A.I. Destiny 5 Talisman of Tomorrow

by Timothy Ellis

  The rear missile launcher, loaded only with fire and forget, emptied.

  She came around, ready to make another pass, but as she did, thirty missiles were fired at her at the same time. Someone not on the lead ship was in charge and adapting. The point defence turrets took most of them out, but three slammed into the nose of her ship, and the shields failed momentarily. A fourth, fluking just the right moment, exploded against the missile launcher, and the remaining missiles she hadn't used, detonated.

  The front of the ship vanished, and the rest plunged into the forest canopy below.

  Jane snapped back into her Captain Havoc avatar.

  "Bugger it," she said.

  "Sir?" asked the marine sitting at coms.

  "Nothing, just talking to myself."

  Sensor data from the planet showed her missiles taking out a few more ships, and damaging most of them. But at best, she'd only reduced the number of troops hitting the pyramid by forty percent.

  "Nothing wrong with talking to yourself sir. It's when you don't agree with what you answer yourself with, you have a problem."

  "Quite."

  Jane smiled to shut the young marine down, and refocussed herself on the coming space battle.

  Sixty One

  "Damn," said Crocatoa. "Give that pilot a medal for sheer guts, and our thanks for weeding out the incoming."

  He looked at the Majors standing in front of him, and waved Emerson to get rid of the hollo screen he'd popped up, showing them the battle just fought, and lost. Patters stood there too, looking grim. No-one had mentioned the rodent like creature perched on her shoulder.

  "I want six firing lines in front of the entrance to the pyramid," went on Crocatoa. "Front two fire forward, and cover the flanks. Middle two fire at forty five degrees up. Back two take sixty five degrees. Not-crocs in the rear ranks. I figure those combat suits of yours are going to have a problem firing upwards." He said the last looking at the two human Majors.

  "Not really," laughed Emerson. "We don't need to tilt the head up. Just point the gun up, and fire using combat routines."

  "I don't care how you do it. Alternating ranks, so three ranks are always firing."

  "We call it Zulu formation sir."

  "Why's that?"

  "No-one remembers."

  "Huh! Let's get them lined up! Enemy is incoming. Time for idle chit chat later."

  Bottoms-up had his hands over his ears.

  Majors gave commands, Lieutenants repeated them, Sergeants bellowed, troops and combat suits moved. At the center of the last two ranks, Warspite stood holding his meson streamers pointed upwards. In front of him in each rank, the other four covered their designated zone of fire.

  "Patters?" bellowed Crocatoa, from inside the entrance.

  She slipped through a gap in the troops, and followed him further in. He pulled something out of a backpack against one wall, and handed it to her.

  She looked with awe at the perfectly sized pulse rifle for a cat her size, hefted it, and found it a perfect balance for her. She looked back at the not-Croc.

  "I was supposed to give that to Snark. It was made to fit the size of his ego, just downsized enough so he could actually carry it. Seems to fit you well enough, and I thought since he isn't here, you may as well use it."

  Patters didn't have the words, but her face said everything. He handed her six recharges.

  "The gun will fire the same pulse as the rest of them, but a lot fewer before needing to recharge. Or you can set it to half pulse, and double the life of each charge."

  "Will the half pulse take out an eye if you hit it, and fry the brain behind it?"

  "Yes. Can you do that?"

  She switched the gun down.

  "Watch me."

  "I will. My people have charges like yours, but they're not interchangeable. Those six are all you have. We can recharge them if we're here long enough to need to, but try not to run out during a fight. We have reserves in here if we need them. The combat suits don't need them, since the suit recharges the gun as long as the suit has power itself. Apparently the droids are the same. Damn but I'm waiting for Leader Jane to make a suit like that I can wear."

  "So is Snark."

  They both laughed.

  "Colonel?" came a bellow from outside.

  The rumble of engines in the sky was getting louder.

  Patters stayed put as the not-croc left. She looked as well as she could at the glider still on her shoulder.

  "Are your people away from the drop zone around here? This is not going to be a safe place for anything. Plant, animal, or sentient."

  "We've been driving the local wildlife way. Or at least, those which can be spooked easily. The rest will run as soon as the first valderian lands."

  "And your people?"

  "Have been having more fun in the last few hours, than we've had in years."

  "How so?"

  "What do you think is happening across the continent where all those troops bailed out?"

  Patters looked blank, and the glider laughed.

  "Those troops have no idea how much hurt is descending on them. And those who already do, didn't for long."

  Patters just couldn't see it. A tiny flying rodent verses a huge valderian which could see in all directions at once. There didn't seem to be a happy ending for the rodent, and there was no way it could be called fun.

  "You'll see."

  Patters nodded politely, and went outside to stand next to Crocatoa.

  Sixty Two

  The whale delivered Patchet's Workshop to planetary orbit. They detached the lines holding the ship to the whale, sent it a thank you, wished it well, and watched it leave.

  The armada of troop ships was clearly visible below, and about to unload.

