by Mark Wandrey
Each Cavalier equipped with a MAC fired along a corridor toward the enemy. There wasn’t as much overlap this time and almost all the weapons hit, with varying degrees of effectiveness. Jim had noted the previous laser shots were nearly ineffective, except against the difficult to target wings. This time he saw the same.
“Switch to ballistics only!” he ordered. “Any trooper without ballistic weapons, hold for hand-to-hand.” Weapons were magnetically secured and blades snapped into place.
It was Corporal Nick Sharps, while stowing his weapon, who spotted the new threat. “Heavy weapons!” he called an instant before a medium MAC round exploded through his cockpit, pulverizing his entire upper torso. Jim didn’t see him take the hit, but the First Squad corporal’s icon went red all the same.
“Damn it,” he said. Jim was one of only two troopers with both energy and ballistic weapons. He pivoted the MAC down over his shoulder, setting the crosshairs on one of the two huge wasps with its own MAC, and blew it to hell. The tungsten carbide-hardened hypersonic projectile punched through its head and out its rear in a spectacular fountain of gore. Buddha hit the second one just as it fired.
The round caught Jim’s CASPer in the upper left, spinning him around from the inertia of the hit. He threw himself forward, feeling a dizzying lag in the suit’s response, but managed to take a knee.
“Cartwright’s Actual,” he called, “I’m hit, but not hurt.” He shut the mic down and spoke, “Splunk, I’ve got motive damage.”
“Splunk fix
“Well, how do you think I feel about it?” he asked, a little peeved. Outside his troopers were blazing away at the advancing KzSha troopers. They’d dropped five of the aliens, including the two Buddha and he had killed. The rest grounded and raced at them in an erratic zigzag pattern.
“K-bombs,” Buddha yelled a half second before Jim could give the same order. Unfortunately, his arm gave a stuttering jolt when he reached toward his own bombs, and he only managed to dig a handful of dirt from the ground next to him.
“Oh, Adayn is going to be pissed,” he moaned. She spent more time repairing his suits than any other trooper in the outfit. And this one had been brand new. Still, he was better off than poor Sharps. His command and control computer seemed fine, so he watched as the men fought. Another suit went from green to yellow. It didn’t flash, so the trooper wasn’t seriously injured, at least. A line of explosions threw great gouts of dirt into the air and brought the KzSha to a stop, just as Second Squad got into position.
“All set,” Second Squad Sergeant Jesus “Lamb” Ortega called out.
“Open fire,” Jim ordered, then on the open squadnet. “Clean them up!”
First Squad fired straight ahead, and Second Squad from 90 degrees off, putting the remaining KzSha in a lethal crossfire. Able to shoot at an oblique angle, the lasers of Second Squad were more effective. Only one alien trooper closed to melee range, and a pair of Cavaliers cleaved it down.
“Clear!” rang out up and down the line, and Jim heaved a sigh of relief. Private Paula “Vorpal” Handley, the platoon medic from Second Squad, bounded over and checked on Corporal Sharps, confirming he was KIA. The other trooper had sustained a hit to his power supply. Repairable, but not quickly. There was a snap, a chirping curse, and Jim’s suit function lights mostly turned green.
“All fixed,
“Thanks, Splunk,” he said and stood carefully. The suit showed no after-effects from the damage. He noted his secondary radio was now offline and suspected his little companion had turned it into spare parts. “2nd Platoon, report!” he called.
“We got them cut off from the transport,” Hargrave said over the radio. Jim could hear the whine and thump of weapons fire. “They’re dug in pretty deep and have a bunch of the Aku as hostages. What do you want us to do?”
Jim checked the man down with a damaged suit. In normal conditions, he’d have had Splunk go fix the suit. Soo-Aku, though, was far too bright for her sensitive biology, and the radiation was horrendous. After confirming the trooper’s life support was still working, he called the Bucephalus and ordered Phoenix Dropship #2, which held only an evac and support team, down on their position.
“Pick up one disabled trooper and one KIA,” he told the drop ship pilot, “then hold on station for possible close air support and reinforcements.”
