“There!” she called out to the squad.
The kinetic cell fired on the bears and two bears dropped down into the pit. They spun and tumbled against the sheer walls and disappeared into the depths. The cell stitched more fire and the bears raced for cover.
“Can we get to it?” Samson said.
Denali traced the line up and down and saw that they could get up and knock out that cell. “I think so.”
“It’s open at the end, we’ll have to charge it,” Mjol said.
The conveyor would give them cover all the way to the top but then it drooped down the other side of the hill.
Denali heard static in her ear and waves of interference rolled in and out. She heard unit numbers and realized that someone was trying to contact them but the pit mine blocked almost everything. All she could make out was Orbital. Regroup.
“You hear that?” Bev said slowly.
“They’re gonna smash this place, we gotta go!” Seblig growled.
The squad of bears tried to surge forward again but the kinetic cell smashed into them and drove them back into cover. This time one was left on the slope. He tumbled slowly and came to rest on the edge of the chasm in a heap of limbs and broken armor.
“Enough! Let’s go!” Samson barked and ran off.
“Squad move!” Denali cried and ran to catch up with Samson.
The two sprinted side by side. The rim of the pit loomed ahead. Denali slowed her pace but Samson charged on.
“Let me scout it!” Denali said.
Samson raced even faster and then crested the top of the ridge.
“Squad! On Samson!” Denali ordered angrily. What was he doing? She sprinted after and ran over the top of the edge.
The plateau was surrounded by ridges of ash. In the center was a low building with a turret on the top that sat like a blister. A crackling energy shield encased it like a filmy bubble.
It rattled off another barrage towards the bears. Samson ran hard, almost as fast as Denali could push her Recon suit. A cloud of gray ash floated behind him and the rest of the squad ran through it. They looked like ghosts in the morning.
Get under the guns traverse! It can only swing so low.
Denali, filled with fear and excitement, ran as fast as she could.
The turret stopped firing at the squad of bears and tilted down towards Samson but he was too close. It realigned the aim right for Denali. She sprinted to the side. Then it fired.
Up close the sound was like a bass drum that echoed inside of the suits. Denali felt the impact right next to her and it shook her insides. Fear shot through her. Every step brought her closer to safety, but still it fired. She howled in the suit, an animal sound of fear and excitement. And then, she was clear.
Samson smashed into the walls of the kinetic cell and crashed through. A gust of atmosphere blasted out of the building. Denali followed a moment after and leaped into the darkness.
Inside three of the crab faced aliens scrambled for their suits of armor, but they were too slow. Samson raged through them like a lion. He gripped one, tossed his head from side to side, and crushed it with his mechanical jaws.
One of the aliens managed to grab onto a weapon but was demolished when Bellow leaped through and landed right on top of it. His enormous jaws swallowed up the head of the alien and then it was still.
The last one escaped outside and was torn down by Bev.
Denali eyed a command console and saw a screen that showed the turret firing on the bears. They kept advancing, kept moving into the path of fire, and kept falling.
She slammed into the console and crunched down on lines of conduit. Memories of salvage came back to her and she remembered that whatever powered the things, came through the conduit.
She clamped down tight on one line and was greeted with a spray of hot oily liquid. She released the line and slashed her metal jaws into another.
What are you doing!
“Shut up!” Denali barked and clamped down tight.
The conduit exploded in a shower of sparks and molten metal. The console blinked three times and the entire room went dark. The turret drooped and the kinetic cell ceased firing.
Denali opened her eyes and watched the ground move by. She looked up and saw Samson on one side and Mjol on the other. They were pulling her away from the kinetic cell and towards the line of advancing bears.
“Let me go!” she cried out.
Mjol and Samson released her and jumped back.
“I thought you were dead!” Samson cried.
“And save you the satisfaction of doing it yourself?” Denali snapped back.
Samson looked away. He didn’t say anything.