  Jamie had been coming up with numerous plans to get down to the surface, but ended up scotching the lot. There didn't seem to be any way down there. But he knew he had to get down there. He couldn't leave Anna fighting who knew what on her own. Well, not alone, hardly alone with a battalion of troops having her back, but he knew she was alone.

  Patchet, in between piloting the ship, was scratching his stubble. Jamie knew the look he had on his face. The Australian engineer had something up his stained sleeve.

  "What're ye thinkin'?"

  "You'd be even more of a mad Scots git to try it."

  Jamie grinned.

  "What?"

  Patchet explained.

  Jamie laughed.

  "Worth a try," he said.

  "On your own head, and all that," said Patchet wryly.

  "I'm coming too," said Dodgers.

  "Mad as a cut snake, the both of you."

  A channel opened.

  "I agree," said Seasprite. "If you're going to do this mad thing, you're also going to need something else."

  "What?" all three of them asked together.

  Seasprite told them.

  "Now ye bloody tell me," said Jamie, but his eyes were alive, and his grin wild. "Let's be doing it!"

  Sixty Three

  From above, it looked like the entire area of rainforest had turned black, like some sort of blight was spreading out from the center, where there was a tiny hole in the canopy.

  Underneath, the rear lines of troops opened fire at the descending valderians, one line at a time, timed to half the recharge time between pulses. There were too many of them, strung out too far. The middle lines began firing at what the back lines had missed, while the rear lines kept on firing at more coming after the first ones. The front lines waited until the ones who managed to get down close to the front of the pyramid were almost on the ground, and preceded to cut them down as well.

  Bodies hit the ground all around, where glider suits had failed, and gravity had exerted itself. Others glided down smoothly, but hit the ground anyway, and didn't get up. The ones who landed safely, but virtually on top of the lines of troops, or directly in front of them, died then and there. Those who managed to land further away, began to fo
rm ranks.

  A rain of solid shot landed on the troops, bouncing off the combat suits and droids, and not even bothering the not-crocs in belt suits. The suits shifted to protect the face and eyes so fast, they hardly noticed. Patters however, backed under the protection of the pyramid, and was using the extra height to pick of targets she could properly aim at. At the first of the slugs to come near her, the glider had jumped straight inside.

  For every valderian who died on the drop, fifteen more landed safely out of range.

  Well away from the entrance, black armoured valderians swarmed the small clearing. They opened to allow a shuttle to land. Hundreds formed a solid mass around it as a protection detail. The rest rapid marched to join the growing ranks.

  There was an unnatural quiet as the last valderian in range died, the troop transports left the area, and nothing moved. The silence didn't last long.

  "Change charges!" yelled Crocatoa.

  Those who had them, changed them, regardless of needing to or not.

  "All guns front!"

  The ranks realigned themselves, the front ranks going on one knee, the middle ranks standing, and the rear ones stepping up onto a small berm, hastily built not long before. The second line for each, shifted slightly to fire between the ranks in front.

  "Major Emerson."

  "Sir?"

  "One and Four."

  "Sir!"

  "Major Schafer."

  "Sir?"

  "Two and Five."

  "Yes sir."

  "Three and six on my order."

  The lieutenants in the lines responded the same way.

  "What are they waiting for," asked Patters.

  She'd never seen anything like this before. The close range slaughter was everything she'd hoped she would never see in her lifetime. But here she was, sickened beyond belief, and the battle hadn't really even started yet. She made an effort to get a grip, and changed her charge as ordered. The first one wasn't depleted yet, but she could see the wisdom in changing it now.

  A wide line of valderians appeared from out among the trees, trampling the undergrowth and bodies both, as they advanced at a steady pace. They were solidly packed together behind, as far as the eye could see.

  "One, set," bellowed Emerson. He waited as they took a few more steps forward. "Fire!"

  The first ranks of enemy soldiers thinned.

  "Two, fire," yelled Schafer.

  "Three, fire," yelled Crocatoa.

  The first ranks were replaced by those behind, and the valderians began to run.

  "Four."

  "Five."

  "Six."

  "One."

  Three times as fast as before, the ranks fired. Valderians fell. More came on over them. Slugs hit suit armour, droid frames, and belt suits, and the ranks stood firm. The firing in both directions never stopped.

  Patters stopped firing. A rank was firing every second, and her one shot wasn't going to make any difference at all. She stood there watching as seconds became minutes, and the minutes stretched. The enemy never wavered, and the bodies began to pile up so the front ranks were now firing more upwards.

  The called out numbers went on and on. Until suddenly, the last rank's volley was ragged.

  "Reload," yelled a voice from one end of the line.

  The not-croc's pulse rifles were empty. The others kept firing, but the short lessening allowed the enemy to creep closer.

  As the sound of charges slapping into guns sounded up and down the line, the first valderians reached the first line, and suddenly it was hand to hand.

  Warspite watched as the middle of the first line vanished under black armoured bodies. The troops didn't go down, they were simply covered in enemy troops swarming over them. The second and third lines suffered the same.

