Steel World

by Larson, B. V.

  “You have awarded victory to the defeated. I’m here, I’m able-bodied, and the enemy has withdrawn. Therefore, they are the losers.”

  “Insignificant. The accounting has been precise. No human survives here other than you. During the conflict, you were badly beaten.”

  I picked up my pistol painfully. The Nairbs watched me but did not retreat. I don’t think they knew how very, very close I was to shooting them both dead. With difficulty, I controlled myself and kept the weapon at my side.

  “All right,” I said, shuffling toward the dead jugger. I pointed to his red scales and the ridged scar on his belly. “Take a look at this. This same exact lizard has attacked this compound over and over. He nearly got me the last time, but I killed him yet again.”

  The Nairbs looked but didn’t seem too impressed. “All of these life forms resemble one another.”

  “Take a DNA sample then. It’s the same damned jugger.”

  “DNA sample? Unnecessary. We’ll simply check the molecular manufacturing imprint on the cells. Much simpler and more accurate.”

  “Molecular…?” I began, and trailed off. “Are you saying the revival machines leave an imprint inside each body they produce?”

  “Absolutely. Omitting the imprint would be a violation of Galactic Law.”

  “Huh,” I said, thinking about my own body. Were my cells stamped inside with some tiny, sub-microscopic mark? Somehow, that idea made me feel a little sick. I shook it off and pressed my case.

  “What are you going to do about this injustice?” I asked. “I demand to know.”

  “Are you lodging a formal grievance?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, I’m lodging a formal grievance.”

  They both made unhappy gargling sounds. I got the feeling that was extra work for them. I smiled tightly at the thought.

  Although it hurt, I managed to locate and show them another of the bodies with the same scar. Then I transmitted images I’d taken with my suit, all showing the same saurian dead with the same scar. For the first time, they seemed interested and paid close attention.

  When I was finished, I went in for the kill.

  “There you have it, then,” I said. “The enemy has been cheating. They used advanced revival technology to lower their body count. Surely, you see they must be disqualified.”

  One of the two Nairbs made a sniffing sound. “By no means. This will go into our report, but it is by no means grounds for disqualification. Your forces use the exact same technology to an abusive degree. Did you really believe we were unaware of that fact?”

  I paused, mouth open. I had naturally assumed they didn’t know we were doing it. In fact, we’d made a living out of abusing revival machines.

  “A loophole in an accounting system must rightfully apply to all sides,” said the Nairb. “At least until the loophole is closed.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Could the Nairbs be advocating banning revival machines? That would mean every death Legion Varus suffered would be a permanent one. The mere thought was chilling.

  I wanted to say a thousand things to those two Nairbs. I wanted to shoot them and pound them with my fists. I wanted to find out if their guts were as green as their exterior membranes.

  But I did nothing. I stood there, swaying slightly on my feet like a drunk. Overhead, the sky was beginning to lighten. I was vaguely surprised—I had made it to see the dawn. I turned and looked up at the sky. Soon, the blazing twin eyes of Cancri would rise in what we called the east.

  “Why, then, did you act like you cared?” I demanded. “Why’d you have me show you pictures and bodies?”

  I turned painfully back around to face them—but they were gone. I watched in shock as the second one’s green tail vanished into the air car. A moment later, it lifted off into the sky.

  The suns rose as they always did, painfully bright. I squinted and lifted my pistol—but I lowered it again. Shooting at their ship a few more times wasn’t going to gain me anything. We’d lost the challenge. It was over.

  I heaved a sigh, and began hobbling around the stinking, corpse-littered battlefield. I finally found a body I recognized: the nameplate identified him as Adjunct Leeson.

  I took off my helmet and replaced it with the officer’s gear. The fit was a little snug, but it worked. I quickly found the command channel and beamed it up into the sky.

  After a few minutes I managed to get none other than Centurion Graves on the channel.

  “Sir?” I said. “This is Recruit McGill reporting in from the spaceport. I’m alive and requesting extraction.”

  “McGill? It figures. What are you doing alive down there?”

  “Defending the spaceport sir, as ordered.”

  “We lost that battle, McGill. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  “The Nairbs tried to. I couldn’t talk them out of it, even at the point of a gun.”

  Graves was silent for several seconds. I thought he might start screaming at me, but he didn’t. He chuckled instead. I could not recall ever having heard him laugh before.

  “You’re some piece of work, McGill. I’m getting something over the exec channel about the Nairbs. Something about a formal charge. Would that be your doing?”

