Clad in Steel

by Kevin McLaughlin

  The therapist they’d tried to foist on him at the Academy had attempted to get into his head. That’s when he’d learned how much that memory still hurt. Since then Owen did everything he could to keep those feelings at bay. It was easier to handle the rage he felt toward all Naga for the death of his parents than it was to cope with the other morass of feelings left over from that day.

  “Time’s up,” James said.

  His words broke Owen out of his thoughts. A glance at the clock told him that the session was indeed over. He felt confused as he replaced the book on the shelf. “Are you meeting with me again?”

  “Same time, day after tomorrow,” James said. “Three times a week, I was told.”

  Owen winced. He’d been hoping maybe that word hadn’t come through with the rest. “Yeah, me too.”

  But it hadn’t been terrible. Just sitting there was boring, but the book wasn’t. Owen had always loved reading. He rose and made his way to the door, opened it, turned back to face Major Bristol. The man glanced up from his work toward Owen, an expectant look on his face.

  “Thanks, James,” Owen said.

  “I’ll see you soon, Owen,” James replied.

  Owen closed the door behind him, his thoughts tumbling over each other as he tried to straighten them all out. James Bristol was a strange, strange man. But Owen couldn’t help feeling like he was the one person at this entire base who might actually be an ally.

  Nine

  The first week flew by, each day slipping away in a whirl of activity. Owen didn’t remain behind the others in his cohort for long. He managed to catch up and, at least in his own estimation, pass most of the rest without too much difficulty. He’d been competing against some of the best at the Academy and excelled there, so he expected nothing less from himself at Armor training.

  “All right, you’ve done a good job here,” Graham said, inspecting their work. They’d just completed a strip down, diagnosis, repair, and reconstruction of an Armor unit in what had to be record time. It was certainly their personal best, anyway. “I suppose you all want to move on to Phase 2?”

  That got Owen’s attention quickly. It was all he could do to keep his eyes facing straight ahead instead of drifting across the building toward where the simulator units rested. So far, his platoon hadn’t been allowed near the things. The only people using the sims were those who’d already graduated from their Armor training cohort.

  Yes, he was excited! The simulators still wouldn’t be the same thing as actually walking around with an Armor unit strapped around him, but it was something a lot closer than cleaning and putting them together.

  “Yes, sir!” The chorus was unanimous. Yeah, his platoon was as hot to go do this as Owen was.

  “All right. We’ll start you on something light. Roberts, take your squad in first. The rest of you get to watch them screw up on the big screen,” Graham said, pointing at a display mounted on the wall. “But no laughing, because you’ll get your chance, too.”

  The next few minutes were spent strapping themselves into unfamiliar harnesses. Sure, they’d stripped them down, but that wasn’t the same as getting buckled in. The Armor units had a complex system of straps and harnesses designed to keep the pilot from getting shaken to death in combat.

  Owen put the last buckle into place. He checked his display. It read all green, which meant he’d done the sequence correctly. In real combat he’d have a tech on hand double-checking his work, but not that day. The simulators wouldn’t actually tip their pilots on their heads the way a real Armor could, so there wasn’t much risk of injury.

  The display in front of Owen lit up, showing a nicely rendered 3D image of open terrain with rolling hills and the occasional tree. He looked to his right and left. Screens on either side of him showed him the side-facing views as well. His controls flashed, then glowed a steady green. The simulator was live.

  Owen took an experimental step forward. The whole simulator lurched as the machine struggled to use internal gyroscopes to compensate for his movement. His foot came down a little too solidly, but it was a step.

  “McInness, work with the machine, don’t fight it. Roberts, you’re not dancing; step out with a little more authority. The Armor won’t bite you,” Graham said. He kept on rattling off advice for each of Owen’s squad as they slowly grew more confident walking around in the machines.

  “Uh oh. Looks like we have incoming,” Graham said. “Enemy targets spotted at three o’clock.”

