Rika Outcast: A Tale of Mercenaries, Cyborgs, and Mechanized Infantry (Rika's Marauders Book 1)
Page 17
“I can’t” Rika said as she placed her JE78 on her back. “I’m not going to rot in one of your prisons any more than I’m going to be a slave.”
“You’re not getting out of here,” Ariana said. “There’ll be an entire army above, waiting for you to emerge.”
“Maybe,” Rika said. “Depends on whether or not the other trigger pullers had more steel than I did.”
“Other?” Ariana asked. “How many others?”
“I don’t know,” Rika shrugged. “Slave, remember? Though I don’t even know if my team knew for sure. Enough to wipe out the upper echelon of your leadership—both civilian and military.”
“Fuuuuhck,” Ariana breathed. “John! We have to get out of here!”
John coughed. “No. No we shouldn’t. If what she says is true, then this is where you need to stay.”
“Do you have Link access?” Rika asked. “You could get out a warning, at least.”
“Offline right now. It has to be initiated from down here,” John said, coughing again. “Could…could someone help me get my helmet off? I’m coughing blood here, and it’s getting nasty.”
“Yeah, how do I do it?” Ariana asked.
John reached up with his remaining arm and unclipped a latch on each side. “Just twist counter clockwise, and then lift straight up.”
Ariana nodded and complied as Rika looked on silently.
When John’s face appeared, his mouth and chin were covered in blood.
“John!” Ariana gasped.
The man gave a macabre smile. “Madam President, my arm is missing, how is a little blood on my face compared to that?”
“John, really, I don’t know, OK? Let me help you up.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Rika said sheepishly.
“Why don’t you pull off your helmet so we can see who you are?” President Ariana asked.
Rika shook her head. “No, ma’am. John there is sure to have another weapon on him, and I wouldn’t blame him for taking a shot at me.”
Ariana looked to John, who nodded grimly, “I certainly would.”
“No, John, you won’t. This woman is not a threat anymore. If she wanted to kill me, she would have already. You’re not to harm her. That’s an order.”
John gritted his teeth, but nodded.
“I need to hear it, John,” Ariana said.
“Fine. I won’t harm her.”
Ariana turned back to Rika. “See? I’m showing my trust in you. Now I need something back. Remove your helmet.”
Rika sighed and signaled her helmet to unlatch; then she pulled it off, and hooked it on her hip.
“Huh,” John said, while the President shook her head. “You’re just a young woman.”
“Not so young; just a new face,” Rika said. “War took the old one.”
“It’s in your eyes,” Ariana said as she approached. “You’re what, twenty-seven?”
“A bit older,” Rika replied.
“What’s your name?”
“Rika.”
Ariana nodded. “Well, Rika; if you’d like, let’s go to the command center and see if we can find out if I’m still president of this alliance, or if we’ve been invaded.”
Rika gestured silently for the president to precede her, and John barked a laugh as he scooped up his rifle. “Fat chance. You’re in the lead, Rika.”
“John,” President Ariana said. “Seriously. She’s no threat.”
“Respectfully, Madam President, you’re wrong. She is absolutely still a threat.”
“It’s OK,” Rika said. “I can go in front. Just let me know if I make a wrong turn.”
Rika began to walk back to where she suspected the command center to be—a room filled with holotanks and consoles that she had passed on the way to their present position.
Strange as it was, Rika felt that she could trust the president. The woman seemed honorable—of course, she was a politician, which also meant she was likely a demagogue, capable of telling any tale to suit her. If Ariana became hostile and broke her word, Rika harbored no illusions that John would go along with it.
As Rika limped along—her injury still sending waves of pain up her thigh with each step—Ariana caught up with her.
“Do you know who hired you?” she asked. “What outfit are you with?”
“I’d rather not say,” Rika replied.
“About which?”
“About either,” Rika said.
“Do you even know who hired you?”
“I don’t, but my team has suspicions.”
“Nietzschean Empire, most likely,” John said from behind them.
Rika had been walking with her head turned just enough to keep John in her peripheral vision. She saw the sneer on his face, and wondered about the relationship between Thebes and the Empire.
“Wouldn’t be Niets,” Rika replied. “Too many Genevians in the—uh…our outfit to ever take work from them. Besides. Assassination isn’t the Niets’ style. They only do full frontal assault.” Rika remembered a few ambushes from the war. “Well, mostly.”
Ariana sighed. “Whoever it is…if the rest of your teams were half as successful as you were, we’re in serious trouble. Our constitution has a very tricky transfer of power built in. If top military leaders are dead, too…”
“Depends on whether or not it’s an internal coup, or an external attack,” John said.
“Let’s hope it’s a coup,” Ariana replied.
“Why?” Rika asked.
