Alien War Trilogy 1: Hoplite

by Isaac Hooke

  Tahoe hastily surveyed the compartment, searching for something he had spotted earlier. There. An environmental suit in a nearby open locker. Likely Rebecca’s.

  “Watch him,” Tahoe told TJ. He made his way to the closet and grabbed the suit, scooping up the helmet. He returned and began dressing Rebecca.

  “Wait, that’s mine!” the man said urgently.

  “Where’s her suit then?” Tahoe said. He felt no compunction at all.

  “They took it,” the man replied.

  “The elusory they again.” Tahoe finished pulling on her leg and waist assemblies, then shrugged on the torso and connected the arm assemblies. The suit was a bit loose for her, but it would do. He attached the helmet. The interface was standard UC, and he was able to remotely pressurize it.

  “That’s the only suit.” The man glanced at the ever-deflating fabric of the dome. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Tahoe didn’t have any respect for traitors to humanity. “Guess you better hurry and patch the holes.”

  He carried Rebecca to the airlock. TJ followed him, keeping his blaster pointed at the man.

  “You can’t abandon me like this,” the man said. “I won’t open the outer hatch for you.”

  The inner hatch was still open, so Tahoe entered the airlock with TJ. He held Rebecca close.

  “You won’t open the hatch?” Tahoe said. “Then we’ll shoot our way out.”

  He pointed his blaster at the outer hatch.

  Unsurprisingly, the inner hatch immediately sealed and the air vented.

  Tahoe glanced at his map and saw that his mech and TJ’s had been driven from the airlock.

  “Hunts With Cougars, I need a pick up,” Tahoe transmitted.

  The outer hatch opened.

  The battle was ongoing outside.

  Tahoe switched back to the thermal band and lowered Rebecca so he could assume a support position near the outer rim of the airlock. He fired off some shots as a scorpion raced past.

  The scorpion spun toward him, and curled its tail backward to fire.

  The enemy robot was abruptly bashed aside. Tahoe’s Hoplite dashed onto the scene, along with TJ’s.

  “About time,” Tahoe sent it.

  “Sorry,” the AI returned.

  While TJ’s mech provided cover, Hunts With Cougars knelt and opened its cockpit. Tahoe used his jetpack to bring Rebecca quickly to the passenger seat, where he secured her.

  “You’re going to be all right, Lieutenant,” Tahoe transmitted.

  She didn’t answer.

  He leaped into the cockpit and the inner actuators surrounded him as the chamber sealed.

  He provided covering fire for TJ while the MOTH loaded into his own mech, then the two of them piloted their Hoplites behind the adjacent dome.

  “Got her!” Tahoe transmitted.

  “Coming to you,” Rade sent. “And then we’re getting the hell out of here.”

  The final two scorpions went down and the rest of the squad caught up with Tahoe and TJ. Only five combat robots remained, and the same number of HS3s. The Hoplites had varying degrees of damage, though it was mostly dents and the occasional scorch mark. Most seemed fully functional, except for Keelhaul, who hopped on one foot.

  Manic apparently realized that Tahoe was gazing at Keelhaul, because he spoke up.

  “He’s gone and changed mech class on us,” Manic said. “Keelhaul’s dropped the lite, and now pilots a Hop. The first and only transforming mech class.”

  “Let’s go people, before any reinforcements come!” Rade transmitted. “HS3s, Centurions, lead the way.” He glanced at Tahoe’s passenger section. “How is she?”

  “Still unconscious,” Tahoe said. “I had her suit inject a waking agent, but she hasn’t responded. I don’t know what they did to her. I found a crew member from the John A. McDonald in there, I think. He was helping the aliens subdue her. But he wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

  “Where is he now?” Rade asked.

  Tahoe nodded toward the deflated dome. “Dead.”

  “All right, let’s go!” Rade said. “Marching formation, best speed! We’ve stayed long enough.”

  eighteen

  Rade was relieved his squad had rescued Vicks without any losses. Though he had come fairly close to losing some men back there. That unexpected missile attack right at the start had nearly cost Keelhaul more than a damaged Hoplite, for example. And there were some other close calls after that, and some bad luck: they had lost the powerful M7 along with the Centurion carrying it, both destroyed in a single blast. But all of his MOTH brothers had pulled through, and that was all that mattered.

