by Evan Currie
She nodded approvingly as she appraised each in turn, liking what she was seeing. She hadn’t expected anything else, of course; everyone assigned to the SOL knew the way the game was played. Everyone had generic mil-spec load-bearing gear, battle rifles, and sidearms. It would do for the moment, though most of them would be staying near the shuttle anyway.
Sorilla herself was in SOLCOM armor, with the heat settings running at local temperatures to help her acclimate. If worst came to worst, she could kick in the climate control and cool down her core in a hurry, but she would prefer not to do that if it could be avoided. Her sidearms were belted on, one hanging low on her right tight, the other belted in a cross draw along the front of her waist.
She’d seen that the locals often carried two pistols, which was likely just bravado for the most part as humans couldn’t particularly use two guns effectively at the same time and it was usually faster and more effective to just reload than to fumble around with a second gun. She was an exception to that rule, however, so she didn’t mind playing into the local culture, as with her implants she could actually engage multiple targets simultaneously with little issue.
Over the armor she’d tossed a poncho the SOL’s logistics team had fabricated based on the local pictures she had brought back from the briefing.
All in all it was rather Hollywood Western, in her opinion, but that was to be expected given the nature of the culture that founded the world below.
“Okay, people, we’re going down on a soft recon,” she said. “We will be hosting a contingent of Alliance soldiers, likely all Sentinels. However, I will be keeping them back and out of our initial operation on the excuse that I want to see how the locals react to new human faces and would rather not deal with any baggage the Alliance is bringing along with them.”
The faces surrounding her nodded, understanding that.
“That’s the excuse, and a good reason,” she said, “but I also want to have a few words with the locals out of earshot of any Alliance personnel while I have a chance. So, with that in mind, make sure everyone scans everything for listening devices and transmitters. Alliance frequencies are in your implants, but don’t get complacent. They’re at least as tricky as we are, and I think we all know just how tricky that is.”
The men laughed openly.
“Most importantly, do not antagonize the Sentinels. They’re here to do a job, but it’s not the job. They’re action junkies as far as I’m concerned. Good at what they do, but they don’t do what we do,” she told everyone. “So show them a little pity for the obvious learning disability they’re suffering from and try to make allowances.”
More laughter.
“Don’t take that as permission to patronize them,” she warned, her tone dropping a few degrees. “They’re not idiots. Treat them like you would special teams from a host nation—a top-tier host nation.”
They nodded, understanding that. Oftentimes what passed for special teams were anything but. However, they’d all been guests in other world powers on Earth. You didn’t get far if you were dumb enough to disrespect the Russian Spetsnaz or Chinese Special Operations Forces to their faces, whatever you thought of their methods.
“I catch anyone deliberately pissing off the Lucians, I will have you bounced back to Earth and your deep space clearance burned. Am I clear?”
Sorilla looked around intently, but saw none of the signs that anyone was inclined to ignore her. She hadn’t expected it, honestly. The people SOLCOM had picked for this mission were the sorts who would normally be assigned to work with people they personally detested; it was part of the job all too often.
“Good. Mount up!”
The team quickly filed into the shuttle as she watched, along with Major Strickland, until everyone was onboard. She then followed Strickland onboard and stood on the ramp as it was pulled up into the belly of the shuttle.
One quick stop and they would be mission-operable.
Oddly enough, she found herself both dreading it and looking forward to it. There had been a time, once, when she would have just been looking forward to it. Of course, she’d been younger and dumber back then, and not in charge of anything.
Simpler times.
Sorilla missed them.
*****
Kriss watched as the Terran shuttle once again opened up in the hangar of the Parithalian ship, the ramp coming down amid the hiss of escaping atmosphere. Instead of the expected guards, though, only two humans appeared. One he knew, of course, and the other had been at the greeting ceremony and meeting the night before but hadn’t spoken.
“Sentinel Kriss,” Aida had said quietly as she approached. “It is good to see you again, now that we’re not surrounded by politicians.”
Kriss grinned, exposing teeth that tended to make even Alliance people uneasy. She didn’t even flinch, just grinning back in kind. Kriss rather liked the Terrans, in all honesty, though he suspected that he was being unduly affected by his limited interactions with them.
“Political niceties do tend to cloud meetings between friends,” he agreed.
“Indeed,” she said, turning her focus to the team he’d assembled. “All Sentinels, I presume?”
Kriss nodded, gesturing to the rank of a dozen Lucians with him. “Of course. My personal squad.”
Aida nodded, gesturing to the other human with her. “This is my aide, Major Strickland.”
“Major,” Kriss nodded, looking the other human over briefly before focusing again on Aida. “My men are ready to deploy…Light Colonel, is it now?”
“Lieutenant Colonel,” Aida nodded, a hint of something on her face that he couldn’t place. Human emotions were often difficult for Kriss to decode. “It is a recent elevation. And, please, we have room for your men prepared.”
Kriss turned to the Sentinels. “Boarding! Single file! Take the places the Terrans show you. Cause no trouble!”
