by Martin Perry
“You’ve been watching my replays in here?” questioned Maur, surprised and a little hurt.
“Of course I have. You have spent the last two weeks in the suites. I was making sure you weren’t doing anything abnormal.”
“Uhh...”
“Now look,” Charles pointed to the miniature Maur as the exercise began, ignoring his stutter,“watch how you move.”
Maur remembered the assessment, it had been his fourteenth attempt and he had completed it with top marks in under ten minutes. He watched as his replica moved from point to point, checking in all directions, rifle cocked and ready against his shoulder. Other than a few missed shots he couldn’t see fault, he had done exactly as the training manuals said. Careful, accurate and aware.
“Impressed?” asked Charles as the exercise ended, Maur’s miniature self leaning down on its knees.
“Well, aren’t you?” Maur knew the answer before he asked, even if he was giving himself a mental pat on the back.
“No. Watch this.”
Charles headed back to the panel, and with a further few taps loaded another model into the map. It was himself, almost completely static at the start point. His rifle was held loosely at his side as he watched the hovering counter ahead of him descend toward zero. As soon as it had, the miniature leapt into action.
He was taking a completely different path than the one that was suggested. Instead of heading upward onto the ridge to the right of the start point, he instead moved straight towards the cover in front. By this point the first waves of enemies were starting to shift forward, appearing between cracks in the wooden huts, and behind the rocks that littered the field. Charles’ model was on his knees behind a large concrete block, one that had always looked out of place in Maur’s opinion. He peered over the edge, spotted, and then hurled himself over cover, darting towards the first shack on the left.
There were a few rocks that lay underfoot, and the model used them as a vault. Rather than head through a doorway, or even breach a wall, Charles had leapt straight through one, splintering wood everywhere. The muted sounds of the projection still jolted Maur, the crash almighty while he watched Charles blast away the startled opponents inside. He took the doorway, and dispensed with another four enemies that were shifting into position. With them down, his rifle flicked up and out, held at arms length, and as he ran out of the disintegrating shack the enemies in its opposite counterpart opened fire. Through the wood he was able to blast them away, laser rounds ripping through and bringing them to their knees.
Onwards, Charles ducked behind cover. At this point Maur’s model had just taken position up on the ridge, far behind Charles’. The massive man was moving with surprising grace as, again, he dived over the rock and ended three more virtual lives. Maur watched himself, so far behind, just taking out the first targets with caution and hesitation.
Charles raced forward, his final wave moving into the valley. A large group this time, numbering twelve they made a rush for Maur’s position when he had got that far in the test. Charles, still holding the weapon out in front, drew his pistol from the holster, and while his seemingly random rifle fire took down a few at the lead of the pack his pistol merely scattered them. At this point, Maur had taken down his first set of enemies, those that were behind the initial cover that Charles had taken out after his surprise attack. Laughably behind, he resigned himself to watching Charles finish off the last of the enemies.
Charles was still outnumbered and had been forced to take shelter behind a nearby rock. He let out a few cracks of fire but the enemy had themselves become entrenched behind solid protection. For a moment Maur thought he saw Charles' face flicker with frustration, but in fact it was merely a quick grimace as he unhooked a grenade from his belt. The grenades! Maur hadn't even thought to use them, his distant range making their use redundant. Charles lobbed it over his cover and in behind his opponents. It exploded, and eliminated them all together except for a trickle of life in one. After strolling over calmly, Charles fired a single shot into the lone female combatants head. Charles' model dropped his weapon with apparent disdain. Statistics flashed up; Charles' completion time was three minutes and twenty-four seconds, rating C-star.
Despite the poor rating it was no doubt who was the more effective soldier. Simulation paused, Maur’s model was still dealing with the initial threats.
“That is what you need to become,” Charles spoke up, Maur’s heart still pounding in his chest. “You need to be the battle, not just a pawn inside it. We got lucky on Cirramorr. Not every battlefield will offer those sorts of vantage points. We’ll start tomorrow. We have a week before landing on Seeon but this will be ongoing. Make sure you are committed.” Charles spoke without humour, looking at Maur in a deadly serious manner. The projection blipped away and the two came closer.
