She wasn’t hit. She jumped over the rubble line and into the destroyed city beyond. But she didn’t realize that her phone, with its Federal Marine tracking app, was still lying on the ground at the foot of the tree where it had dropped from her pocket…
11
Last Chance
“PRIVATE WILLIAMS TO THE SERGEANT’S OFFICE! PRIVATE WILLIAMS TO THE SERGEANT’S OFFICE!”
The internal speakers blared the order not twenty minutes after Dane had finally gotten to the mess hall. His limbs still ached from moving all the gymnasium equipment, and his head still thrummed with the conspiracy that he and Joey had just discovered. In front of him on the table was one of the three-part “space meal” food trays, still with its steaming shepherd’s pie, vegetables, and chocolate pudding only half-eaten.
“Oh, come on!” Dane groaned, earning a smattering of laughs from the other recruits and trainees around him.
Was there really no end to Lashmeier’s vindictiveness? Williams was thinking, stuffing as much of the food as he could into his face and wishing that he could eat three times the amount before stashing the tray in the cleaning bins and heading out to the corridors at a jog. It wouldn’t do to keep the sergeant waiting, especially if he was angry with him.
“Psycho!” Dane heard someone growl behind him from the mess halls. But he didn’t have the time or the inclination to find out who it was as he ran, skidding down first one corridor and then the next, up the stairs to the higher level of the base and abruptly slowing to salute a captain and staffers as they clipped past, before he got to the sergeant’s office.
“Sir reporting sir!” The door was open, and Dane stamped to attention, waiting until he was recognized.
“At ease, Private,” came the somewhat resigned sigh of Lashmeier, sitting behind his desk in the small office, looking up from the data tablet.
Dane had never seen the sergeant in his home territory like this, and the sight of such a fearsome and powerful man surrounded by data tablets and paperwork was, quite frankly, unsettling. On the walls were multiple framed pictures of the sergeant at the end of previous missions, in deserts or jungles, and at least two in the red-sanded glows of Mars.
“Private Williams,” Lashmeier said, standing up. “We have a problem.”
Oh frack… Dane was thinking. He considered opening his mouth and then immediately thought better of it when he saw the sergeant’s dour look.
“The problem is, Dane, that you’ve got a point to prove.”
What, other than I’m the best damn Mech-Fighter there is in this building!? he thought.
The sergeant appeared to be watching his reaction carefully. He made a small noise of agreement with himself.
“I bet that even right now, you’re thinking up something clever to say to me in response, but wisely, Private, you didn’t,” the sergeant said, and Dane blushed in agitation.
“Maybe something I’m teaching you is getting in there after all,” the sergeant said, before turning to point toward one of the framed cases on the wall, where a purple-flagged medal sat.
“You know what I got that for, Private?” he asked.
“Sir no sir,” Dane said immediately.
“No. You don’t. Word of why I got that medal doesn’t usually reach beyond military walls,” the sergeant said. “But I can say this. Surrounded. Outgunned. Three of my squad already dead around me, and another two to go before the mission was out. We were trying to stop a shipment of weapons from reaching the stronghold of a smuggling ring—one that was using unofficial rocket launches to get up to a pirate station to hand over the weapons to a group seeking to take the Mars colony,” the sergeant said.
Dane remembered hearing about some sort of trouble related to the nascent Mars colony. Weren’t there some separatists or something a couple years back?
“It turned out that the smugglers were backed by some of the biggest mercenary outfits on the planet. They were prepared,” the sergeant said. “They got lucky, or we got unlucky, I don’t know… But it ended up with my squad in foxholes on some godforsaken mountain, being shelled. It was black ops, and we weren’t even supposed to be in that country,” the sergeant said, his voice going low and distant.
“Anyway. What happened isn’t important. What is important was that we won, and that I only did that through one thing alone. Can you name what it is?”
“Sir, sheer stubbornness, sir?” Dane hazarded, earning a small wry grin from his superior officer.