That last order was necessary, he knew, not because the Sentinels present had anything against the humans, but rather because they’d heard about the fighting during the war but hadn’t had a chance to partake themselves. Most of them wanted to test the mettle of the enemy “Sentinels,” and Aida’s reputation among Lucians had been set by Kriss’s own reports. Any group she was commanding would not be the normal rank and file of the Terran military.
Once his men had embarked, Kriss followed Strickland up the ramp while Aida took up the rearguard position.
*****
The shuttle was packed. Between the two groups of soldiers and all the gear they’d loaded on, there wasn’t much room to do more than breathe, but for Sorilla, who was used to being stuffed into an oversized shotgun shell and fired out of a magnetic accelerator for orbital insertions…well, it was positively roomy.
Everyone else was dealing with it, to varying degrees, as the shuttle hit turbulence in the upper atmosphere. Sorilla found herself amused at the sight of Special Forces literally bumping shoulders with Alliance Sentinels, neither group quite willing to entirely acknowledge the other as their guts jumped into their throats when the shuttle dropped into a rough freefall.
“Five minutes to LZ,” the pilot said over the intercom, mostly in deference to their guests. “Secure for deceleration.”
“We’re good,” Sorilla said. “Hit the brakes before we hit the ground.”
“Roger that.”
Her spine was suddenly compressed as the shuttle hit retro thrust hard, slamming her and everyone else into their seats as the shuttle decelerated. It wasn’t remotely as hard as a combat drop, but there was no point showing the Alliance the real specifications of the shuttle if they didn’t have to. They might need that ace in the deck for another time.
The flight smoothed out quickly, and she could feel the acceleration curve through her implant suite with enough precision that she didn’t need to consult the computers to determine their path.
They’d chosen to land at a local field rather than the secured Alliance facility, primarily to differe
ntiate themselves from the Alliance from the get-go. Getting clearance from the locals had been surprisingly easy, as they were apparently pretty slack about air corridors.
Also helps that they didn’t bother to develop much in the way of an air force, given they don’t have anyone to bomb, I suppose.
The shuttle settled in easily a few minutes later, sinking into the dirt pad as the weight of the bird was focused on the four large pylons below. Sorilla felt a wash of hot air bring an instant sweat to her forehead as the ramp seal broke and it started to drop. She was walking down it before it stopped, stepping out onto the arid and dusty ground as she looked around.
It was a fairly typical airfield, she determined at a glance. A few long runs for cargo planes, a bunch of short ones and pads for VTOL and VSTOL craft. The shuttle was sitting on one of the pads, and not one of the nice ones. Sorilla blinked away a little dust from her eyes, flipping a pair of wraparound glasses from under her poncho and slipping them on.
“Feels like a third world shithole,” one of the men said as the team stepped off behind her.
“I thought it felt like New Mexico,” another answered.
“I stand by my statement.”
Sorilla shot the first speaker an annoyed look. Having grown up between New and Old Mexico, she didn’t appreciate the implication, but, frankly, they were both right.
“Shut it,” she told them anyway. “Locals might hear you.”
And they were garnering a bit of a crowd, so that was more than possible in all actuality. She scanned them all quickly, getting facial rec data while analyzing the genotype based on bone structure.
Most of them were of clearly European original stock, though the high local UV index seemed to have darkened everyone’s skin to a tan that matched her own pretty well. Given her decidedly mixed racial background, Sorilla found that rather amusing. She twirled her finger vertically in the air, telling her team to get unpacking, and casually walked over to the closest onlooker.
“There someone in charge of the field here?” she asked.
“You speak English?” The man seemed surprised, looking past her. “But you came with them, and I’ve never seen a ship like yours before.”
Sorilla glanced over her shoulder to where the Lucians were disembarking, then shrugged and turned back.
“This world was annexed by the Alliance,” she said. “Earth signed a truce with them a few years ago now, but they don’t like us flying around their space without a minder. Which is fair enough. We don’t let them fly around our space at all if we can help it.”
The man’s eyes snapped to her intently. “You’re from Earth?”
“That a problem?”
He looked her over, then past her to the rest of her group and the shuttle.
“No,” he said finally. “Just a little surprised. We sort of thought everything had likely gone to hell back home after we left. Didn’t look all that good when we left, according to the histories.”
“Had its moments,” Sorilla admitted. “Still does, but we get by. We always seem to. About the guy in charge, by the way?”
The man just waved toward a squat building in the distance. “Just go sign in over there. You’re responsible for the security of your own ship and any goods you’ve brought. Other than that, not too many rules around here.”
Sorilla nodded, unsurprised. “Thanks.”
She waved casually as she walked past, heading for the building he’d pointed her to.
Definitely a libertarian lean here, she decided as she made her way into the building.
She wasn’t too worried about security for the shuttle. If a squad of Lucians and a couple A-teams from the Fifth weren’t enough to secure the shuttle, the trouble was likely a lot deeper than it had appeared to be. In that case, they had the SOL’s Marines, not to mention her long guns.
She looked around for anyone in the building, but didn’t see a soul, so Sorilla rapped her armored knuckles on the wall.