“I’m ready.” said Maur.
“Good! I hope your ready for dinner too. Thom’s managed to throw something together despite the trouble you caused in Cirramorr.” Charles was smiling again, the tension broke. “You did well there, even if I only let you go ahead with your impress plan to please Kerra. I didn’t want to show you up.”
“Wait. Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. Come on, lets go get a drink,” responded Charles, damaging Maur’s ego even further. “Alcohol always helps on the battlefield. Keeps you relaxed!”
Maur and Charles headed out of the maintenance bay and toward the dining area. They walked together, equal, even though Maur had just seen definitive evidence that they were most certainly not.
“Seeon is the party capital of known space. The streets are lined with clubs, bars and specialist entertainment, and the best thing is that they never close. That’s right, following a bloody conflict the planet’s axis rotation has been completely halted, creating the perfect night-time playground that’s more than a little bit on the dark-side. Party-goers can enjoy booze, narcotics and incredible music all day, every day and even sample the native’s telepathic abilities at cabaret events that will truly leave your jaws on the floor. Possibly your clothing too! Book now to avoid disappointment!”
Tourist information regarding Seeon. Taken from a sim brochure for an Earth-based travel agent. The advertisement was banned after squads of higher education students barricaded themselves inside the sim suites of merchants and raided the stashes of complimentary hallucinogens that accompanied the campaign. There were one-hundred-and-twenty reported incidents of this ilk.
Chapter Ten
“So, what have you guys been doing in there?” Kerra said, meeting a sweaty Charles and an exhausted Maur outside of one of the sim suites. “I hope it’s nothing unsavoury. I wouldn’t want to think that a lovers tryst might damage the effectiveness of the team.”
“I think we would have far more to worry ourselves with,” puffed Charles, “if it were you in there with Maur. Not I.”
The comment was sharp, and while an easy jab it was just strong enough to cause an awkward pause among the trio.
The two boys were in their under-skins. Armour had been projected onto them during their time in the simulations as was ordinary, but without the power sources stored inside the panels, they really just helped to insulate the heat that leaked from their bodies. The work was intense, pushing his skills as a soldier. It was going well, but Maur knew it was a long process. Charles was pushing him well beyond the limits he had set in his own head. It felt good, it felt like he could be extraordinary.
“So, the Captain wants to have dinner with us before we head down to the surface,” Kerra said eventually, breaking the silence.
“Ugh, can’t he just let us go down now? There are two hours of the afternoon left, for what its worth on Seeon at least, we could make the delivery before the merchant closes.”
“It’s not a merchant. It’s a hotel,” Charles muttered.
“Oh come on...”
“Yeah, it won’t shut in the next day, or the day after that. He’s doing it to make a point, after
all he still thinks it was carelessness that caused the supply loss,” Charles added.
“Fucking Seeon, I can’t stand the entire planet,” Kerra hissed.
“It’s not so bad, has some pretty excellent bars.”
“Maur, don’t even think about bars. Don’t even think about alcohol. Don’t even think about fruit juice!”
“Not even a little drink?” He was pushing her buttons. “Just a couple of fingers of bourbon?”
She responded with a swift flick of her fist into his ribs.
“That’s the only couple of fingers you’re getting.”
Maur knew exactly why they were being forced to wait. Four weeks within the pleasant new walls of Annie had not warmed Champion’s heart. They had continuously been given the least pleasant duties. Kerra was sure that Champion had faked the plumbing blockage that forced them to spend hours plunging away at jammed sewage pipes in the men’s cabins. Despite the skeleton staff, there were enough of these with particularly unpleasant contents to warrant beaten egos and furrowed brows. Still, it was nothing like the punishment Champion would have piled on in the old days.