  Owen looked out his right screen and saw them — four Bugs bearing down on their position. They looked something like giant centipedes the size of trucks, but with the first third of their body lifted free from the ground. All four of them wore battle armor, the silvery sheen reflecting sunlight. They were also armed, and they were firing!

  “Move, people!” Roberts said. “I’ve got point. Kowal and Hernandez, with me. McInness, bring up the rear.”

  As the team maneuvered to take up the positions Roberts ordered, Owen glanced over his weapon loadout. He had no missiles, which sucked. Each arm had a heavy machine gun mounted on it, and both of those had massive blades hanging beneath them. He could shoot or slash, but not both. A button press gave him the weapon systems for his team-mates.

  Owen saw instantly where Roberts had made a mistake. His Armor had shoulder missiles and Naga-style energy rifles mounted in the arms. Heavy damage but a slow rate of fire. His Armor should have stayed in the rear where the others could cover him and keep the Bugs away while he pounded them. Kowal was armed like Owen, and Hernandez was a mixture of machine gun and a railgun; a weapon even more potent than the Naga cannon, but with an even slower loading time!

  Roberts had put two Armor loadouts on the front line that were going to be cut to pieces. Owen opened up a private channel to him. “Roberts, swap positions with me. I’ve got a better weapons array for point. Fall back.”

  “You’re not giving orders here, ex-cadet,” Roberts retorted. “Follow the ones you’re given.”

  He cut the channel. Owen growled under his breath, anger rising in his chest. Damn the man! They were going to get creamed out there because he was using his forces wrong. Owen watched the bugs come running in, helpless to do much about it. Roberts and Hernandez each got off a single volley before the Bugs closed in on them. At close range, they were going to get ripped up.

  That was enough. Owen’s fury mounted until he couldn’t contain it anymore. He rushed forward, driving his simulated Armor unit at a breakneck pace. It somehow remained upright, although the box he sat in lurched side to side heavily. Owen reached Roberts a moment before the Bug slashed his suit open with its scimitar-like legs. He shoved Roberts aside and took the brunt of the assault on his Armor instead.

  Claws ripped into steel with a screeching noise that drowned everything else out. But Owen wasn’t defenseless at this range. He had his arm-mounted knives and used them to slash at the Bug’s belly armor. It reared back in surprise and pain, which gave him the space he needed to open fire with both machine guns. The rounds found spots already weakened on the Bug’s armor and pounded it apart, killing it.

  Before Owen could celebrate another Bug slammed into him from his left. It took him completely by surprise. Hadn’t Roberts been on that side of him? How had the Bug gotten past him? The alien’s claws slashed through his Armor. Red flashes mounted on Owen’s screens as the damage readouts flashed with alarm. He struggled to get any of his weapons to bear without success. Seconds later, it was over. His screens went blank. The Bug had ‘killed’ him.

  “Bang, you’re dead, McInness,” Graham said.

  Owen slid free from his harness and looked over at the main screen, where Kowal was still fighting a spirited battle against two Bugs. But she was losing. He could already see how they were slowly splitting up so they could come at her from two directions at once. When they did, the sudden attack overwhelmed her. She still managed to hurt one of the attackers badly, but the last one took her out.

  As
she came climbing out of her simulator, Graham called out to her. “Not bad fighting, Kowal. That two-on-one was tough. You did the best you could with it under the circumstances. Remember that it’s usually better to take one down fast in that case, so they can’t split up and take you out like that.”

  “Got it, sir. Won’t happen again,” Kowal replied.

  “I bet it won’t,” Graham said. Then he turned to the other three members of the squad and shook his head. “You lot. I’ve seen some sorry first runs, but this? You take the cake.”

  He turned back to the rest of the platoon. “Where did they screw it up?”

  “When McInness knocked over his squad leader, maybe?” Owen tried to identify the speaker, but he wasn’t sure who it was. Knock over Roberts? He’d only wanted to shoulder him out of the way a little. Owen looked over at him and was met with grim silence and angry glare. Shit.

