, but Kai had balanced his face on his hand and was out cold while hunched over his desk. “It looks like it’s up to you and me to remedy the situation.”
Cory started to leave, but Dokken stopped her. Have you tried on yours yet?
“I’m sure it’ll fit.”
It’ll take ten seconds, and I’ll feel so much better, Dokken said. His telepathic voice suggesting he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Cory balanced her helmet on the dog’s back, which made him stand still. She threw the cloak around her shoulders and clasped it at her neck. “This will be all the fashion after people see it!” she quipped. The helmet rested lightly on her head, wedged against her protruding wolf ears but still allowed for clear vision both front and peripheral. She activated the HUD, but the helmet wasn’t linked with any collection systems and gave her a null information screen.
“It works. Any exposed flesh?” she asked.
Dokken walked around her before nodding his approval. It will protect you, he said before adding, I shudder to think what my helmet will look like.
“It’ll be the height of fashion!” she declared. “Let’s fix that miscue with a strap. All we have is duct tape.”
No! You are not duct-taping me. Dokken pranced in agitation.
“I’m not going to tape you, just your cloak. At least let me show you what I’m thinking.” She bent down, but Dokken bolted into the hangar bay. His cloak slipped farther sideways until he tripped over it and face-planted across the non-skid decking. He stood gingerly, his face bleeding from where his lip had gotten cut.
Cory grabbed his dog face, and her nanos started to glow blue beneath her hands.
Save that for the injured warriors! He tried to pull away, but she held him tightly.
“I will do as I please, mister. You’re injured and you’re a warrior, so stand still.” She continued to hold him while the blue glowed faintly beneath her fingers. “I’ll be there when they need me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Band Rayal Seven, Okkoto
Terry charged the closest bot, wrapping it in his arms and picking it up. The thing hammered on his back until he dumped it into the other. He drove his legs, ignoring the pain in his chest and arms from the brief but multiple laser burns.
With one final heave, Terry forced the two bots over. He scrambled to pull the laser pistol from one while standing on the metal wrist of the other. The bots were tangled together, but Terry couldn’t free the pistol from the metal monster’s grip. He twisted and pulled, to no avail.
He looked frantically around for anything he could use as a weapon, finally settling on his own Ka-bar. He pulled with his off-hand and jammed it into a seam in the top security bot’s chest. The one beneath continued to flail harmlessly as long as Terry stood on its wrist.
Starting to lose his balance, he pulled the knife and let his weight fall on it as he jammed it into a neck seam. He forced his weight onto the pommel and bounced while working the knife back and forth. The bot sparked, and a bolt of lightning shot from it. Terry was lifted into the air and came down in a heap beside the bots.
He grunted through the pain. He saw his knife still wedged in the thing’s neck, the leather-wrapped handle smoking slightly. Terry got to his knees just in time for the dead bot to get thrown into his face, and he batted it aside. Had he been standing, it probably would have knocked him down.
Terry lunged forward, grabbing the dropped laser pistol as he hit the remaining security bot just below its mechanical waist. He kept pushing until they ran into the wall, then shoved the laser pistol against the metal of the thing’s torso and fired. He kept the trigger down until the beam burst with a splatter of molten metal from the mechanical shoulder. Terry stopped and fell back from the new burns on his face.
He blinked his good eye and fired again into the bot’s chest, but it was already starting to topple. Terry stepped back and the second dead bot fell at his feet. “Son of a mother-fuck,” Terry complained. His nanos were already hard at work repairing the horrendous injuries he’d sustained. Terry limped to the first bot he’d killed and yanked his Ka-bar from it, stuffing it back into its sheath.
Terry collected the second laser pistol, wishing his nanos would heal his eyeball since he could only see out of the one. It was messing with his depth perception.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Tonie said softly. “So violent, but invigorating!”
“Invigorating,” Terry mumbled. “I forgot to tell you that we want the boring route to the chow hall, not the exciting one.”
“That shouldn’t have happened. You’re with me, and you’re wearing my wristband.”
“Didn’t you recode your wristband?”
“Oh. I’m sorry about that. Finding a dead body in my shower was more than I could take. You made me angry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Terry took off the tainted wristband and threw it onto the dead robot.
“Can you teach me how to fight?” Tonie said, walking into the room and going through the motions of recreating the fight—Terry’s charge, using one bot as a shield, killing it, and then focusing on the final one. “Fight one opponent at a time. So much smarter than you look.”
“Divide and conquer, bitch,” Terry told him. “Come on, the clock is winding down.”
“Next stop, elevator control.” Tonie offered his shoulder and Terry wrapped an appreciative arm over it. Together they lumbered into the corridor and off to their next target.
The War Axe
Christina trooped the line, reviewing the formation for uniformity and attention to detail. The six drop ships stood with doors open on both sides of the hangar bay. The Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch stood at attention in the middle. Forty-six warriors stood with their cloaks tight around their bodies and helmets shining, the mirrored front screens giving nothing away of each warrior’s face.