As grumpy as the Captain might be at his meagre rations he was certainly getting the best of what was available. Thom had done his best, and Charles spoke positively of the offerings, although nobody in the crew could be sure if he was being sarcastic. No matter how great a chef Thom was, flavoured gunk is, ultimately, just flavoured gunk.
The recreation room was always empty, the few crew-members tending to assemble in the dining area. It probably had something to do with the lack of alcohol on-board. Bar games had limited appeal without copious amounts of drink, certainly in Maur’s eyes anyway. In addition, nobody seemed interested in escaping to the faux reality of the sims thanks to the happy feelings brought on by all the new comfort features of Annie. It had been useful given how intense the training had been over the last few days. Other than Kerra, nobody else had thought to question their absence, far too caught up in their own banter and the drivel being broadcasted on the massive screen installed in the new dining area.
“So are we eating in his quarters?” asked Maur, moving on from the lack of response he received to the first question.
“Yes. He told Thom to use the last of the red meat. Maybe he wants to kiss and make up,” replied Kerra.
“Not very likely,” said Charles, cutting down expectations.
All three walked in the direction their cabin to get ready for their last meal before heading down to Seeon. Kerra departed first, the passage behind maintenance that offered access to the female cabins now being open. She waved goodbye before ducking through her door, which left Charles and Maur alone to take the walk towards the male cabins. They kept quiet for most of the short journey, but just outside their opposing doors Charles decided to speak up.
“You’re doing well, given the situation,” he said.
“With the training? Thanks, it’s tough but I feel, you know, stronger for it,” Maur returned, smiling a little while resting his weight against his door, hand up and legs bent.
“No. With Kerra.” Charles contradicted Maur's positivity.
“Kerra? What do you mean?”
“You have feelings for her. Strong feelings. I thought it was just tension. Brought on by working together. I can see it in your eyes though. I felt that way once,” Charles flickered a slight smirk, but his eyes seemed lost. “See you in the Captain’s quarters.”
He ducked in, leaving questions unanswered, making his bold statement seem throwaway. While not training, Maur had tried to spend as much time with Kerra as possible, but had convinced himself that was just to make sure that she didn’t feel left out. There had been a few awkward moments, hands had touched. It had all been entirely innocent save for one occasion. They were sitting by themselves in the recreation room. The dining room crowd, however small it was these days, could be a bit much after a long day and Kerra had walked him to this quieter area. They were sitting opposite, joking and sharing stories of Earth.
Maur had made a wide swipe with his hands, demonstrating the size of the rabid dog at the heart of his story, just as she dipped forward laughing. His hand, arms fully extended, stroked across her face and they paused. It would have been laughable to an onlooker, him sitting across from her with his arm stretched all the way out. In the pause though, it didn’t feel stupid. In the pause it felt natural, good, and his heart skipped a beat. She broke it up, just as it began to dawn on him how out of the ordinary it all was. Kerra’s coughs and slightly choked words urged for him to keep the story going. Maur assigned the momentary flutter to cabin fever once more, and had tried to put it out of his mind during his sessions with Charles.
He stripped off his under-skin and dumped it into the cleaner. It immediately whirred, clicked a couple of times and pinged to let him know that the skin was sterile again. It was just enough time for Maur to slump into the shower – the cabins fitted with similar technology to that in the new locker room – and turn it on. The water rumbled over his ears and he thought of Kerra more. When he dwelled on it though, it was far more rare for her not to be on his mind. Even during the training sessions, the idea of protecting her, being a knight in shining armour against some future foe, would swirl around his head. She didn’t need it of course, and his feelings were deeper, according to Charles. Maybe it wasn’t about protecting her at all, maybe it was just about being near her.
Clean, he stepped out of the shower and moved his mind onto other things. Rummaging around his unkempt drawers, he pulled out fresh denims and a dark navy t-shirt, then pulled them over. Dirty white sneakers and a brown leather jacket completed the outfit. The Captain was never fussy about dress clothes, they weren’t in the military now after all, and casual clothing would do for Seeon as well. Simple delivery tasks didn’t require the stuffy armour. Plus, where it was very much of benefit to identify yourself as a mercenary on Pura, seetans generally view any militaristic affiliation as a bad thing. It reminded them of the war.