  Graham aimed a controller at the screen and clicked a button. The video rewound right to the start of the battle. Owen got a birds-eye view of everything. The Bugs rushed in. Roberts deployed his team. Then out of the blue, Owen’s Armor rushed forward and shouldered his squad leader out of the way. He saved Roberts, sure. But the blow was enough to knock the inexperienced pilot off his feet. Roberts tumbled sideways down the hill.

  One of the other Bugs saw an easy target and made for him. The video displayed it tearing his suit to bits in seconds. Then the Bug dashed forward a second time and attacked Owen from the side. His attempts at defense were futile, and he went down as well.

  Hernandez had ‘died’ about the same time Owen did, leaving Kowal by herself. Graham was right, in Owen’s assessment. Of all of them, she’d done the best job. He slumped, going back over his actions. What could he have done differently out there?

  “And…you’re all dead,” Graham said. He paused the video as it showed a bug tearing Kowal’s Armor in half. “You get me? You’re dead!”

  He let the silence reign a little bit and stalked back and forth in front of them before going on. “This isn’t a video game. Those Bugs are real. Hell, there may be shit out there worse than them. Space is full of things that want to eat you, people! When you go out there — which seems unlikely for some of you! — every decision you make will be life or death.”

  Graham turned to Roberts. “Squad leader. Where did you go wrong?”

  Roberts had clearly had time to think about things. “I misplaced my team members. I should have organized them based on their weapons loads. I didn’t look to see how we were all armed or consider what that meant for deployment.”

  “Good,” Graham said. “And?”

  Roberts chewed his lip and shot Owen a glare. “I ignored good advice from a team member,” he grated out.

  “Who then compounded that error how?” Graham said, looking over at Owen.

  That was easy enough. Owen knew precisely where he’d screwed up. “I didn’t follow my squad leader’s commands and took the initiative to engage the enemy in close quarters combat.”

  Graham stalked over in front of him. “You didn’t follow your leader’s commands. Think about that, because those words are really what killed all four of you. Bad orders are better than no order. Remember that. If you’re all screwed up and doing your own thing, then you’re fighting as individuals. You want to win, you have to operate as a team.”

  The DI turned away from Owen and back to the rest of the platoon. “All right. Second Squad, get in there. Let’s see if you can do any better than First.”

  Ten

  Hereford glanced from one officer to another, bemused. He wanted to hear from both of them, even though he’d already made up his mind on the matter. For the moment he allowed Captain Pahwel to have his say.

  “He disobeyed direct orders and got his squad killed,” Pahwel protested. “McInness isn’t fit for this sort of work. He should be removed from the program before he gets someone actually killed, rather than just in simulation.”

  Charline Foster sat there as well, listening in. She glanced Hereford’s way, and he gave her a small shake of his head. He wanted Pahwel to get it all out. Hereford knew the captain had taken an instant dislike of his latest recruit, but Pahwel was also a professional. He’d served under Hereford for years. He was a good man, and the general wouldn’t brush away his opinions without hearing them out.

  “He’s bright, I’ll give him that,” Pahwel admitted. “His aptitude scores are higher than anyone else in his platoon. But his emotional responses to any stressful situation are throwing him off every time. He’s seeing a therapist, right?”

  “Yes, a good one. James Bristol,” Hereford said.

  Pahwel’s eyebrows rose. “Well, he’s in good hands, then. Maybe we should consider allowing the therapy to run its course, and then re-admit him once he’s doing better? I think the boy has promise, damn it, but he’s going to get someone killed.”

  Hereford rubbed his chin. It wasn’t the worst plan in the world. Get McInness some of the help he clearly needed to get over the way his parents were killed, and then once he was stronger, place him back in the saddle. Except Hereford was confident it wouldn’t work out that way. Confidence was the problem, in a nutshell. If he yanked McInness out of training at this point, the boy would lose faith. In Space Force, in Hereford, and most importantly he’d lose confidence in himself.

  Hereford looked over at Charline. “What’s your take?”