Ariana glanced up at her. “Because even if whoever takes over is a horrible despot, it’s probably better than an invasion.”
The sick feeling in Rika’s stomach intensified. Here she was, worried about going to prison, or how she’d escape, and the woman at her side was concerned with the fate of millions of her citizens.
Even so, Rika’s desire to get free was undiminished. She was tired of being the pawn of others. It was high time that she took control of her own destiny—even if that meant using President Ariana as a hostage to secure her freedom.
Of course, if the rest of the Marauders had succeeded, it was Ariana whose days were numbered. When whoever had paid the Marauders arrived to take advantage of the chaos, the bunker would eventually be cracked, and she would be executed.
Rika had to admit that she hoped such an outcome would not be the case.
They walked in silence for the remainder of the distance to the command center—which Rika had correctly identified. It wasn’t far from the entrance. One of the AM-3s bodies was visible through the door.
Ariana glanced at Rika, who, for all her augmentations, was still under only 230 centimeters tall, while the AM-3s had been over 300.
“I can’t believe you killed them…and are barely hurt.”
Rika shrugged. “There’s a reason they made my model after theirs.”
Ariana locked her eyes on Rika’s.
“Is that all you are? A model? A woman decided not to kill me. Not a machine. Do you see yourself as a woman?”
Rika felt a tear form in her eye, and didn’t trust her voice. How was Ariana able to disarm her so completely? She had to believe that the Theban President was sincere; if not, she was playing Rika like a harp.
“I try,” she finally managed to reply, though her voice betrayed her emotions.
Ariana gave her a sympathetic look before turning and walking into the command center. She approached a console, and keyed in a command.
“I’m opening up a connection to the surface networks,” Ariana said and glanced back at Rika. “Send me your codes. I’ll give you access.”
“Madam—” John began, but Ariana held up her hand.
“We’ve been over this, John.”
Rika connected to the bunker’s network, and sent her public token to Ariana.
Rika sent an affirmative response, but didn’t speak. She was desperate to find out what had happened on the surface, but also terrified.
A moment later, Rika felt the surface networks become available, and sought out the encrypted channel Basilisk had used for comms.
Her queue was flooded with messages. From Leslie and Barne (though none from Jerry), one from Captain Ayer, and another from someone named Specialist David.
She was about to check the first message, when Leslie’s voice barreled into her mind,
“Well, Rika. Looks like we’re on the same side now.”
FORGIVEN
STELLAR DATE: 12.18.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Capitol Bunker, Berlin
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Theban Alliance
Thirty minutes later, Rika stood with President Ariana, and a very pale John, as the bunker’s main door slowly opened. She had moved the two AM-3s to the side and covered their bodies—what was left of them—with a sheet from a supply closet.
Ariana’s generals were torn. Some wished to get their president out of the bunker—and away from Rika—as quickly as possible. Others didn’t want her to leave the bunker until things with the Marauders were sorted out.
Between Ariana’s updates, and intel Rika got from Leslie and Barne, they had pieced together the events of the previous hour.
As Rika had been rushing through the Capitol building, hundreds of Marauder comm drones had dumped out of the dark layer into the Albany system, broadcasting abort codes to all Marauder teams.
Leslie had informed her that the drone swarm was a last-ditch failsafe to abort an operation. Most of the drones were destroyed in the dark layer, but enough made it through to get the message out.
Then a Marauder fleet had jumped deep into the Albany system, only twenty AU from Pyra, which they were decelerating toward and would reach in two days. Although the Marauders only possessed one hundred and twenty capital ships, no system reacted kindly to a mercenary force of that size arriving without notice.
On top of that, another dozen rapid exfiltration ships had boosted out of hiding around various moons and planetary rings, scooping up Marauder teams across the system.
“My generals are certainly nervous,” Ariana had said at one point. “Granted, your Marauder’s small number of ships are no great threat; but given your close proximity to me down here, no one knows if we’re really in a hostage situation or not—despite my reassurances.”
“Understandable,” Rika had replied. “This is a mess no matter which way you turn it. But to think that I almost killed you for the Niets…. I’m sorry, President Ariana. I—I’m just sorry.”
Ariana had nodded and placed a hand on Rika’s arm. “Trust me, no one is more glad than I that you had a change of heart.”
Once Leslie and Barne had given her the details about the Niets hoax, she had asked the question that had been burning in her mind.
Leslie didn’t reply, but Rika sensed a wave of anguish over the Link.
Rika respected that, and changed the subject.
Barne fielded the answer.
Those words echoed in Rika’s mind as the bunker’s wide door swung open. A Nietzschean invasion. She didn’t know much about the Theban space force’s strength, but she didn’t see how a five-system alliance could field anything powerful enough to withstand an assault from the Nietzschean Empire.