“We lost Seblig and Haru,” Mjol told Denali. ”Bellow took a hit, but he’s too dumb to die.”
Denali felt numb. They saved the bears, but her squad... She turned and felt a tingle through her body. The ground behind her was torn up and cratered from the kinetic cell. Seblig lay not far away with Haru right at the line where the craters stopped. He almost made it.
The bears trotted up and took cover near the edges of the ridge. Their armor was torn up and pocked by the repeated assaults. A bear stopped next to Samson. He wore a badge that marked him as a corporal.
“Who’s in command here?”
Samson nodded to Denali. “She is, Corporal.”
The bear came close to Denali and looked down at her.
Denali stared up at the bear and felt dwarfed beneath him. The weapons packs on his back were totally empty and his mechanical maw tilted sideways like he’d taken a blow from a boxer.
“Corporal,” she said.
The bear tilted his head. “What unit are you with?”
Denali looked at Mjol and then back to the bear. She grinned inside of her armor and shook her head. “I have no idea, Corporal, we’re still in training.”
The bear guffawed a great laugh that shook Denali’s ears. “Just in time, they were going to drop an orbital bombardment in thirty seconds.”
Denali’s grin slid off her face and she sat down hard. She realized that she’d lost almost half of the squad. Not Corporal Rain, not Sergeant Roo, but she lost them. A great sadness came over her. Her fault. Her failure.
Denali cried inside of the suit, and no one knew but a twelve hundred year-old artificial intelligence.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Pulse
“Caesar remembers,” the dog said. He stood on a platform with his chest thrown out like a proud father, his ragged brown fur clumped with blood.
Below him ranks of conscripts stared up. The hall was packed, but not nearly as packed as when they started the training.
“He remembers the deeds of the champions from the planet Forge. You,” he scanned the ranks, “are the elite of Caesar’s armies.”
Denali watched silently. She’d heard it before, first from Sergeant Roo, then from the Platoon leader of the bear squad, the Ursa Legion IV. After that it became more impersonal, a higher echelon dog, plump in the face and older. Now, she listened to yet another commander tell them that they were the tip of the spear. Cicero was rubbing off on her.
He wasn’t always like this.
“Hmm?”
The suit swallowed up any sound, like speaking inside of a coffin.
Caesar. He ran a dozen systems. Optimized perfectly. Capital ship production, mining, resource management, all next to the Fesheen.
The commander droned on about future endeavors and awaiting glory. Denali tuned him out, Cicero was much more interesting.
“Who are the Fesheen?”
Nomadic Aliens, they ranged through a few dozen systems. They had an astronomical birth rate. If you didn’t get them in orbit they’d overwhelm you on the ground. Now compared to the—
“Shh!” Denali hushed Cicero.
“Through that portal,” the commander pointed with an armored claw, “will pass the finest warriors in the galaxy. Go now to your duty and make Caesar proud!”
Sergea
nt Roo spun around and stared through his armored helmet at the conscripts. He spoke on the squad channel. “You are all warriors now, the elite of Caesar. Some of you will stay here, others will get assigned to other starships. You will probably never see each other again.”
The last sentence struck Denali. They were her only link to her home, a home that receded from her mind. This is my home. Whatever squad she was assigned to would become her family.
“Your orders are inbound.” Sergeant Roo dropped his visor. His eyes drooped. He looked like an old dog that needed a nap. “You’ve all done well.”
Sergeant Roo bowed his head and saluted the conscripts. “Dismissed!”
The conscripts fell out of ranks and exited the hall through enormous cargo hatches. Ranks of armored suits swallowed Denali. Again the runt in a recon suit, but a recon suit she was proud of.
For a time she simply walked with the crowd. She’d lost sight of the others in her squad. Now all she saw was identical suits of armor. She was the only recon suit in sight and attracted more than a few glances. The only other thing that set her apart was a small copper bear paw painted onto her chest: her only reward for losing three of her squad.