“In part, perhaps. But no, Private—that wasn’t the answer. The answer was my brothers in arms. We got through together. We had to get through. We had to rely on each other. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Sir, that I shouldn’t have beaten the crap out of Osgud, sir?” Dane said, his words grating and catching in his mouth as, internally, he seethed in anger.
What if I told you that Osgud sabotaged my suit? That he almost killed Engineer Corsoni!?
“If you’re smart enough to see that now, Private, then why the hell didn’t you manage it an hour and a half ago!?” The sergeant suddenly stepped forward to bark at Dane.
Dane opened and closed his mouth, holding his information in. Maybe I should tell him. Maybe he would believe me.
But one look at the sergeant showed Dane that Lashmeier really didn’t want to hear the excuses right now.
“Which brings me back to our problem, Private Williams. You have a point to prove. Some of the others, yes, are giving you a rough time because of your…” A flicker of the sergeant’s eyes at Dane’s legs, “…your health.”
My legs, you mean. Dane clenched his jaws a little tighter.
“Why I told you that story, Private, was because on that mission to that mountain, and during that night when we had to crawl on our bellies over the rocks to the enemy gun positions, using knives only because the muzzle flashes would be spotted…” The Sergeant’s voice rose. “There was a guy named Matthews. He and I, you could say, didn’t see eye to eye,” the sergeant said with a twinkle of vindictive mirth in his eye. “One more month on base, and we’d probably have ended up with one of us in the hospital or worse.” The sergeant’s voice was low.
“So, when word came that Matthews and I were on the same squad, it wasn’t news I relished. I was even nervous about whether I could trust him.” He paused, looking out the window for the briefest of moments.
“But we got through that night, Private Williams. And by the time that we were back on the West Coast, sipping lemonade by the pool, I had realized that Matthews was my brother, as any Marine will be if you make it through basic training.”
I doubt that Osgud will ever be my brother. Dane felt his gut turn over with suppressed anger.
“So, with that word of advice, Private—I am giving you your last unofficial opportunity. And if you screw it up, then believe me, it won’t be long before you are back to lying around in hospital beds, while someone else comes to wipe your ass, you got that?” the sergeant said. “I am deploying the recruits on their first field mission, and yes, you will be serving alongside Private Osgud. Respond, Private!”
“Sir, I…” Dane said, trying to force his difficult emotions into words. “I really don’t think that is a good idea…”
If Osgud feels free enough to try and break my suit here in the middle of base, then what would happen out there!?
“DID YOU JUST DENY A DIRECT ORDER, PRIVATE!” The sergeant suddenly shouted at full-Lashmeier volume.
“Sir no sir, I–” Dane shouted back at once.
“Damn right you didn’t, Private!” Lashmeier snapped at him.
“You will be deploying within the hour. Our Doctor Heathcote has managed to get herself lost out in New Sanctuary, and I suggest that you manage to stow away whatever issue you have with Osgud and get the job done, understood!?” Lashmeier said sternly. “This is an opportunity, Dane. An opportunity to learn what it means to be a Marine. And if you cannot do that—if I hear one whisper of trouble between you
and Osgud out there—then you’re out. Understood?”
Lashmeier’s face was implacable, and really, Dane had no option but to salute.
“Sir, understood, sir!” Dane said tersely.
12
Really Screwed Up This Time
Circle back to the jeep. Call for backup. The thoughts were becoming a fast-murmuring river in her head as Doctor Heathcote panicked.
She was currently lying wedged between blocks. Looking down into the street she had just managed to clamber through and wishing that her heart wasn’t thumping at a hundred beats per minute.
She could see the figures that were chasing her. Two burly people in haphazard work jackets and reinforced trousers, with simple, emergency-responder visors over their heads. They had been joined by two more—and they held a collection of rifles, pistols, and shotguns between them.