  No longer caring about the noise they produced, the Hoplites moved at their fastest possible speed westward through the jungle, taking the same route their passage had carved through the foliage earlier. Their two-ton machines had formed a decent trail the first time through, making the return trip far easier. Only Keelhaul had some difficulties, as he had to “hop” his mech forward on one leg. Even with the onboard AI to assist him, he toppled every few minutes. But thus far he had refused any offers of assistance.

  Rade had ordered the remaining HS3s and Centurions to encompass the group in a wide cigar shape to act as peripheral scouts and hopefully forewarn them of any ambushers. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough of the robots to cover every attack vector.

  About ten minutes into the march, TJ spoke up. “Aft HS3s are detecting pursuers.”

  Rade glanced at his overhead map. Red dots had begun to appear.

  “Scorpion units,” TJ continued. “I’m counting fifteen so far. But more are appearing by the second.”

  “We can’t outrun them,” Fret said.

  “No, we can’t,” Rade agreed. “Into the trees, people. We hide. Low power mode. Radio silence, and LIDAR off.”

  “Our heat signatures will still be visible in the dark,” Manic said.

  “Then choose your hides very carefully,” Rade responded. “Pick spots that aren’t visible from the ground. TJ, have the Centurions and HS3s move into the trees as well.”

  Rade approached a tree that was about twice as broad as his Hoplite and hurried to the western side, away from the incoming enemy. He climbed until he stood on an upper bough four meters from the jungle floor. The branch was about the same thickness as his mech. Perfect. He huddled close to the wide tree trunk and waited.

  He heard a few more cracking branches as other members of the squad moved into position. Keelhaul was the last; he seemed to be having trouble.

  “Need some help, Keelhaul?” Rade asked.

  “Nope, I got this,” Keelhaul replied.

  “He’s going to hop his way up,” Manic said over the comm. He snickered.

  “Radio silence, Manic,” Rade said with as stern a tone as he could manage.

  Finally Keelhaul took his place on the upper branches of a nearby tree.

  Quietude descended.

  A distant rustling reached Rade’s hearing courtesy of his helmet speakers. It quickly grew in volume as nearby branches broke away and foliage was trampled underfoot. The scorpions were moving fast.

  Rade instinctively held his breath when he spotted the thermal outline of the first scorpion crawling past below. The movements were decidedly insect-like, and he found himself amazed at the ease with which those four legs navigated the uneven jungle floor. He could understand why the robots moved so fast in that terrain.

  More robots followed in waves, and he was suddenly glad he had elected to hide rather than stand and fight. There had to be hundreds down there. Called in from the barracks of some other nearby camp, no doubt. Who could say how many more bases those robots had scattered throughout the jungle? He was only glad there hadn’t been so many guarding Vicks. Either the enemy was overconfident, or these robots had already been on their way to the camp before the squad attacked. Rade suspected the former.

  When the last of the scorpions passed, Rade exhaled in silent relief. He waited another fiftee
n minutes, then broke radio silence. Before he spoke, he set his transmitter to the lowest possible setting.

  “All right people,” Rade said. “We’re going to stay here another forty-five minutes before we move out.”

  “Waiting to see if they’ll come back?” Manic asked.

  “Or if more arrive,” Rade answered. He paused. “I don’t think we need radio silence. But reduce the power of your transmitters to the lowest levels.”

  The group remained quiet for the next several minutes, despite that Rade had lifted the radio silence order.

  He checked the lieutenant’s vitals after authorizing himself with her new suit. She seemed fine, though she remained in a coma.

  He tapped in Tahoe for a private conversation. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine,” Tahoe said. “Thank you for not ordering us to abandon her back there.”

  “I had to continue,” Rade said. “When it became obvious she’d stopped, and remained in signal range.”