Four armored warriors stood at the corners of the formation. The mechanized platoon. Mechs on parade. Christina slapped the heavy front armor of Kelly’s rig as she walked by.
“And the broke-dicks,” she said to the four-legged warriors. K’Thrall’s helmet was grossly oversized to encompass his mandibles. Bundin’s helmet was comically elongated to cover a fair part of his stalk-like head. Slikira looked normal except for the oversized boat cloak. She made the shield on her helmet transparent so Christina could see her smile.
“Show me,” Christina ordered.
They pulled their cloaks aside to reveal the weapons beneath. Between the lot of them, they had two anti-armor rocket launchers with eight total reloads, four heavy railguns, and two mortars.
“Mortars?” Christina wondered.
“In case an enemy is hiding behind bleachers or somewhere direct weapons can’t fire. We’ll have to have an observer, but the mechs have mini-drones they can launch for target acquisition. We’ll be fine. If we have to fire them, we’ll do it without causing collateral damage,” Bundin explained.
“I like the way you think, Corporal. Carry on,” she told him. Christina headed back into the formation, unable to tell one warrior from the next. She returned to the front of the formation, where she removed her own helmet.
“Weapons,” she said in a normal voice. The warriors popped their railguns off their shoulders, twisted the butts, and snapped them down to smack into their lef
t hands.
As one. A single pop and snap reverberated through the hangar bay. Joseph and Petricia stood in the back of the formation, nodding approvingly at the precision. Christina was pleased with the professional facade the Bad Company had built.
But it wasn’t a facade. It was discipline and execution of orders. One team in harmony.
“Scatter!” she yelled, and the precision continued. They broke into smaller groups and raced in all directions, bringing their weapons to bear on imaginary targets while others hurried to grab imaginary VIPs and shield them with their bodies as they moved them to the Pods. Aaron and Yanmei clapped from where they stood in their flight suits by their Black Eagle space fighters.
“Recover!” Christina ordered, and those who had secured heavy weapons from the four-legged warriors returned them before falling back into formation. “At ease.”
Kimber had been in formation with the others. She removed her helmet and joined the colonel out front.
“Ready as we’re going to be,” Kimber whispered.
Christina nodded and held her hands up to silence the warriors. “When I give the command to fall out, you’ll board your assigned drop ship and prepare to depart for the planet’s surface. When we arrive on the parade deck, you’ll immediately form up in marching order. The mechs and our four-legged warriors are our heavy artillery, the king of battle.
“We’ll march until either I or Major Kimber gives the word. At that point, we will secure the dignitaries and move them securely to the drop ships, where we will immediately dust off, returning to the War Axe when all hands are accounted for. Do not get left behind, and small unit leaders, do not leave your people behind.
“We have no idea what the triggering event will be, if any. If there is nothing, we finish the parade, march back to the drop ships, and get the hell out of Dodge. I heard that Colonel Walton had secured some libations for the post-operation party. We will have a total blowout when we return, assuming we don’t lose anyone, and that will be a more somber affair. But I don’t want somber, people! I want a real fucking party with too-loud music, raucous dancing, and a little drinking. To the warrior who gets himself fucked up down on the planet and harshes my party buzz, you are going to be in deep shit. The deepest of shits.
“So don’t. As much as your smiling faces make me want to puke, I want to see all of you right back here, ripping off your cloaks and helmets and heading for a shower and hot chow. Anything else will be unacceptable. Don’t fuck this up! Fall out!”
The warriors jogged in an orderly manner to the six drop ships. The mechs squeezed in first because if they froze, they’d block everyone from getting out. That was the hard lesson they had learned on Tissikinnon Four. It seemed that all of their procedures were based on experience written in blood. Kimber clapped Christina on the back.
“Long live the Bad Company.”
Christina gave Kimber the Spock Hand. “Glory to the warriors.”
Joseph and Petricia strolled close on their way to their designated shuttle. “Ready or not, here we come. I don’t know what to hope for,” Joseph admitted. “I think this would be a great test of the warriors’ mettle, but I don’t want to see anyone get hurt for a cause that’s just stupid.”
“We seem to excel in getting hired by the deranged.” Christina gave a half-shrug and wished them well.
“They have the most money?” Joseph called over his shoulder as he and Petricia broke into a run, jumping on the ramp as it started to close and boarding last.
Cory jogged by with Dokken by her side. The dog’s helmet’s face shield was set to transparent instead of the default mirror, and he turned his head and made a face.
“Did you stick your tongue out at me, Private?” Christina called after him. Cory laughed until she boarded.
“At least morale is good,” Christina mumbled. “Terry Henry and his damn leadership thing. I used to be the one sticking my tongue out. Now they’re doing it to me. When did I get old?”
“Never,” Kai said from the doorway leading to the maintenance bay. He’d heard her, but then he was modified by the nanos and had ultra-sensitive hearing. “I can’t wait to party with you when you get home.”