“Denny!” Mjol barked and ran up along side her. His eyes glittered beneath an open visor. “I’m assigned to the Ninth! How about you?”
Denali disengaged her visor. It slid back with a hiss and a pop. Cool air flooded in and she shivered a little. “I haven’t received anything yet.”
“Oh,” Mjol said, the excitement deflating out of him. “I’m sure it’s coming.”
She stopped and let the flow of armored suits march past her. There was nowhere for her to go.
Mjol halted a few steps ahead. “What are you doing?”
Denali shook her head and pushed through the crowd to the edge of the corridor. Mjol followed after.
“I... I don’t have anywhere to go.” Again she felt lost, discarded, alone. She’d tried so hard, all she wanted to do was prove herself. Hadn’t she done that? Hadn’t she led the way, and fought bravely.
Mjol wrinkled his face. He opened his mouth but he didn’t say anything.
“Go, don’t be late. I’m sure my orders are coming.”
“You did awesome, Denny,” Mjol said, and ran off into the crowd.
Denali looked down to the ground. A message tone chirped in her ear. She snapped her visor down, selected the proper menu and skimmed across her orders. There it was! Someone did want her! The lowest of lows instantly shot away and a jubilant high replaced it. She tried to wag her tail inside of the suit, but it was too tight. “I got orders!” she barked.
Denali sprinted through the crowd. She darted underneath the armored suits and raced towards the main hall. There, like spokes on a wheel, the ship opened up to all parts.
She reread her orders and ignored everything else around her.
Report Immediately: Wing D, SubSection 12, Compartment 11, 19th Recon Group, Captain Maya commanding.
Captain Maya. Denali pictured a dashing rogue, a wily dog that could sneak in and out and save the day. Mainly because that’s how she pictured herself.
She scanned the corridors and settled on Wing D. She searched the passing crowd for anyone she might know. She wanted to share her news with someone, anyone. Then she saw Samson staring at her.
His visor was open. He waited for a lull in traffic and trotted across.
She wanted to turn and walk away, but there was something on his face that stopped her.
“Dena-Denny,” Samson said in a low rumble. “I’m...” he turned and looked around as if he thought someone was watching. “We’re not on Forge anymore.”
Denali stared at him and tried to place her emotion. No, we aren’t. She slid the visor open.
“Things were different then,” Samson mumbled.
“Yes,” she said slowly. She felt the same way as he did, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Forgiveness, is that what he wants? Memories flowed back and she turned away, she remembered Sabot, Samus, and the threat. They wanted her dead once. “Good luck.”
Samson opened his mouth again and snapped it shut. “Good luck,” he rasped and turned away.
Denali felt like there was more to say but didn’t know what. She remembered the words of the commander: she wasn’t likely to see him ever again.
She turned and walked into her future.
Denali trotted down the long halls and marveled at the construction. Great halls opened up into cavernous ceilings. She passed dogs, large and small, skinny and fat, armored and unaugmented. She passed bears, a snarling group of otters, and something she was sure was a cat, but never got a good enough look.
She kept an eye out for aliens, but saw none, she decided they were kept somewhere else. The dogs worked diligently and patiently. She saw nothing of the tribal mentality like back on Forge, only cooperation. It moved her a bit, but reminded her of how different it was.
In the midst of a low ceiling hall there was a great market and Denali trotted into the center and stared around. She gawked at cuts of meat.
“You! Hey!” an angry voice growled.
Denali turned and saw a dog that barely came to her waist. Its face was flat like it had met a door on the wrong side of the swing. It growled and paced and looked entirely angry.
“Got no ears on that suit? Can’t ya read? Gonna wake him up!”
“I’m, uh, I don’t—”
“Cut it out, Bif! Look at her, she’s just a pup,” a jowl faced dog spoke through thick lips. He stood next to a counter filled with packaged slabs of meat.
“Read the sign!” Big grumbled and trotted back to a stand filled with floral printed wool.