Maur felt comfortable for the first time in a while, the cosy softness of his chunky, flat-soled sneakers clasping his feet. He would keep Charles’ words out of his mind for the time being, bucking the trend with Kerra would only cause complications down the line.
Maur made the journey to the command deck, and the Captain’s adjoining quarters below. There were still a few people working on the deck, but Annie was on auto-pilot for the most part. Stepping down the flight of entryway stairs, he was greeted by a smaller group than expected. Charles was already sitting, his red vest and braces combo immediately recognisable, and Thom had also taken his place. Champion was at the head of a polished, dark mahogany table, ornate seats circling it.
Marc 14, the ship’s lunark tactical advisor had rejoined them on Pura, being on leave when the Los Piratas attack had happened. It was odd to see a lunark out of armour. Despite the fact that Maur knew Marc 14 well, his baggy red shirt, tucked neatly into brown chinos, still caused confusion. Their spindly bodies just didn’t suit human-style clothing. Dr. Beat was there too, out of her whites, and looked a little odd stuffed into a dress. Sort of like a poorly filled sausage.
Most striking, however, was Kerra. She was wearing nothing out of the ordinary, but she was using far fewer buttons than was her habit. A white blouse covered her top half. It was sitting open at her chest revealing more cleavage than Maur could really cope with after thinking about her for the last half hour.
“Come on then,” shouted Champion across the long table and through the seating area that sat before it, waving both his hands in welcome. “Take your seat, just opposite Kerra.”
Maur walked forward, scuffing his leg past the sofas in his way, before pulling a chair out for himself. Settling down, he coughed awkwardly, trying to tear his eyes away from Kerra’s chest. He tucked himself under the table and clasped his hands together, darting a look again and then up to the Captain. Charles had got him thinking.
“Good, now we’re all here,
we can get started,” Champion announced.
The same deck hands that Maur had first hear utter the ‘Shit-Stain’ nickname wandered in. While Dr. Beat looked bizarre, they looked even weirder. The pair had ruffled fronts on their pristine white shirts, coupled with black trousers. So far, so good, but the outfits were finished by sandals, toes bare and sticking out the front.
“Like them?” Marc 14 asked. “I put it together. Great, don’t you think?”
Maur nodded compliantly, but secretly struggled to stifle a laugh. Kerra didn’t help, swinging her leg under the table and kicking him. A warning to behave, but a playful gesture too. He caught sight of her cleavage again, tough to miss, but quickly rectified his mistake and darted up to her eyes. Kerra had obviously noticed, the knowledge was in her stare, but the look wasn’t scalding, as he had expected. They waited for the imminent interruption of Champion, gazing at each other. Luckily it came quickly and was filled with bubbling enthusiasm, their cheeks having turned bright red already. Dinner was served, a surprisingly edible steak flavoured cube offered to the less senior staff, Champion himself enjoying the real deal.
“After dinner you guys will be heading down to Seeon,” began Champion, “and we all know that The Moderate Council are not inclined to welcome mercenaries on-world.
“Now, they have their ports and continue to allow mercenaries to land at them, but that doesn’t mean you can go in there all guns blazing. Don’t think me stupid, I know something is going on that you aren’t telling me about. I can not impress upon you how important it is for you to see yourselves as delivery personnel and not combat-ready soldiers while you are down there.
Whatever stunt you pulled on Pura has left us without supplies and left you guys eating gunk. Day in, day out.” He waved between the plates of meat and the plates of gel. “Ordinarily I would have just put another order in and stayed in Cirramorr another night. Simply put, we don’t have the money for that. The refit cost us everything we had and I am hoping that the fresh start will lead us towards many years of prosperity. This mission, however, must be completed without fuss, without bullet-fire and without Council intervention. Jokes aside, play time over, if they levy disorder fines at us then it could well bankrupt the ship.”
