by W. C. Bauers
Her HUD was offline, her faceplate cracked, and all she could see was dirt. Her left arm was bent upward at an awkward angle against the boulder, and she couldn’t move a muscle.
“The exo’s offline. Can you reboot?”
Her AI didn’t answer.
“Bond!”
Promise felt the earth shudder beneath her as the Clydesdale approached. A massive boot put down by her head, filling what vision she had.
“Lady, you’ve got the biggest pair in the ’verse. I’ll give you that before you die.”
Her HUD flickered, and then spun up. Her heart soared when she her Bond speak. “I’m online, ma’am.”
“I need power, now.”
“Your fusion plant was damaged in the fall,” her AI said. “Switching to reserves. They won’t last long.”
Promise pushed against the boulder and rolled onto her back as the Clydesdale’s knee came up. The earth shattered where she had been just a moment ago. The Clydesdale stomped again. Promise barely got both gauntlets under the massive boot, and stopped it short of crushing her chest.
“You’re only delaying the inevitable. I’m bigger than you, stronger than you, and—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Promise said over her externals. There, on her HUD, Lance Corporal Kathy Prichart was approaching fast. A burst of energy struck the Clydesdale, but its armor held. The Clydesdale stepped back and turned to face the new threat, which gave Promise time to get to her feet. She watched Kathy berserker-charge, firing a tri-barrel in one hand and a carbine in the other. The Clydesdale staggered under the weight of fire, and almost tripped over Promise as it backed up. Still it didn’t go down, and then it fired another salvo of missiles at Kathy. Kathy seemed to anticipate them and juked right, and then she stroked the trigger of her tri-barrel, which tore through the Clydesdale’s knee. One of the Clydesdale’s missiles caught her in the shoulder and took the arm off at the elbow, and the tri-barrel with it. Kathy and the Clydesdale both went down.
Promise was on her feet again, and it was now or never. She crashed into the back of the armored brute. The helmet was so large it was all she could do to loop her arms around the visor. She just managed to hook her fingers together, and squeezed with all the energy the exosuit could spare.
“Three percent power, ma’am.”
“Divert every joule to the arms.”
Promise feared it was too little too late. The driver’s good hand came up and tried to swat her off, the torso rotating wildly as it got to its knees. She held fast, felt something give. Crack. She focused all her energy there.
“No, no, get off! I’m going to ki—” Metal whined and the driver screamed as the helmet bent inward. The blood went everywhere.
“Four.”
Promise ran to Kathy’s side as the exosuit’s power reserves dropped below one percent. What was left of the chestplates opened and the bands on her arms withdrew. She pulled off the gauntlets and tossed them as she stepped out of the exo, and knelt by Kathy’s side. Kathy’s forearm was missing and the flesh above the elbow joint looked like shredded meat.
Kathy looked over at her arm in an obvious state of shock. “Uh-oh, P. That’s not good. Definitely not.” Kathy winced and arched her back in pain.
“Hold on, Kathy,” Promise said. She tried to recall the little bit of first-aid training she’d received. She was used to working with her mechsuit’s triage capabilities and her pharmocope. She didn’t have either at the moment and she was north of rusty when it came to field medicine. Access the scene. Is it safe? Promise looked around. Check. Am I safe? She checked her HUD, and the nearest hostile—make that three—was on the other side of the LAC. Safe enough. Check. Access the victim. Breathing? Check. Bleeding? Double check. She had to stop the bleeding. Most of the exosuit’s arm was missing. Jagged bone was visible and Kathy was lying in a pool of her own blood. Kathy’s head lolled to the side and her eyes glazed over. Promise drew her fixed blade and staked it to the ground. She tore off her utility belt, grabbed the knife, and cut off a small swath, which she pushed between Kathy’s teeth. “Kathy, you’ve got to bite this. This is going to hurt.”
Kathy bit down on the fabric and turned her head.