  His two droids, meson streamers cutting back and forth non-stop, saw the others go down, and to his complete surprise, the same happened to him. He found himself underneath too many bodies to shift, his weapons pushed aside where the firing did no good, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Patters saw the center of the ranks going under, and backed away around the corner. Crocatoa and a hand full of his not-croc troops followed her, and formed a line in front of her. She couldn't see the glider anywhere, and hoped it had escaped.

  Valderians surged in through the entrance of the pyramid, and the troops in front of Patters cut down as many as they could, the bodies piling up high in front of them.

  And then, something strange happened. They stopped coming at them.

  Patters peeked out through a gap between corpses, and saw an amazing sight.

  In through the entrance was coming a turtle formation. In the front and sides, carried bodies were being used as battle shields. Every fourth or fifth trooper was holding aloft a large sheet of whatever they used as body armour, and the front relentlessly forced its way in, until the first troopers still alive stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  There was a ripple along its length starting at the entrance, as bodies moved outwards, and inwards again, moving towards the stairs.

  Two figures, hidden in cloaks, stepped onto the first step, and looked around.

  Patters shivered. She could smell evil. It was as if it had a stench, even though she knew she was imagining it. One of the figures was hunched over in a stoop. From it, the emanated evil came.

  The figures climbed the stairs, and disappeared.

  Sixty Four

  Jamie and Dodgers hurtled out of Patchet's Pride with the force of the thrust the escape pod provided. Patchet had explained the modifications, including advanced manoeuvrability, thrusters, and basic weaponry. They had life support for weeks, which hopefully they'd never need, intending as they were, on going down to the surface of the moon below in a hurry.

  The pod shot through the atmosphere, hurtling through the outer layers, and into the inner stratosphere, Jamie ensuring they had some control of their descent. Coming into the layers of air surrounding the moon, they swung in a wide arc to avoid the immediate area of the pyramid, and flew in low over the forest. Jamie slowed their speed, and using the very basic HUD, lined the pod up with a low descent into the forest canopy nearby the pyramid. It was difficult country, given the pyramid was on a ridge top, and the slope was severe, but because he couldn't land at cleared space because it was currently occupied by valderians, he needed to get as close as possible while controlling their landing. Well, controlling enough for what was known in the book as a controlled crash landing. The one thing the pod wasn't, was a shuttle.

  Escape pods were built for hard landings, and while they were shaken, the additional manoeuvrability meant Jamie could control their landing more than usual. The pod shot through the upper canopy, surprising some parrots, and into the lower layers, thrusters deployed to slow their descent into a slight depression on the side of the mountain.

  The pod came to a halt, Dodgers looking green again, but recovering smartly, as Jamie opened the pod hatch. Dodgers sucked in air, and Jamie grinned as he swung himself through the hatch, and out into the forest itself, Dodgers following.

  The depression in the slope ran for meters across the slope of the mountain. The pod had dug a furrow, and had embedded itself into the slope. They surveyed their surroundings.

  The forest was dense, but strange. Dodgers half expected the forest of his world, but this was completely different, with fernery, and straight trees, with trees which wound themselves in weird shapes around other trees, squeezing the life out of them. It was quite cold, and although rain-forest, there was no rain, but damp leaves and debris under their feet.

  Jamie oriented himself, using his PC, searching for the direction for the pyramid. Once he had it, he waved to Dodgers, and they set out.

  Traversing the forest slope was incredibly difficult. Thick foliage, vines, and tree roots tripping them, especially Dodgers' webbed feet, and slippery mud under the litter on the surface, hampered their efforts. They continued to make slow progress, fina
lly coming to the edge of the forest, at the perimeter of the pyramid. The undergrowth changed suddenly to low bushes and scrub. Jamie cursed to himself for a moment. Had he known the going was easier on the other side of the ridge, he'd have come down there. A movement changed his mind.

  Jamie and Dodgers knew the forces surrounding the pyramid could have seen the pod come down, so would be ready. Without searching the forest, the enemy forces couldn't know where the occupants of the pod would be now, so Jamie was confident they could stay concealed until an opportunity came to get into the pyramid. But between them seemed to be a solid mass of black ugly troops.

  Luckily, it was now dark. Argathea Minor was into its night cycle. Janie was seeing clearly because his PC had augmented his eyesight to see in the dark. Dodgers had this sight naturally.

  They surveyed the enemy, which seemed to be making no attempt to hide their positions. Firing was still going on at the entrance to the pyramid, but they couldn't see it from here.

  Jamie opened a channel to the marine coms he'd been told was operating here.

  "Anyone still alive here," he asked.

  "Jamie?" answered Patters. "How did you get here?"

  "We caught a wee lift with a friend. What's happening? I need to get inside."

  "I'm trapped inside. The valderians managed to take the first level through sheer weight of numbers, and two beings made it up the stairs after Anna, Sissness, and Snark. None of them have come back yet. Our troops are slowly getting the upper hand here, and as soon as we clear out the remaining enemy in here, the Colonel and I, and a few troops with us, can be dug out of the barricade of dead bodies we have protecting us."

  "That bad?" he asked.

  "Worse. Can you wait while we mop up in here?"

  "Nae, canna do. I've a trick up mae sleave tho."

  "Well I hope it works."