“Acknowledged,” the pilot said. “Dropping in one minute.” Jim changed to the squadnet and addressed the disabled trooper.
“You going to be okay, Private Biggs?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry to leave you down another.”
“Don’t be; it happens. Keep your survival gear in hand; it can save your life. Trust me, I know.” Most of the Cavaliers had heard the story of Jim’s month in the wilderness of Kash-kah, having been all but given up for dead, only to come walking out under his own power with Splunk as his new friend.
“I fix,
“Not this time,” Jim said, “it’s too radioactive outside. Besides, we have another date.”
* * *
The ship’s heavy lasers fired so close to Koto the blazing UV temporarily blinded him. It was playing hell with their communications as well. However, as best as he could tell, they’d yet to hit anything except foliage.
As he’d thought when he saw the meteoric trails in the sky, it was the damned Humans. As mercs went, they were physically weak—easy to kill if caught unaware—and particularly tasty. The problem was they liked powered armor. They liked it a lot. So much so they’d developed their own. Very few races bothered with powered armor; it was too expensive. Lives were cheap.
The Human’s attempts had been laughable at first, little better than modified industrial exoskeletons. Now a century later, they were turning out quality suits. A Human did a short, jet-assisted jump and shot the trooper next to Koto dead with a shoulder-mounted MAC. The projectile almost perfectly split his soldier’s head in two and completely missed the Aku he’d been carrying. The Human fell out of view before anyone could aim at it. This latest iteration of the entropy-cursed armor was really good. Someone should complain to the guild; it was an unfair advantage.
Koto looked behind him. It was still 100 meters to the ship, which had its landing ramp down, openly inviting their escape. He’d lost a ship and some soldiers, but they could be replaced. Oso’s idea of breeding the Aku was a good one. Koto would feast on one of the creatures and toast to Oso’s memory. The idea would serve as his memorial. Koto hadn’t seen Oso since a Human laser cut his wings off, and they were forced to leave him behind.
Fifty meters—they were almost there. The ship’s lasers ceased firing as Koto and his surviving team approached. He turned from laying down covering fire and prepared to make the final dash to the ship. Once inside, they could negotiate a withdrawal. He’d heard many of the Humans were gullible and would parley if innocents were in the crossfire. When he turned to fly into the ship, he saw a Human standing on the ramp, a huge MAC weapon pointed at him. Entropy. Koto pulled the weakly struggling Aku higher, so it was between the Human and most of his vital organs.
“You will lower your weapons, or we will kill these creatures.” He made sure his antennae were aimed at the armored suit. He knew they would have a translator which could pick up his speech, even though the Humans used sound waves to communicate while his species used light pulses. As he’d thought, a moment later the Human suit was using a light bar on its cockpit to flash back at him in a language he could understand.
“You’re done here,” it said. “We have your ship, and your base on the moon was destroyed an hour ago.” Koto ground his mouthparts together, his mind working desperately to find a way out.
“Passage off this entropy-cursed world in exchange for these creatures, then.” He was past considering how to profit; now he was just trying to
survive. The Human didn’t reply, and for a moment Koto thought it was going to work. Then an Oogar walked past the armored suit and to the bottom of the boarding ramp. It was the height of the armored Human, despite not wearing powered armor, although it did have on an environmental suit. Koto could see its purple muzzle and tiny black eyes through the faceplate. He started to aim a weapon at the huge ursine when he saw the blue tree logo of the Peacemakers Guild emblazoned on its armored chest. Koto felt his blood begin to settle in his thorax.
“You have been accused of slavery with the intent to commit genocide by servitude against the Aku, a non-union race of the planet Soo-Aku,” the Oogar Peacemaker’s suit flashed at him from a translator. “I judge this charge correct, and my pronouncement is death.” All the other KzSha sat down on their abdomens. A few lowered their weapons and/or released their hostages, while others clung to them in desperation. “Any who surrender and aid in our investigation will gain consideration. Decide.”