Home. The big gray suck. Who would have thought that? But it is my home now.
When the six Pods were loaded and the ramps secured, Christina contacted the War Axe. “Smedley, all hands on deck?”
“All hands are accounted for.”
“Launch the drop ships.”
Micky started issuing orders to his warship. “Take us into the upper atmosphere, maximum acceleration. Skip once and launch the Pods.”
The War Axe nosed over and dove toward the planet, pulling up with the first buffeting. Six drop ships launched from the lateral tubes simultaneously and began their descent in a two by three formation. As the heavy destroyer climbed toward a higher orbit, two Black Eagles raced out the open hangar bay door, turned, and fell in behind the Pods carrying the entirety of the Bad Company’s Direct Action Branch.
Christina was in the number-one Pod, planned to be the first to touch down. Kimber was in the last Pod to land. That was the plan, anyway.
The War Axe’s AI had subroutines running on all the drop ships. Smedley was flying the Pods while they were in contact, and his essence would continue the mission if they lost the continuous comm link.
Christina studied the main screen and watched a cloud of ships lift off from the surface and rise toward the Bad Company. Christina tapped the control panel. “Black Eagles, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“I expect you’re talking about the incoming ships. We’ll check them out,” Yanmei replied. She was the better pilot of the two weretigers. Aaron was too tall and had a difficult time in the cockpit. He was getting better with practice, but Yanmei was a natural and had been a pilot for a long, long time.
The sleek fighters accelerated past the six drop ships and continued burning toward the lower atmosphere where a light aircraft waited.
“Weapons tight,” Christina ordered. “Fire only if fired upon.”
“Roger,” the fighter pilots confirmed. They cycled through their passive targeting systems, satisfied that they could respond almost as fast as if they were in a weapons-hot status.
Sonic cracks followed them down as they started to spiral to foil enemy targeting systems. When they gained sight of the target, they relaxed.
“Your welcoming committee is ready for your arrival,” Yanmei reported. “Every news station and reporter is airborne and waiting for your ships to pass.”
“Keep your eyes on them in case there’s a lurker in there with some anti-aircraft missiles, although looking at the images you’re sending, I don’t see anything heavy enough to challenge us.”
Yanmei and Aaron throttled back to make a much slower pass. Still, they were traveling at ten times the speed of the light aircraft. Barely more than drones, their purpose was to capture video from on high. The Black Eagles raced by, turned and made a second pass through the area to chase away those who had infringed on the drop ships’ flight path.
Aaron laughed softly over the comm link as the light aircraft panicked, bolting in random directions and creating more strife as every plane fought to keep from colliding with its airborne fellows.
Christina tapped the controls to open the ship-to-ship system. “Listen up, people. We are already under scrutiny. We start earning our money right now. Smedley, tighten up this formation. I want geometric perfection on the descent. When we hit the deck, I want every warrior to storm off the Pod wearing your war face and carrying your railguns as if ready for a battle. Then transition into formation. Lock your bodies at the position of attention and prepare to march. Let the intimidation begin. We are already earning Flayse credits, so let’s put on a good show, right up to the point that we take charge.”
The warriors on board the shuttles shouted hearty “oorahs” and settled in for the rest of the descent. Christina’s anxiety started to rise, creating a lu
mp in her throat. She’d just bet the entire Bad Company on their ability to flex to the unknown. The number of variables seemed to grow as the ground approached. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another.
“Thirty seconds to debarkation,” Smedley noted.
Christina opened her eyes and stood up. She looked from face to face. Fierce. Warriors. Ready for action.
The drop ship touched down without a sound and the ramp descended.
“GO!” Christina started the exodus, running to her position on the parade ground. She scanned the bleachers on both sides, looking to fill in her gaps in knowledge. A mech pounded past her, and the audience gasped.
She found it oddly calming. Smedley, start scanning faces. I need to know who’s here and who’s not right fucking now.
The AI was already collecting and collating data from the Pods’ external sensors, but he added the stream of information coming from the mechs.
Entering the parade ground as if they were conducting an attack had sent the Flayse handlers running for cover. The area was clear of interlopers or innocent bystanders, whichever they were. The mechs held them at bay.
It seemed like forever before the Bad Company was in formation and still. In reality, it had taken less than a minute for all six drop ships to disgorge their passengers and dust off, hovering where they could be quickly recalled without being in immediate danger from an attack.
The Bad Company stood alone in the kill zone—afraid, yet their courage, honor, and commitment kept them from showing it. Their professionalism as warriors had each running through emergency combat actions in their minds. They were ready to act while the trepidation of waiting for an attack weighed on their souls.
Black Eagles, make your pass, Christina ordered.
The two space fighters screamed into the zone, before coming to a near-stop over the parade field. They crossed in front of the stands at a snail’s pace before standing on their tails and rocketing into the sky. More oohs and aahs from the crowd. Christina kept her eyes on the Magnate. She was able to pick him out of the crowd.
Discovery Page 15
