by Mark Wandrey
He had a few bandages from the thrashing he’d gotten when his suit exploded. Most were just there to let the nanite therapy finish its work, but she still gingerly touched them, then his cheek. Never had another’s touch felt so good to him.
“I want to talk,” he said and gently detached himself from her, “but give me a minute to do my commander thing?” She looked nonplused and backed up. “Corporal Glazer?” he called.
“Sir?”
“Start unloading the APCs and personnel for movement to the city.” The corporal saluted and Jim accessed the radio through his pinplants to call Hargrave. “You’re never going to guess what I found,” he said and quickly explained the situation.
“That Captain Winslow was a resourceful bastard,” Hargrave said after Jim was done. “I knew it was possible, but didn’t dare hope. I was in my suit just like you and didn’t have a good view when Traveler was hit.”
“I have the APCs unloading, and we’ve got just enough room for everyone, including crew, to fit in seven. I’m taking the eighth APC and my bodyguard, and we’re going to check out the other two hull sections.”
“Roger that,” Hargrave replied. “We’ll get ready to receive the survivors. We’re still trying to contact any friendly forces in space. No joy yet, but we’ll keep trying. Keep me apprised, please.”
“Will do,” Jim said and signed off.
As soon as the first APC was unloaded and fired up, Jim took it and his guards to head for the next signal, sending Bob back in the skimmer. No need to keep him now that Jim had proper transport. Adayn joined him in the commander’s compartment where they had some privacy at last. She hadn’t let him out of her sight since the cargo doors opened.
“I still can’t believe you are alive,” she said as soon as they were alone.
“You were worried about me?” he asked. She nodded and started to cry again. Was she ever going to stop?
“I was afraid you were gone, and before I could...I mean before we even had a chance to...”
“What?” he persisted.
“Jim, you are so clueless!” she moaned. “I kept trying to hint that I like you, and you just kept ignoring me.”
“I didn’t—”
“Clearly,” she pouted, finally getting her crying under control.
“No, dammit,” he barked. “I was going to say I didn’t have the guts to tell you I like you, too!” She blinked for a second.
“Y-you do?”
“Yes!” he said. “I was trying to tell you at my birthday party when you gave me the watch.” He held up his wrist to show her he was wearing it. “It just all...oh, hell! Why would you think I didn’t?”
“Because of how you acted at the party; like you didn’t want to talk to me. Besides, you’re a merc commander, rich and powerful. I’m a nobody, and I’m older than you.”
“I don’t care how old you are,” he said, then thought she had no idea how little money he had. Especially since his ship just blew up. He took a deep breath, screwed his courage up, and spoke. “So, Adayn Christopher, will you be my girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend?” she said, a laugh in her voice. She fell into his arms again, put her lips next to his ear, and whispered, “Jim, I want to screw your brains out.” He almost fainted right there. She kissed him again. Her body curved against him, and her thigh pushed against his erection. Oh, God, he thought. They spent a few fun minutes kissing while the APC rumbled across the countryside.
“Hey,” Adayn said eventually, “Where’s my little Watchmaker?”
“She’s back at the city working on damaged suits.” She suddenly looked at him askance.
“Jim, where’s your suit?”
* * * * *
Chapter 34
The APC ground across the fields throwing up clods of dirt behind it as it went. The six big wheels, all independently driven, could cover almost any terrain.
Jim helped himself to some light combat armor from the APC’s locker, as well as a shoulder-fired laser rifle. Prior to that, he’d only had his C-Tech GP-90. It had proved a good gun, but it would be useless against an armored trooper. Besides, he technically owned all this stuff.
For safety’s sake, he had Adayn armor up as well. It was a combat zone, and now that he had a girlfriend he didn’t want her getting shot. She’d tried to look angry at him for losing yet another combat suit, but she couldn’t help smiling whenever they made eye contact. Their new relationship had the same effect on him. Of course, since he’d never had a girlfriend before, he wasn’t sure how to act. And her plans for him...oh, wow! He hadn’t felt this nervous since his first combat in a CASPer.