“Hey! Anyone here?” she called out.
“Hang on a minute, hold your damn engines.”
Bemused by the response, Sorilla leaned on the wall until an old man with white hair and a craggy face appeared.
“What do ya need?” he asked, wiping his hands on his shirt as he appeared from a side door.
“Looking to sign in,” Sorilla told him. “Just landed.”
He snorted, looking out the window. “That shiny bird belong to you?”
“It belongs to SOLCOM,” she said honestly. “I’m just the one who got to sign for it this time.”
“Solcom? Never heard of it,” the man said, pulling out an old paper book and sliding it, along with a pen, over to her. “That a company?”
“International organization,” Sorilla said, grabbing up the pen and taking a moment to scan the page she was looking at into memory, both to learn the format expected and to see who else had signed in.
“Inter-what?” the man asked, clearly confused.
Sorilla scribbled her name, along with the tail ID of the shuttle, into the provided space. “International. As in multi-governmental group. SOLCOM is Earth’s Solar Military Organization.”
That brought his eyes back to her in a flash, wide and piercing.
“You joking?” he demanded, snagging the book and twisting it around to look at what she’d written.
“Do I look like a comedian?”
“You sound like a crazy person,” he countered, looking up from the book to examine her more closely. “What is a lady from Earth doing out this far?”
“Heard about you folk here,” she said, unconsciously adopting the familiar drawl she had once spoken as her native tongue, growing up in the south of the U.S. and the north of Mexico. “Figured we’d check in and see what was up.”
“Things were nice and peaceful, until those friends of yours showed up,” he said coolly, looking out to where the Lucians were standing by the shuttle.
“Tell me about it,” Sorilla laughed. “We only stopped trying to kill each other a few years ago…well, out in the open at least. I expect we still have our moments in the shadows, but that’s how these things go.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, fought a whole war with the Alliance,” she said. “But I don’t suppose you got much news about that here.”
He snorted. “You could say that again. Most of the time they don’t even seem to care that we’re here, which is better than when they do.”
“Of course. You never ran into the Ghoulies, though, did you?”
He frowned. “The what?”
“Alliance folk call them Ross’El,” she said. “Little short grey fuckers with big heads.”
He laughed, but shook his head. “Never seen ‘em.”
“Didn’t think so, or you’d hate the Alliance a lot more than you’re showing,” Sorilla said. “The Alliance don’t much like the Ross either, of course, but they would rather keep those bastards where they can see them coming from a long way off.”
“That bad?” The man seemed skeptical.
“That bad. Their idea of dealing with snipers involves nuclear weapons,” Sorilla told him. “And ‘civilians’ ain’t a word in their language, far as we can tell.”
“Ouch. Seriously?”
Sorilla nodded, casually leaning on the counter. “Yeah, they rolled into Hayden—one of our worlds—came up on the night-side and took out the orbital tether. From there they drove everyone out of the main colony site into the jungle. People on Hayden spent the next two years fighting a guerilla war before SOLCOM managed to clear the skies and they drove the Ghoulies off the surface. It was touch-and-go for a while, to be honest.”
“You’re terribly free with information,” the man said, sounding suspicious.
Sorilla chuckled openly. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is public stuff at home, friend. Headline news.”
The man nodded slowly.
“What brings you to Arkana?” he asked finally, pronouncing the word “Arkahna,” a
s Sorilla had expected.
“Alliance finally admitted there were human worlds out here,” Sorilla said. “So SOLCOM got permission to come out here and take a peek.”
“Going to claim us?” the man asked, almost but not quite sneering, though she detected a real hint of curiosity there.
Sorilla shook her head. “Not likely. Politically we don’t have the power, and militarily it’s an open secret that while we’re too strong for the Alliance to take without dedicating far more of their military than they are willing to…we’re not strong enough to take them either.”
“So we’re stuck, are we?”
“Seems like,” Sorilla agreed, walking to the window and looking out. “On the plus side, it’s not a bad world you have here. A little hot for most tastes, but we saw the city from orbit. Nice little river delta, looks like the Nile actually.”
“That’s what the history books say,” the man agreed. “And the world is home, don’t know what else to say about it.”
“Trust me, there are worse planets out there.” Sorilla smiled. “Ares folded during the war. Survivors left, no one wants to go back.”
“Never heard of it.”
“After your time,” she told him. “Mars-type world. Mining colony mostly. Ghost town now, and probably forever.”
She looked out the window, noticing the SOLCOM APC rolling out of the shuttle drop ship.
“Well, my ride is down,” she said, walking over to the door.
She paused, glancing back to tip her head.
“Have a good day.”
Chapter 6
“What was that about?” Strickland asked as Sorilla climbed up on the squat six-wheeled APC. “Why’d you tell him all that?”
“Why not?” Sorilla asked, having noted him listening in via her implants. “If we were trying a stealth infiltration, we would have landed way out in the sticks. We don’t have time for stealth. We need intel quickly, and that means we need people to know that we’re looking…and if you need people to know you’re about, can you think of a better person to tell than the guy in charge of a transport hub?”