Koto’s compound eyes could see his troopers were no longer prepared to fight. He started to raise his laser, and it all happened in an instant.
The Oogar Enforcer moved far faster than a being his size should have been capable of, raising and firing a ballistic hand weapon the size of a small artillery piece. The entire left side of Koto’s helmet was blown to pieces, along with the head inside it. He slumped to the side, dropping his laser and the Aku he’d been holding. At the same instant, 30 Cartwright’s Cavaliers fired, killing every remaining KzSha.
* * *
“Check the hostages!” Jim called out while loping in from the perimeter, and the medics from both platoons fell out to round up the dazed Aku. A minute later, he got the news. Nineteen of the twenty-two hostages were unhurt and two were injured; one was dead. The 100 already in the slavers’ ship were being released. The Peacemaker walked among the dead KzSha, checking for any survivors. He shook his head from side to side.
“I asked for survivors,” Poltova growled at Jim who’d joined him.
“We discussed this, and you agreed the hostages were more important.”
Poltova turned his purple head inside the helmet to regard the armored war machine standing next to him. After a moment, he nodded his assent. “You are correct, Commander Cartwright. The Science Guild estimates no more than four hundred Aku left on the planet. It may already be below viable population, even with these. If they’d joined the Union, they might have bought some protection with the wealth this world offers.”
“They just wanted to be left alone,” Jim said.
The Peacemaker snorted. “Now they will have the peace of the grave.”
“Commander,” Buddha said, bounding into the clearing.
“Report, Top,” Jim said.
“Partlow and Stodden were sweeping the perimeter, and they found something for you.” Jim was about to ask what it was when the two scouts in their Mk 8 suits bounded into view. They were supporting a KzSha between them. When they landed, it was apparent the alien was much the worse for wear, but obviously alive. They’d hosed it down with secure-foam, an instant-hardening substance used on many multi-limbed aliens in lieu of the Human’s own ubiquitous handcuffs or zipper cuffs. They tossed the alien trooper at the Peacemaker’s feet, where it landed with a crash and rolled over. Its wings were gone, along with several limbs.
“A present for you, Peacemaker,” Partlow said, and gave the Oogar a thumbs up. The gesture was lost on the alien as he examined his prize.
“Well done,” Poltova said, turning to Jim. “Per the contract, you will get the 10% bonus.” In his suit, Jim grinned. Then he had a thought.
“Hargrave?” The CASPer which had been standing on the loading ramp turned to him.
“Boss?”
“What’s the condition of the ship?”
“Smells like bugs.”
“Yeah, no shit. I mean will it fly?”
“Oh, sure. It’s worth a couple million; I already logged it as fortunes of war.” Jim thought for a second, looking down at the KzSha, and gave it a little kick. “Hey, what’s your name?” he asked.
“I am called Oso,” it flashed. “Why haven’t you killed me?”
“Because we’re not savages,” Jim said. The bug regarded him with its huge multifaceted eyes. “Do you want to go on living?”
“Of course,” it said.
“Good,” Jim said. He grabbed it by a leg and started dragging it toward the ship. The alien’s antenna flashed bright and the translator rendered it as screams of pain. Good.
“That is my prisoner,” the Peacemaker said.
“We haven’t formally handed it over yet,” Jim said. “There was a 200% special bonus contingency on the contract, was there not?”
“Of course, but considering the situation, I see little chance of your collecting it.”
Jim shrugged. “As my father used to say, there’s always a chance.” He dragged the KzSha up the ramp, careful not to pull its leg off. “Let’s see how helpful Oso can be. Are you feeling like being helpful today?”
“Yes.” Somehow, the alien made his flashing lights look mournful.
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Several hours later Jim stood by his CASPer, stretching and drinking a cool sports drink. He hurt in all the wrong places, but he was also smiling the smile he got when things went right. Corporal Sharps had been the only casualty in the operation. Two others were injured—one from radiation and the other from a through-and-through laser wound to his thigh that had severed the femoral, but luckily cauterized the wound. He was already on Bucephalus and in nanosurgery. The prognosis to save the leg was good.