Promise made an incision at one end of the belt and fed the other through it to create an improvised tourniquet. She slipped the tourniquet over the stump, just beneath the shoulder, audibly counted to three, and pulled. Kathy’s back arched again as she screamed.
Several seconds later Kathy turned to her with unfocused eyes. “Am I going to make it, P?”
It could go either way, so Promise wasn’t lying when she said, “Yes. I’m counting on it.” She was simply betting on the best possible outcome. Life. Promise pulled a small pouch from a pocket on the arm of her beegees, and dumped the contents into Kathy’s mouth. “Nano pills. Never leave home without them.”
Nano pills were a cheap, efficient way to pump the body full of nanorobotic medics. They were a far cry from regen and a no-other-option corpsman’s best friend. In the short run, the nanobots would help seal the wound while freeing the body to divert the bulk of its resources to red-cell production. They’d also minimize the risk of infection until Kathy received medical attention. The pills also included a powerful neuroinhibitor to keep Kathy comfortable, and a cocktail of synthetic hormones to rapidly increase the body’s production of erythrocytes.
“Three hostiles are approaching from the rear of the craft,” Bond warned.
Promise looked up as another Clydesdale rounded the LAC and came into view.
Fifty-eight
MAY 25TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 1957 HOURS
THE KORAZIM SYSTEM, PLANET SHEOL
SOMEWHERE IN THE RAHAT MOUNTAIN RANGE
The Clydesdale didn’t bother aiming at her as its massive boots closed the distance, and then it slowed to a walk and stopped. Promise’s sidearms wouldn’t begin to dent armor like that, and her fixed blade would break before it made so much as scratch against tempered peristeel. Promise stood and raised both hands to her helmet. She rotated the helmet and felt the collar give, and then pulled it over her head.
“Ma’am, I strongly advise against that,” Bond said.
“Duly noted. It doesn’t matter anymore. Keep your recorder on.” Promise set the helmet down, visor toward her enemies, and let her hands fall to her sides. A man and a woman, each in unpowered armor, came up on either side of the Clydesdale, their weapons were trained on her.
“Now, now, the boss wants this one alive.” The voice sounded digitized and carried the weight of command. “If she moves, I’ll kill her. Casmir, go and cuff her.”
Casmir’s eyes never left Promise’s as he lowered his rifle. He came around the Clydesdale, handed the weapon to his shorter colleague. The woman had a severe face and thin lips that were curled upward behind her visor. Casmir’s face was unreadable behind his as he turned to face Promise. He was wearing either heavy polymer with peristeel-reinforced meshing—Promise guessed it was that by the looks of it—or, if the Greys hadn’t had the chits for that, maybe a much thicker version of nanospheroidal body armor. Either way, it was more than adequate protection against what she had at her disposal. And Casmir was covered in it, head-to-toe. Except for his face, which was shielded by a visor. That’s armorplaste for sure. She caught a glimpse of the hollow of his neck between his chestplate and helmet. His Achilles’ heel. Promise actually smiled.
Casmir pulled his sidearm before approaching Promise. “Ma’am, I don’t want any trouble. Cooperate and we’ll make this easy.” He stopped about four meters away, eyes steady as a beam and singularly focused on her. There was a sense of familiarity in them, and if Promise wasn’t mistaken he looked a bit uncomfortable. “Pull your sidearms. Toss them over there.” He gestured with the barrel of his pulse pistol.
Promise kept eye contact as she wrapped her hand around the grip of her left sidearm. Pulled slowly. Casmir had said “ma’am,” and he was being all professional. No bawdy humor. Zero thre
ats. Interesting. She drew and tossed the pistol underhanded, and then cocked her head. “How am I doing? You’re former military, aren’t you?” Her weapon landed well out of reach, and cartwheeled twice before coming to rest on its side.
Casmir’s mouth tightened. “Now the other one.” His eyes bounced to the remaining semi-auto on her hip, which she drew and tossed too. “Good, now turn around with your hands clasped behind your head.”
Promise stayed put. “How long were you in for?”
“Turn around.”