  “I could have tracked her even if we lost her signal,” Tahoe said.

  “I know you could have.”

  “I’m sorry for what I did,” Tahoe said. “Throwing around an expensive mech like that, pitting it against the Hoplite of my best friend. That was entirely unlike me. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Rade transmitted. “We’re cut off from the rest of our platoon. Surrounded by enemies in an alien jungle. We’re stressed out, to say the least. It’s no surprise emotions are running high.”

  “Even so, I shouldn’t have fought you,” Tahoe replied. “You of all people. My LPO. And my friend. Not for a woman. Especially not for someone like Lieutenant Vicks. She’s not my wife.” He paused. “I said some things back there. Things I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I said a few things I regret, too,” Rade told his friend. “Let’s just pretend the whole thing never happened, all right? Our logs are already purged. Let’s purge our memories, too.”

  “Easier said than done,” Tahoe sent. “I’ll do my best to get over my guilt. Just tell me you forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you.” Rade paused. “Do you really think I’ve grown more distant now that I’m your LPO?”

  “I told you, I didn’t mean what I said,” Tahoe answered.

  “I know you didn’t,” Rade said. “But sometimes, the things we say in anger are closer to the truth than we care to admit. It’s not going to hurt me, Tahoe. I’m a man. I can take it. Just tell me.”

  It sounded like Tahoe sighed over the line. “All right,” Tahoe said. “The truth is, you have grown distant. To a degree. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You have to lead us, now. You can’t get too close to any one of us, lest it cloud your judgment at some critical juncture.”

  “I disagree,” Rade said. “I think my friendship with you and the others makes my judgment clearer. I don’t want to endanger my brothers, and my decisions reflect that, hopefully. Why do you think I was pressing so hard to abandon Vicks in the first place? Not because I wanted her to suffer at the hands of her captors, but because it was becoming too dangerous for us to continue the pursuit.”

  “What are you going to do,” Tahoe said. “When someday you’re forced to sacrifice some of us, so that the rest may live?”

  “I hope that day never comes,” Rade said grimly.

  “Didn’t your LPO exam pose a similar question?” Tahoe asked.

  “It did,” Rade replied. “And I gave the answer that was expected: of course I’ll sacrifice the few to save the many. Yet that was just a test. Something administered through virtual reality. It wasn’t real. And that’s the crux of it: I don’t know if I could bear to do that very thing in the field, if the time came. I don’t think I could leave one of us behind. Some lieutenant who I barely know is one thing, but a brother I’ve fought and bled beside? Tahoe, it would destroy me.”

  “Then maybe you’re not fit to be LPO,” Tahoe said rather harshly.

  Rade didn’t answer. What did Tahoe expect him to say?

  “You have to be strong, Rade,” Tahoe said. “In the coming days. Promise me you’ll do that.”

  Rade sighed. “I’ll be strong.” But those were just words, something intangible, unreal, like the exam. Tahoe couldn’t understand the burden of command. None of them could. TJ yearned for it, and probably hated Rade because of his position, but if only he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be so full of resentment. In that moment Rade found himself wishing more than ever that he was merely a grunt, and that TJ was in charge.

  His eyes were drawn once again to the lieutenant’s vitals on his HUD.

  “You know, I still feel like it’s my fault she was kidnapped in the first place,” Rade said. “I looked away for only a moment, and then she was gone. I should have never let her down from the passenger seat. But she wanted to study the ruins. And I let her.”

  “That was the whole reason we took her along,” Tahoe said. “So she could study this alien world. If she was kidnapped, the fault was hers alone.”

  Their conversation died at that.

  A few minutes later Fret at last broke the general silence and spoke up over the comm: “So Keelhaul, is this everything you expected when you joined up?”

  Keelhaul chuckled softly. “This, and then some.”

  “Why did you join up?” Manic said. “And don’t tell me you’re one of those who volunteered.”

  “No, I’m an immigrant,” Keelhaul said. “Forced enlistment, like most of you. I’m Czech.”

  “Ah, time to enlist in the UC Navy,” Manic said, mimicking his accent. “Czech that off from my bucket list.”