Denali squinted at the sign. No Power Armor Permitted. She turned around quickly and stood on edge of the market. She wondered who she’d wake up, and then saw him.
A skelebot stood like a statue on the edge of the hall. The wall almost swallowed him, like he was built into place. The great blue eyes were dead and quiet, but a hint of energy pulsed from the ribcage. Great claws hung at its side with a spear set against one foot. It watched, a silent sentinel.
At first she wanted to run, but saw everyone else going on like nothing was wrong. People even walked right next to it. A dog sat on one of its feet and spoke with another. A trophy maybe? She eyed it warily and decided not to trust it.
A yellow dog with short wiry hair trotted past Denali and gave her a curious glance.
Denali felt self-conscious about being in the suit and set off further towards her goal. She could hear Cicero chuckling in her head and felt even worse.
“Why don’t you help me? I didn’t know what a market was. You know everything, right?”
Then you won’t learn it yourself. You’ll expect me to think for you.
“Then why are you staying in my head?”
I can’t exactly leave, now can I?
Denali turned at the passage heading towards SubSection 12. The corridors narrowed. She passed fewer and fewer dogs.
“Then what will you do?”
When?
“Well, I won’t live forever, what if I die?”
Then I was blessed with a rather exciting end to my days. And I’m curious. I knew Caesar once. I have a hunch I know what’s going on here.
“Tell me.”
No.
Denali gritted her teeth and stopped in front of compartment 11. The hatch was closed, there was no window. It said plainly on the outside 19th Recon Group. She didn’t recall passing eighteen other Recon groups on her way through. For that matter she didn’t remember passing anything but storage areas and weapons lockers.
She raised a paw to push open the handle and stopped. Uh oh, she thought, what do I do? Do I walk in? Do I knock and wait? Her suit felt warm and she set her paw back down before picking it up again.
She looked up and down the hall and saw no one, finally she decided she’d just walk in. The hatch creaked open and Denali stepped in as crisply as she could mana
ge.
The ceiling was low and sloped towards the back. It was filled with cases of equipment. An armor deconstructing bot idled in the corner. Curtains covered niches tucked into the wall. A single door, closed tightly, was set against the back wall. Half a dozen dogs lounged at a low table in the center of the room. They all turned and stared at Denali.
Denali stared back and felt that she’d walked into the wrong room. She clicked her paws together, snapped her head up, and opened her visor. The smell of roast caribou flooded in and she realized she hadn’t eaten in quite some time. “Trooper Denny Forge reporting!” she stammered out quickly.
The six dogs around the table turned away from their meal. A gray dog looked across the table and shook his head. A black and white dog with cybernetic legs stared, mouth wide, with caribou still inside.
“A Barbarian! Caesar’s nuts. I’m not sharing my table with a savage. A dirty savage, stupid things,” the gray faced dog spat his food out. He stood crisply and glared at Denali. “Barbarians!” he muttered and stormed off into a dark niche. The curtain slammed shut behind him.
A small dog, nearly as small as the market tender, ran from the table and halted in front of Denali. “Stand at attention!” he barked.
Denali clicked her armored feet together tighter.
“You call this a suit? Sweet tits of Caesar, look at the dirt. Kane, do you see the dirt?”
“I see the dirt,” a black dog agreed in a deep bass voice.
“You come in here, with your dirt, and your fancy words, and your barbarianism and expect to be recon? My recon?” the little dog huffed, and puffed and strutted back and forth. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head and at the final word he turned his head sideways. “Hmm? Hmm?”
Denali didn’t know what to say. She tried to form a response but nothing would come. “I just came up from the planet—”
“And?”
“—I, I mean we, ran into trouble—”
“Trouble? Mhm?”
“—I mean contact with the hostiles and then we—”
“You what?”
Denali stammered again.
“Enough!” the little dog barked and stomped a few steps away. He spun around and growled.
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