He hated losing anyone, however the KzSha were tough cookies, and the Cavaliers had wiped the floor with them. He sported the slight smile of a commanding officer proud of his unit.
Inside the cargo hold of the Phoenix drop ship were a dozen of the native Aku, looking around curiously at the machinery and sniffing the air, which no doubt smelled strange to them. Soo-Aku’s atmosphere wasn’t poisonous to Humans; the radiation it carried was. Jim’s sports drink had a minor dose of scrubber nanites to find any radioactive particles in his body, isolate them, and flush them out. As long as he stayed away from the door, he was safe enough.
He took another drink and turned to the leader of the Aku, who called himself Chiss, and handed him a translator on a cord. The being looked at it then lowered his shell to the deck with a clunk to free his hands. He took the device and examined it closer.
“I am sad for your losses, and that we couldn’t save your fellow at the end,” Jim said.
Chiss looked surprised as the translator spoke in his own language. Before he’d spoken to them in a halting version of Buma, the only other language their race knew. “Please accept a present of these translators,” Jim continued, and one of his techs placed a box with two dozen of the devices next to the alien. “They may help you in the future.”
“I am confused,” Chiss said, pausing to marvel at the translator now speaking in English. “Why do you do this for us? We cannot pay you.”
“We are paid by the Peacemakers. Your people’s plight is wrong.”
“We understand you get paid, but it is not much.” Jim nodded slowly. Splunk was sitting on his CASPer’s shoulder, eating the meat from a sandwich. Jim suspected one of his people was wondering where their lunch had gone. “The Peacemaker told us it was hard to hire mercenaries because they pay little. We tried to ask for help, but anyone who would come wanted to take much. Entire island, or all of a mineral. We hold our world sacred and do not believe in this. Still, you come, you fight, and you die here for us. Why, when no others will?”
“Because we’re Humans, and we don’t like seeing people killed for no reason,” Jim explained. “Or worse, enslaved. There are so few of you left.”
“Yes,” Chiss agreed, “the scientists from your Union say maybe not enough. We may perish.”
“Not if I can help it,” Jim said, and left Chiss to
examine the gift and his statement.
“Pretty words,” Poltova grumbled, coming down from the cockpit where he’d been using the radio to talk to his ship in orbit. “You Humans like killing as much as the rest.”
“There might be some truth to that,” Jim admitted.
“Some truth?” Poltova asked, then laughed. Out of his suit now, the Oogar towered over Jim. The alien was eight feet of muscle, fur, and claws, with a mouth full of sharp bright white teeth. He came right up to Jim, who stood his ground, despite how imposing the alien was. “We study all the races of the Union, especially the merc races; it’s part of our job. With so few merc races, we study them in great detail. After all, they tend to cause the most trouble. Your race has one of the top ten bloodiest histories of all the races in the galaxy. At least those still alive.
“Merc races are naturals at fighting and killing, but you Humans made it an art form! Dare I say the center of your culture? Such glorious slaughter you’ve done to each other, sometimes wiping out entire ethnic groups. You are no better than the Besquith or the Tortantula.”
“The difference between us and them,” Jim said, poking the bear in the chest, “is we fucking learn from our mistakes. When’s the last time the Tortantula or the Besquith took one of your piss-paying contracts, Peacemaker?” He was a little surprised at himself for poking the huge purple bear. Wasn’t there an old adage about that? He hid the grimace as he almost broke his finger jamming into essentially a wall of muscle. The Peacemaker regarded him with its tiny black eyes.
“Don’t act all superior, Human, just because you did a good deed.”
“We do a lot of good deeds,” Jim said. “I know for a fact Humans take more Peacemaker contracts than nearly all the rest of the merc races combined.”
“And why is that?” Poltova asked, not denying what Jim said.
The Cartwright’s commander pointed at the turtle-like Aku. “Because we care about those who can’t help themselves,” he said. “Humans always root for the underdog.” The Peacemaker cocked his head, no doubt listening to the translation from his pinplants.