  “You’ve been with us six months,” Tahoe said. “And it took you all this time to reveal your nationality? Where have you been?”

  “Normally something like that would have been revealed during hazing,” Manic said. “But he got to skip that, seeing as he came from Team Eight.”

  “He never really hangs around with us after hours, either,” Fret said. “Kind of a loner. What’s the matter, we’re too good for you, Keelhaul?”

  “Not at all,” Keelhaul said. “It’s just, well, I never really felt like I fit in with you guys. I hadn’t had a chance to prove myself in combat, and I knew if I went out with you I’d be a fifth wheel. And I prefer working out to drinking anyway.”

  “Goodie two shoes,” Manic said.

  “I want to hear more about his background,” Rade said, mostly for the benefit of the others, as he knew all about Keelhaul already—one of the privileges of his rank.

  “I didn’t join the MOTHs right away when I signed up,” Keelhaul continued. “After graduation, I was handpicked by the Special Collection Service. I worked to hunt down terrorists who sought to infiltrate our country by joining the military as immigrants. I also hunted down Sino-Korean moles. I got so good at it that I developed a special algorithm that automated most of it, helping detect ninety percent of terrorists and moles at the application stage. Anyway, by that point, there were no more major challenges to solve in my position, and I got bored. So I signed up for the Teams and the rest is history.”

  “Why’d you transfer from Team Eight?” Skullcracker asked somewhat disinterestedly. “Your chief didn’t like you?”

  “No, I actually put in for the transfer myself,” Keelhaul said. “I don’t know if you realize it, but Team Seven is renowned throughout the Teams. Every MOTH wants to join. The waiting list is huge, mostly because you guys get the best missions.”

  “We get the best missions because we’re the best,” Skullcracker said.

  “Exactly,” Keelhaul said. “Everyone knows about your exploits. What you did in the last alien war, well, it’s the stuff of legends.”

  “Waiting list is huge, you say?” Manic asked. “Then how did you get on Team Seven? You sucked off Lieutenant Commander Braggs?”

  “Basically,” Keelhaul said. “Though I’d like to think it was for my qualifications. During my Mongolia d
eployment, I racked up the most sniping kills of anyone in the military. Ever.”

  “I didn’t know Braggs was gay,” Fret said. He added as an apparent afterthought: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “Hey, if you’re the one being sucked, you’re not gay,” TJ said.

  “You talking from experience, TJ?” Tahoe piped in.

  “Nope,” TJ said, and left it at that.

  “So that means Keelhaul is gay, if he sucked Braggs,” Fret said.

  “Yup,” TJ said.

  “Don’t worry, Keelhaul,” Manic said in obvious mock sympathy. “We accept you.”

  “So what if I’m gay?” Keelhaul replied. “I still eat pussy.”

  “Wait, what?” Fret said. “How can you eat pussy if you’re gay?”

  “‘Cuz it tastes good?” Keelhaul answered. “Oh and, I’ve got something I’ve been wanting to tell you all. Ever since I joined Team Seven, I’ve been in love with Manic. I’ve never met a man with such a big pussy. May I eat it, Manic?”

  Manic remained silent. Rade was biting back his laughter, and judging from the barely suppressed snickers he heard over the line, he wasn’t the only one.

  Manic apparently decided to roll with it. “I love you, too, Keelhaul. When this is through, let’s get hitched. On our honeymoon, I’ll let you eat my shaved pussy for hours. I’ll let you munch and munch until the pubes grow into stubble and start to get lodged between your teeth.”

  “A man’s got to floss,” Keelhaul said. “Might as well use pussy stubble.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m fighting with warriors,” Tahoe said. “Or a Team of juveniles. Eating the stubble of each other’s pussies. Sheesh. Man up, people.”

  “You first, Tahoe,” Keelhaul taunted.

  The time passed uneventfully. The forty-five minute mark came and went. The scorpions didn’t return, nor did more arrive.

  “They likely made their way to Gray Gate,” Tahoe said. “Facehopper is probably staving off the attack even now.”