  “He screwed up,” Charline replied, considering her words carefully. “But then again, if we got rid of every trainee who ever messed up in training, we’d never graduate anyone. My feeling is that this doesn’t warrant removal. Not yet, anyway. I’m definitely in favor of continuing to keep an eye on him.”

  “You’re shoving the problem back at me,” Pahwel said. His wry smile took the sting out of his words.

  “That’s why you get paid the big bucks!” Charline replied, beaming at him.

  “What big bucks?” Pahwel laughed. “All right, we’ll leave him in. I just hope he has time to get it together before we need him in combat.”

  Hereford couldn’t agree more. But things were continuing to push ahead, out there in space. He had a feeling they needed more people trained as quickly as possible. They were going to need every single one. Especially given light of their recent orders. He turned back to Charline. “Your people ready to roll?”

  “Yes,” Charline replied. “Are you sure you want my entire platoon to go, though? I could leave a squad behind. I hate to leave Earth without any Armor, in case you need us.”

  They were headed off-world. Charline, the Wynns, two of their best ships, and a lot of their best people. All on their way out of the system to the furthest point any human had ever traveled. It was a desperate gambit, but Hereford planned the crews well for the mission.

  If the worst came to worst and they somehow ended up stranded millions of light-years away, they would have everything they needed to ensure the survival of humanity.

  “One squad won’t make much difference if we get hit,” Hereford said. “Besides, we have Pahwel here, and his training sergeants. They will serve if we have some sort of emergency.”

  “The recruits will graduate soon, too,” Pahwel added. “Won’t be long before we have a second Armor platoon.”

  “Good, that’s settled, then,” Hereford said. “I need to get back to base ASAP. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course, sir,” Charline replied. She and Pahwel both stood while he left the room, then sat down and got back to work. While she was away, Pahwel would be in charge of the remaining Armor troops. It was a lot of responsibility to hand to a captain, but Hereford was sure he could handle it.

  He stepped outside the administration building into the fresh evening air. Much as the heat of the day bothered him, the cool of this arid semi-desert always made him feel at home. Hereford inhaled, taking in all the scents on the breeze.

  Movement caught his eye. He looked over and spotted a recruit walking back toward the barrack
s. It wasn’t hard to pick McInness out of the crowd. He still had the stiff walk an Academy cadet carried with them. Hereford went toward him.

  “McInness. We should talk,” Hereford said.

  “Sir! I didn’t expect to see you here,” McInness replied.

  “I often turn up where least expected,” Hereford said, a twinkle in his eye. “How are you doing?”

  McInness sighed. “Not as well as I’d like. I screwed up today, sir.”

  “I heard,” Hereford replied.

  McInness winced visibly. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “I know you won’t. But why are you having a hard time following orders from your squad leader? You must have gotten used to the idea, back at the Acadamy,” Hereford said.

  “Yes, sir. But he was wrong, sir. He cut me off, ignored my advice. I got angry. I wanted to prove to him I was right,” McInness admitted.

  Well, copping to the problem was a start, at least. If McInness was aware of where he was wrong, that was something. He still needed some help to get the rest of the way through it all. Hereford had an idea that might help. “Come with me.”

  Wordlessly, Hereford began striding toward the center of the small camp. McInness followed in his wake. He led the recruit to the precise center and stood there staring up at the ugly hunk of metal towering over him. He remained silent, letting McInness make the first move.

  “Sir, why is that thing here? I can see it’s supposed to be Armor, but it doesn’t look like our suits. It’s bigger, the plating looks wrong, and it’s all slagged,” McInness said.

  “Good observations. Why do you suppose it might be there?” Hereford asked.

  “I don’t know, sir,” McInness replied. “It seems like a strange statue.”

  “That’s because it’s not a statue, it’s a tomb,” Hereford said. He reached down and tapped a plaque set into the stone on which the ‘statue’ stood, then read it aloud. It was too dark to see the words, but Hereford knew them by heart.