Good. She’d gotten to him if only a little bit, caught him off-guard, and the more distracted he was the easier killing him was going to be. Promise put her back to Casmir and saw her mother’s GLOCK lying next to Kathy’s good side.
“You don’t have to do this,” Promise said over her shoulder. It was a low blow aimed at whatever modicum of honor the mercenary still had left.
“Shut up … and do what you’re told.”
“Casmir, chrono’s ticking. Move it!” said the disembodied voice driving the Clydesdale .
Promise heard Casmir’s boots disturb the rocky soil as he approached.
Her GLOCK had been tucked into the flap against the small of her back, and it must have fallen out in her rush to help Kathy. Kathy had pushed herself up to a seated position against a nearby rock, and her color had largely returned. The arm was still oozing but now a translucent sheen covered the bone and exposed tissues. That was the nanobots at work. Kathy’s eyes were focused too. Another few minutes and the nanobots would have the wound completely sealed. Promise’s eyes bounced from the GLOCK to Kathy’s face, and then back to the GLOCK. Her eyes went wide, filled with understanding. Kathy’s right hand crawled to the pistol and covered it, and she slowly pulled it to her side, tucking it between her leg and the ground. Promise mouthed the words On three. Kathy nodded.
Her weight rocked to the balls of both feet. Promise mouthed the word Two.
Now Casmir’s hand was on Promise’s wrist.
One.
She spun around and knifed Casmir’s throat with a spear hand, hitting him in the Adam’s apple. Casmir coughed and raised his hands to protect his throat. It was a reflexive move, and Promise seized it, and brought her hand up and wrapped it around Casmir’s weapon. Her trigger finger covered his as she guided the barrel up and under the visor of Casmir’s helmet. Squeezed the trigger. The angle of the blast was a bit high. Casmir’s eyes rolled backward in his head as he fell limp in her arms.
The woman in unpowered armor snapped her rifle up and returned fire. She didn’t have a clear shot at Promise and ended up hitting Casmir in the back instead. Then Promise heard her GLOCK’s report shatter the air, six shots in all before she got off her own. The woman staggered backward. Promise heard the thunderclap of rounds seven and eight. Promise brought Casmir’s pulse pistol up and double-tapped the trigger, her sights on the woman’s visor. Scored direct hits. One more and she’d be through. Kathy’s ninth round hit the woman in the throat, just above the chestplate and below the protective strap on her chin, and plowed through the hollow of her neck. The woman staggered backward, dropping her rifle as her hands went to her throat. Promise dumped Casmir’s body and was running toward the Clydesdale before the female mercenary hit the ground.
Promise lunged for the discarded pulse rifle. It was her only chance of taking the Clydesdale down. Whoever was driving that thing was slow on the take. Promise closed the distance, firing at the Clydesdale’s helmet with Casmir’s pulse pistol, which was like throwing stones at a giant. She faked left. The Clydesdale spread its arms wide, to cover either side, which left its front temporarily unguarded. She got off three more shots before she was almost on top of the armored beast, and then she dove to the left and rolled underneath its massive arm. Her hand shot out and wrapped around the cool stock of the rifle. As she came up she pivoted on her feet and brought the weapon to bear, and aimed at the Clydesdale’s neck, at the weak point. The collar. A split second more and she would have gotten off the shot. The Clydesdale’s arm swung back and sent her flying through the air. The landing knocked the wind out of her lungs. Her head hit hard and her vision burst with rainbow colors. The last thing she remembered was ash and clouds and what might have been the outline of a Republican LAC and numerous silhouettes dropping from its belly. Then the blackness consumed her.
Fifty-nine
MAY 26TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 1312 HOURS
RNS NITRO, PLANET SHEOL, GEOSYNCHRONOUS ORBIT, DAYSIDE
Promise woke in the low light of the medbay of RNS Nitro to a rhythmic beep beep beep by her head. The intake above her howled as it drew up the air. She heard slippered feet shuffling across the deck. A voice spoke. She couldn’t tell if the words were meant for her, and they were garbled. Then clearer. Then, “Better get Captain Yates.” Promise opened her eyes to a blurred face and a penlight. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Hm. Not bad … all things considered. Try not to sit up, okay?” The faint inhale/exhale of a breathing machine hummed in the background. Promise tried to sit up anyway. Her side screamed immediately and told her it was best not to. Then she remembered why it hurt.