The orders Rika received were simple: regroup with Basilisk, and sync up with Alpha Company under Captain Ayer.
Rika had just one issue with that.
She wasn’t a Marauder.
But her thoughts turned to Barne and Leslie. They were her team; and even though she had failed in her duties, failed to take out President Ariana, they had shown no displeasure in her inaction.
Perhaps they didn’t want to know what had occurred—that might have to be enough.
Rika glanced at President Ariana. She knew that there could be a place for her in Thebes—despite the lives she had taken—but Team Basilisk needed her. Barne and Leslie were just squishies. There was no way they could survive a Nietzschean invasion without mech support.
“FREEZE! Drop your weapons!” A voice yelled, as the door swung open far enough for Rika to see an AM-2 mech on the other side.
“Lower your weapons,” President Ariana called out. “I’ve issued a provisional pardon for Rika, here. She is not to be placed under arrest, or to be restricted in any other way.”
Rika relaxed a hair. Despite all of the president’s assurances, there was a part of her that had worried it was a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security.
Of course, she was still in arm’s reach of Ariana. Things could change once they were separated.
“Ma’am,” a man said as he pushed past several presidential guards in powered armor. “You cannot do this. She killed at least half a dozen people on her rampage.”
Ariana turned her head toward Rika. “Sergey. I understand that, but she thought what she was doing was necessary. Rika stood down of her own accord. She may be a killer, but she is not a murderer. And on that basis, I have issued my pardon.”
“This is going to be a disaster,” Sergey replied, gripping his hands together.
“Sergey,” Ariana said with a tired smile. “We have a war to fight. Rika is a warrior, and she is now fighting on our side. I’ll take all the help we can get.”
“Yeah, but on our side for how long?” one of the nearby soldiers muttered.
“Fucking mercs,” said another.
Ariana did not acknowledge the utterances, but instead walked toward the lift. “Rika, you may ride up with me. John, you’re on the first ride up, too. You need to see a medic yesterday.”
“A bit late for that,” John said as he followed after the president.
Rika slipped between the soldiers, feeling dozens of eyes on her, waiting for a bullet or a blow. But none came, and she reached the lift unmolested.
She noted that the bodies had been removed, but the bloodstains remained. She wondered if the two unarmored guards had been part of the kill count or not. She thought she had been careful not to harm them—too much.
“Rika,” President Ariana began as two other guards entered, and the lift began to rise. “I may not see you in the days to come; fate may pull us apart. I regret what your government did to you, and what lot has been left for you in life. I know it’s not the same, but I have been called a monster in the past as well…” Ariana paused and met Rika’s eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it was your humanity that saved me down there.”
Ariana touched Rika’s hand, gripping it like she would any flesh and blood hand, and squeezed gently. Their eyes met.
“I forgive you, Rika.”
Rika felt a surge of emotion rise up in her, and tears sprang from the corners of her eyes. She nodded rapidly, knowi
ng that her voice would betray the wellspring of emotion within her.
Ariana continued to hold her hand as the lift rose and the doors opened. The guards in their powered armor exited first, then turned and waited for the president. Ariana smiled at Rika and exited the lift.
Just as Rika whispered, “Thank you.”
That was the last Rika ever saw of President Ariana. She was killed two days later when an orbital strike from a Nietzschean cruiser destroyed all of Berlin, including the Capitol and the presidential palace.
MARAUDER
STELLAR DATE: 12.22.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Northern Districts of Jersey City
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Theban Alliance
“Move! Move! Move!” Rika screamed at the platoon under her care, as they clambered over the debris of a fallen building on the outskirts of Jersey City.
A sniper was out there firing on them, and Rika had to take it out before they lost any more Marauders.
Barne said and passed the coordinates to Rika. She leveled her GNR and fired, trusting in Barne’s analysis.
A dozen projectile rounds flew into a building three blocks away, and she changed positions, waiting for return fire. When none came, she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Rika turned and surveyed the city around her, which was shrouded in long shadows as Howe set in the west. She shook her head, saddened by the current state of what had been a beautiful city, full of life just six days ago when she and Barne had passed through.
In the four days since the aborted assassination of the Theban leadership, all hell had broken loose.
The Nietzschean armada had not been far behind the Marauder’s fleet, jumping in with over ten thousand capital ships, all bearing down on Pyra. Their intent was to take out the Theban capital world in one swift strike.
One small benefit of the Theban response to the Marauder’s arrival was that their ships were already mustered and in motion by the time the Niets appeared on Scan. This gave the Thebans enough of an edge that they were able to stave off a full bombardment of their world. However, it wasn’t enough to stop several Nietzschean strafing runs on the planet that took out cities, and dropped multiple ground assault teams.