The rear of the APC was mostly empty, with only the two suited troopers back there. Ordinarily he would have had a larger crew accompanying him for such a foray while hostilities were still underway, even if the action was some distance away. Momentarily safe inside the APC’s thick armor, Jim basked in the glow of knowing that Adayn felt the same about him as he did about her. Adayn caught a glimpse of his goofy grin out of the corner of her eye, turned toward him, and asked, “What are you smiling about?”
“We’re on an alien planet, in a lone APC, with an under-strength squad, and combat is raging over our heads...and all I can think about is how happy I am.” Her grin back made it all worthwhile.
The drive to the second downed piece of Traveler took less time than the first, even considering their greatly reduced speed across the rough terrain. While fast by APC standards, the M-336’s top speed was just under sixty mph, about half that of the Toboo. The APC also had military-grade sensors, so they knew they’d found another piece of Traveler more than a minute before it was in visual range. It turned out to be cargo hold Number One – the one that had once held the company’s heavy weapons. Unfortunately, this one had not landed as gently as hold Number Two.
One or more of the parachutes had failed, and the hold was partially crushed. He had the two troopers use their suits to tear it open. Inside they found a mess of titanic proportions. None of the heavy energy batteries had survived. It was pure luck that none of the huge laser chemical tanks had ruptured and mixed in the atmosphere. Jim climbed in for a brief look himself and saw why this section hadn’t made it down. A massive chunk was torn from one side. It had been hit during the battle in space. Adayn looked over the mess and said she thought they could use some of it.
“Hargrave,” he called over the radio.
“Go, boss.”
“Check with Grato and see if we can use some of the city’s equipment haulers. I found our heavy weapons. Or, at least, what’s left of them. Still, there may be something worth salvaging.” Hargrave said he would, and Jim transmitted the coordinates before setting off for the final site.
Unlike Number One, Cargo Hold Number Three had come down in perfect shape, just like Two. He immediately felt guilty and regretful, wishing it had been this one that splattered its guts all over the landscape. Inside were the pair of Raknar he’d traded for that were accidentally shipped back to them on Karma by the feckless logistics team on Earth. Several huge pallets held the other mis-delivered junk from the museum.
While Jim stood in the hold looking at the worthless piles of ancient junk, he heard back from the city. The first two dropships had been turned around and were back in the air, greatly widening the sensor ranges of the city. The transports that had landed were huge, and they were disgorging mercs. Lots of them. Hargrave estimated no more than two hours before a ground assault was mounted.
“Who are the mercs?” Jim asked. There was no immediate answer.
“It doesn’t really matter,” was the reply.
“Hargrave, tell me. Now.”
“They’re Tortantula.”
“Fuck,” Jim said.
“Yeah. I’m trying to figure out the best way to deploy our forces, but we just don’t have enough. We weren’t supposed to be the defensive garrison unit. If they come straight in, we have a chance. But the Tortantula never do. They prefer an envelopment
strategy.”
“Doesn’t anything scare them?” Jim asked. He already knew a lot about the spider-like race. They were the most feared merc race in the galaxy. They’d killed thousands of humans during the Alpha Contracts, not long after first contact. They were bloodthirsty killers with a true love for slaughter and a reputation for giving no quarter whatsoever. They never turned down a contract if battle was involved.
“Not that I’ve ever heard. They’re spiders. Maybe if something big enough stepped on them?” Hargrave’s gravelly laugh came over the radio, and Jim rolled his eyes, even as those words lit a fuse in his brain. Could they? He looked back over his shoulder. Perhaps they could...
“Send some transports here too,” Jim ordered.
“There really isn’t time to bother with that stuff,” Hargrave insisted.
“Humor me,” he said, then decided to nip any further disagreement in the bud. “Okay, if that isn’t clear enough, let me make that an order. I have an idea.”
“Okay,” Hargrave relented, “but I hope for all our sakes it’s a damned good one.”