Looters! Sylvia could have groaned, if she hadn’t been too terrified to make a sound. That soldier at the checkpoint had been wrong. New Sanctuary was still being picked over by the opportunistic and the desperate—although this four-man team behind her looked fairly well equipped.
A criminal gang? she thought, reaching for her phone.
To find that it was gone, and it wasn’t in her other pocket, either.
Damn, damn, damn! She growled to herself. I must have dropped it or left it in the jeep…
And where is the jeep in relation to here, anyway? Sylvia wondered to herself, lifting her head just a little to peek over the park. She couldn’t see it from here.
Skreee! With her slight movement, one of the blocks started to shift from underneath her, sending a small river of grit and stone down toward the men picking through the rubble below.
“Hey! Up there!” The biggest one in the lead suddenly pointed up at her and raised his rifle…
Frack! Sylvia pushed off with her hands, rolling across the rise to painfully bang shins and elbows.
Crack! The wasp-like buzz and smack of bullets hit concrete rubble.
“Don’t let her get away!” she heard one of them shout. “If she brings the soldiers, we’re screwed!”
“Up there, go!” another was shouting. Sylvia had no choice but to scramble down the other side of the collapsed building—and saw that it descended down almost vertically into a pit in the earth.
No, not a pit—an underground garage, she realized as she ran, stumbled, and scrambled as fast as she could into the bowels of New Sanctuary.
You really screwed up this time, Sylvia, she was thinking as she finally found steady ground, and ran forward into the darkness…
13
Deployment
“Joey?” Dane rushed to the side of his AMP cradle to find the engineer already clambering down the wall ladder beside.
“I heard. She’s ready, Williams,” Joey said with a steady nod—although Dane could tell that the engineer wasn’t pleased. Around them was the noise and bustle of the other trainees quickly suiting up as the orders had come down.
“I’ve checked everywhere I can in such a short time,” Corsoni was saying. “And I’m pretty sure that there are no other nasty surprises waiting inside her, but I’d have liked a whole day to go inch by inch, and run a complete systems check…”
“We can’t be sure that Osgud didn’t do any more damage to her?” Dane said in a breathless whisper as he quickly threw off his outer jacket—it gets real hot in a Mech suit after the first hour—and climbed into the cradle.
“No, you’ll have to be careful,” Joey was saying before slapping the metal of Dane’s shoulder.
“Suit activation!” Corsoni shouted, moving out of the way as the cradle started to open. At the same time, the plates pulled themselves in front of Dane and locked, one by one, in place.
Some of the other Mechs were already managing to step out of their cradles, Dane saw, as his harness clicked, then the breast-plate locked, and finally, the visor.
>TRAINING AMP 023 Activating…
>Cycling accelerator unit…
My first mission, Dane was thinking, feeling the tremor of excitement and nervousness in his chest. This was what he had been trained for. This was what he was here for.
>Recognizing User… PVT. WILLIAMS, D…
>General Systems Check… GOOD…
>Filtration, Biological, Chemical, and Radionic Protections… GOOD…
Through the blackened plastic of the faceplate, he could see Osgud and Marks’ Mechs striding confidently forward. Dane felt a well of rage, but pushed it down.
This is my chance to show them what I am capable of. My last chance, he told himself.
>Connecting to Federal Network…
“Listen up, tin cans!” came the bawling, shouting voice of Sergeant Lashmeier outside the suit as he strode into view, wearing his own AMP suit.
Holy cow, Dane thought. Somehow, he had never expected to see the sergeant actually going with them on a mission. Or in a suit—but the sergeant wore his battered old suit with pride and moved with accustomed ease and grace, as if he had been born in it, Dane saw.
“This is a simple search and rescue operation: what you are being trained for, primarily!” Lashmeier was saying. His voice was broadcast by his suit’s speakers. His suit was the same one that they all wore, but it had a considerably higher number of knocks, scratches, and dents across its plate.