A suit of Clydesdale armor had tried to stomp her to death. She saw the metal boot mere centimeters from her skull, and the aggressive tread that had almost ground her into paste. She remembered thinking, This is it. The merc had pulled back when Kathy charged. Then Kathy was on the ground bleeding, her arm torn off, and Promise was at her side administering first aid. Her exosuit had lost power and they’d been surrounded. Another suit of Clydesdale armor towered over her. After that the details got fuzzy. She probed her side and inhaled sharply. But I’m still here. Guess that means someone else got him. Kathy? Promise’s head snapped up, her heart in her throat. The room started to swim and bile filled her mouth. There, to her right in the next bay over, was a sleeping Lance Corporal Kathy Prichart. Promise breathed a sigh of relief. Kathy’s left arm was a bandaged stump and her face was badly cut. Otherwise she looked okay. Promise took a deep breath before letting her head fall back into the pillow.
The beep beep beep didn’t let up. “Can someone please shut that off?” She rolled to the side to investigate. Dared to open her eyes. A flat-screen monitor showed the outline of her body and there were an inordinate number of orange highlights from her cracked head to her broken toe. A lot of damage. Here we go again, Promise thought. She tried wiggling her foot. The screen indicated major damage. Strange that it didn’t hurt at all. That was something.
She had a skull fracture, on the right side this time to match the one she sustained on the left side during her battles on Montana. Which explains why my head is pounding, again. Okay … that’s serious … my last one wasn’t too bad and my brain recovered just fine. I’ll live.
Her leg had taken damage; the kneecap had split in two. My leg’s been hurt worse than that. That’s what quickheal is for. What else?
She had broken ribs. Tell me something I don’t know, Promise thought as she probed her side. They were wrapped tightly and she didn’t feel much like breathing, and the beep beep beep was still harassing her.
“Please, shut that off before I get up and do it myself.” She heard movement, and then silence.
She had a lacerated kidney. Fine, I’ll piss red until I don’t.
Her left wrist was broken in three spots and she was missing her … “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Promise said aloud. She raised her right hand and saw double for a moment. Saw the bandage and more fingers than she actually had on one hand. When it all came into focus she felt like punching someone in the jaw. Her middle finger was MIA, nothing but a stub, and her brain was telling her it was still there. She even swore she could feel them bend around a phantom trigger, but where flesh and bone had been before she’d fallen unconscious there was only recycled air now. If the driver of the Clydesdale isn’t dead already I’m going to kill him myself.
“Just noticed that, huh.” Captain Yates drew up beside Promise’s bed. “Promise, you
are one crazy jane and a glutton for punishment.” Yates turned toward the monitor and pursed her lips. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Promise said. “Well, I’ll be fine.” She didn’t know how to take the crazy jane comment. What is that supposed to mean? The captain couldn’t possibly know she heard voices in her head, or that she talked to her dead mother on a semiregular basis. Could she? Promise wondered. Then Yates’s stern façade cracked.
“Lighten up, Lieutenant. That was a joke. Maybe the doc needs to do another scan of your jelly.”
Promise forced a smile. “I’m just glad to be alive.”
“You and the lance corporal probably saved the pilot and copilot’s life by going out there in exosuits. Probably saved the LAC too. You did good work on Kathy’s arm. Otherwise, she would have bled out.” Yates’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “I can’t believe you actually fought a couple of Clydesdales in exosuits. Exosuits. God knows what might have happened if those metal behemoths had intercepted Second Platoon after the colonel ordered them to secure the LAC. Something tells me they wouldn’t have fared nearly as well as you did. Why is that?”
“Ma’am?”