The two Cavalier dropships equipped with long-range sensor suites flew a continuous circuit around the city, as high above and far away as was safe. They had staggered flight times so that, even during the minutes it took to refuel, at least one of them was still in the air. The data was streamed live to defense headquarters.
Many merc races would do everything they could to stop this kind of aerial surveillance. The Tortantula didn’t give a fuck. They used heavily-armored transports and generally made a practice of arriving on planet in overwhelming numbers. Once on the ground and under defenses, they swarm-attacked, killing indiscriminately. Each Tortantula wore a type of unpowered combat armor mainly designed to protect their soft spots. Not that there were many of those. They were already tanks, after all – twelve-foot-wide, ten-foot-tall, six-foot-long, ten-legged, many-fanged killing machines.
“This is not good,” Jim said, watching the enhanced video as the Tortantula unloaded from their transport. It reminded him of a time on his family’s farm when he was a kid that he had watched the ranch hands pour acid onto a nest of fire ants. The way they came boiling out of the ground...Jim shuddered. These weren’t ants, however; these were huge, murderous aliens with a propensity for eating those they conquered in battle, and executing the wounded.
He left the Command Center and made his way down to the huge equipment hangar. The defensive installation was designed to hold several companies of mercs, all working to defend the high-value target. As the Cavaliers were the only ones there, it had a lot of extra room. That was just as well because this hangar, originally intended to house a dozen dropships, was dominated by the hulking forms of the two giant Raknar, or as Jim thought of them, mecha.
“How we doing?” he called out as he got closer. There was a team of ten working on the closer of the two. Roughly human in shape, but without a head, the Raknar stood almost one hundred feet tall and forty feet wide at the shoulders. With arms that were longer and legs that were shorter, proportionally, they more closely resembled King Kong than any person he’d ever seen. It would only take a slight bend at the waist for them to touch the ground with their hands. Both were brightly colored in unique paint schemes, but even though some new paint had been added from time to time, most of it was now faded with extreme age. Adayn poked her head out of the nearer one and waved.
“Hey sexy!” she called out. Jim felt his cheeks burn and blood quicken. Damn it, she needed to stop that. Several of the men wolf-whistled, and he bristled. The mecha didn’t have built-in ladders, and the armor resisted any welding methods they had tried so far. Adayn said it was some sort of carbon ceramic. Either way, the work team had gained access via hanging ropes over the shoulders and tying them off on mounts once meant for weapons. Both were currently unarmed. Adayn climbed down to meet him.
“I thought you were working on the blue one?” he said, pointing to the one further away. Its overall paint scheme was blue, while the closer one she’d just been working on was greenish.
“Blue proved problematic for the computers,” she explained. “There is some kind of growth all through it. Like...a slime mold crossed with a lichen. Whatever it is, it’s worked its way inside the control panels and every other part of it. Green over here is clean. There’s some residue – looks like it was filled with the snot at one time – but it got a thorough cleaning at some point.”
“Where’s Splunk?” Jim asked.
“Oh, my little Watchmaker? She tinkered with Green for a few minutes, then went back to Blue. She really likes that one, for some reason.”
“So, Green is running?”
“It’s like I said,” she explained, “we’ve got the interface that some aliens jury-rigged working well enough. We’ve charged the capacitors. You’ll be able to make it walk, move around, maybe even get in a punch or two, or some kicks, but its balance is dependent on those two gyros we pulled from stores. We can’t find anything in its guts that can make it walk like the bipedal mecha we’ve developed on Earth, or even like anything we’ve seen developed elsewhere in the Union.” She turned and looked up at the huge thing. “It doesn’t even have normal joints, like a CASPer or cargo loader. Too big. Any metal-on-metal connections like that would experience so much stress they would have to be made of diamonds or neutronium to handle the strain. It’s all super-powerful magnetic couplings with carbon nanotube cables to keep the arms and legs from falling off if the magnetic couples fail.”