“Get yourself to the transporters in the yard, Red, Green, and Blue teams! Each one will be given a section of New Sanctuary to survey for our missing doctor! Keep comms open but chatter to a minimum, please!” the sergeant was shouting as Dane’s suit fully activated. He stepped out of his cradle himself to jog forward and follow the others through the gymnasium and to the yard outside.
“You’ve got full suit capabilities which includes your forearm light lasers—no general firearms!” the sergeant shouted (which elicited a moan from some).
Ahead of them, Dane could see three large Marine transport ships already lowering, flattening the grass, their loading ramps coming down.
>SQUAD IDENTIFIER:…
A data point flashed up on his HUD. Dane saw an arrow appear at the same time, directing him to one of the Marine transports.
>PVT. WILLIAMS. SQUAD: RED…
He was part of a four-AMP team, he saw. He jogged forward, and the indicators of his fellow Red Squad teammates flared into existence on his HUD.
>PVT. WILLIAMS…
>PVT VARAKIS…
>PVT. GREENE…
>PVT. OSGUD…
Oh hell, Dane thought, as one of the AMP suits turned—the one with the fading indicator of PVT.OSGUD hovering beside it. Dane saw Osgud raise one metal hand to his own neck and make a cutting motion for a moment, before turning and clanking into the transporter.
>Approaching Drop Site…
The transporter rocked and rolled as it swam through the air. It turned out that Marine transport was very different from any civilian travel Dane remembered. For one, it seemed that the Federal Marines were too tough to believe in flight stabilizers.
Dane stood in his AMP suit, letting the solidity of the metal frame take his weight. The suit was a good fit, much more comfortable than the Intrepid’s had been, so good that Dane could even forget that it wasn’t a part of him…
The others stood in a line, and everyone was eerily silent as they felt the transporter wobble and shake, lowering itself toward the ground.
>Updating Search Vector…
A green vector shape appeared on his HUD, with directional arrows already telling him what way that he had to go.
>Incoming Message/SGT. LASHMEIER…
>Listen up, metal-heads! You have your search parameters. Keep an eye on your objectives and look lively! Marines!
“Boo-yah!” Dane heard the shout from the more excitable Varakis behind him. Dane felt the surge of anticipation rolling up through his metal-clad body as well. Just like old times, he was thinking. But it was tinged with a hair-raising awareness at the back of his neck as he felt Osgud back
there, watching.
You just keep your crap to yourself. He shot the silent rebuke at his fellow private, as the transporter’s doors opened, still hovering some fifteen feet above the demolished New Sanctuary.
“Holy hell…” Dane breathed, seeing the wasteland that had been his home. Everything was turned into drifts and waves of rubble and cinder blocks, as if his entire home city had been turned momentarily to liquid and then frozen, midstorm.
This was the first time that Dane had seen his city in the flesh since the attack, and the worst part of it was that there were still some parts that were vaguely recognizable. Over there was one slivered edge of the gleaming steel “Needle”—a tower that had been one of New Sanctuary’s crowning architectural achievements.
And that means… He was sure that the broken line of floodlights on the back of some broken-open building in the distance was the New Sanctuary Mech-Wrestler Dome.
Where all this began… Dane thought.
>Move! Move! Move!
A green light flared on his HUD, and suddenly, Varakis was running forward. Dane felt the instinctual kick to his guts as he broke into a run, too, lengthening his stride as he jumped out of the transporter.
A sudden feeling of weight came as gravity took the heavy suit. Dane was scissoring his legs into a kick to slam into the patch of broad asphalt roadway in a crouch, cracking the ground and sending up a cloud of dust on either side of him.
Wham!
Wham!
Around him, Greene and Osgud landed, Greene a little awkwardly so that he stumbled forward with a startled cry heard over the suit-to-suit, but Osgud executed his deployment perfectly.
Mech Warrior: Born of Steel (Mechanized Infantry Division Book 1) Page 8