“Like a weird marionette,” he said. She cocked her head and considered before nodding.
“Yea, I guess you could say that.”
“What about firepower?”
“We’re mounting a pair of rocket launchers on the shoulders. The mounts aren’t too dissimilar. And we’ve got flame units on both arms. You’ll be able to dole out a lot of hurt, for about ten minutes.”
“What happens then?” he asked.
“The capacitors will be shot, and you’ll probably faceplant.”
“Swell,” he said and looked up again.
“This was your great idea?” Hargrave asked as he walked over. He already had his haptic suit on, helmet under his arm.
“We only got two CASPers working,” Jim said, “and I’m the worst pilot. No need to pretend I’m not. But I’m a gamer,” he pointed up at the Raknar, “and that’s a big goddamned game machine.”
“This isn’t no game, son,” Hargrave cautioned him. “You roll out of here in that thing...”
“And I’m hoping they’ll shit themselves and run for it. From what I’ve read, these Raknar haven’t walked onto a battlefield in eons. But when they did, they were unstoppable.” He looked back at Hargrave. “Yeah, it’s a risk. But maybe it could turn the tide. Or at least buy us some time until backup arrives. The fight is still going on up there, after all.”
“That it is,” Hargrave said. Jim could tell he didn’t like it and might even be regretting having allowed him to take command. Be that as it may, Hargrave had been willing to take a chance on his leadership, and Jim was determined not to let the old man down.
“Phoenix 6 to Command,” the radio in his ear spoke.
“Cavalier Actual, go ahead,” Jim said.
“The spiders are on the move, sir. ETA 10 ten minutes.”
“Acknowledged,” he replied and raised his voice. “Here they come! All hands to the defenses as planned.” He looked at Hargrave who had a look on his face that betrayed his grave reservations about the current plan. It could all go sideways in a matter of seconds if the older man didn’t back him up. But what else could they do? Jim didn’t have a suit. He either stayed here and quarterbacked the fight from a chair or went out in the huge mecha to do what he could to turn the tide. “I got this. We can do this. But I need to know you’re with me. Are you?” he asked with quiet intensity. Hargrave noticed something in Jim’s eyes he hadn’t seen before – something that made him want to stand a little straighter.
>
“Lead the charge, Commander,” he said and ran to his idling CASPer. The rest of his platoon had come up while they were speaking. In a few seconds, Hargrave climbed in, and all ten of them were loping away toward the northern defense. Jim headed for the improvised ladder. Adayn met him at the bottom.
“Don’t try to talk me out of this,” he told her. “I know this plan is completely insane, but it’s our only shot.” She stood on her tippy toes and kissed him lightly on the lips as she placed a small device in his hand. She stepped back, and he held it up to take a closer look, turning it over, trying to figure out just what it was. It was made mostly of plastic but had a plug and several padded contact points, shaped like an old-fashioned crown or royal circlet.
“It’s a make-do haptic link,” she said. “You can supplement and tweak the feedbacks through your pinplants, but it’s going to be really loosey-goosey.” He nodded. “This genpack,” she said and pointed to a robotic power unit, “will shadow you to the gate but it’s programmed to disengage and stay there. Having a portable power unit shadowing you around the battlefield won’t help the illusion that you have a fully functioning monster robot.”
“Got it,” he said. “Look, I just wanted to say...”
“Save it for afterwards, lover boy,” she said. “Just keep them off you, and avoid the heavy weapons. I doubt they have anything portable that can hurt that thing. So be smart; I know you can win this.”
“See you soon,” he said and started climbing. Then he stopped and looked back. “The speakers work?” She shook her head and laughed.
“Tied into the pinlink. Have fun with that.” He nodded and climbed. At the top where the armored door to the cockpit stood open, he looked for Splunk, but she was nowhere in sight. “Where are you, Splunk?” he called out. She chirped from the blue Raknar, standing on its shoulder. “This one, silly!” he called. “We can’t get that one cleaned up.”