  “I did my best, sir.”

  “You’ve got a brass pair, kid. All right, I’m recalling you right now.”

  “When is the lifter due?”

  “What lifter? I haven’t got the time or resources for a lifter.”

  “Well then what—” I began, but trailed off. The channel was dead. I couldn’t raise him again.

  I stood around after that, watching the suns rise. I figured maybe Graves had an air car of his own or some other conveyance.

  I was wrong.

  The missile caught the corner of my eye. I barely had time to turn my head and face it. Streaking right down from orbit, it must have been riding my signal all the way from space. I had only a second or two to even realize what it was. The contrail, the tiny glimmer of fire…

  They blew me up. One second, I was standing there on the rugged surface of Steel World, soaking up the harsh rays of the Cancri dawn—and the next I was broken down into my component atoms.

  I hadn’t even tried to run, or seek shelter. What would have been the point?

  I’d been recalled to Corvus—the hard way.

  -33-

  I emerged from the revival unit dizzy and confused. In my mind, the missile was still coming down. That moment in which I’d realized what Graves had done was still fresh in my head.

  “That prick,” I mumbled, struggling to open my eyes.

  “What have we got?” asked a voice. The voice was female and I thought I recognized it, but I wasn’t completely sure…

  “Stats are good. No toxins. No warping. I think we have a good grow this time.”

  “We’d better.”

  A good grow. Such strange words. They echoed through my mind bringing waves of relief. For the last few days I’d been haunted by the specter of a damaged body. It had been like being told you had a fatal dose of radiation or cancer—or both.

  My elation slowly shifted back into anger. I’d worked so hard to stay alive. What was the point of all that desperate effort if Graves was just going to blow me up at the end?

  With a growl of animal intensity, I tried to get off the tray they had me on. The tray was like a tongue sticking out of the mouth-like opening of the revival unit. When I tried to get up, I bumped my head on the upper manifold.

  “What was that?” asked an orderly. “Was that a muscle spasm?”

  “Sort of, he’s trying to get up,” said the female. I recognized her now: Anne Grant. The last time, she had revived me illegally.

  “Remarkable,” said the orderly.

  “McGill always has ideas of his own.”

  I found a strap around my waist, holding me onto the tray. Fumbling blindly, I managed to get the buckle off and half-fell, half-rolled onto the ground. For the first time my eyes flutte
red open. I struggled to speak.

  “Specialist Grant,” I said, slurring my words. “Anne—is that you?”

  “Yes James, I’m here.”

  “Help me up. I’ve got to get up and move out.”

  “Where are you headed? The battle is over, Recruit.”

  “Not for me,” I said, finally getting to my feet with help from both of them. They had my elbows on either side. “I’m on a mission. I’m going to kill Centurion Graves.”

  That caused them both to chuckle. “You’re not the first to awaken with that thought firmly in mind, you know.”

  “Let go of me!” I demanded.

  They did it, and I was immediately sorry. I fell to my knees without their support to steady me.

  Dying and coming back to life is a strange experience. I can say with certainty I’ve never gotten used to the process. It’s kind of like awakening from a week-long coma. You’re disoriented, weak, and usually pissed-off, in my case.

  Specialist Grant knelt beside me. I was on all fours, panting.

  “Would it help if I told you Graves is pretty happy with you? He’s talking about awarding you a silver nova.”

  I looked at her with bleary eyes. She was pretty, but it was as if I was looking at her underwater.

  “A medal? Why?”

  “Valor. Success. The usual thing.”

  “Huh,” I said and tried to get to my feet again. I cursed and raved and pushed their hands away. Struggling to stand, I did it on my own this time. I was getting stronger, more coordinated.

  I sucked in a gust of air. My chest felt tight and my new lungs burned. I guess it was their very first deep breath.

  I endured a coughing fit, then looked at both of them. “I need a uniform.”

  After a few minutes, I was dressed and able to stand unaided without looking like a Saturday night drunk.

  “Can I talk to you privately for a second?” I asked Anne. She nodded at the orderly, who disappeared.

  “Is this regrow legit?” I asked her when he was gone. “No half-rotted brew of plasma? No bad grows?”

  “That’s right. You’re as good as you’ve ever been.”

  “Do they really stamp a number in your cells?” I asked her.

  “What?”

  “A counter—you know, to identify you and indicate how many times you’ve been regrown.”

  “Oh…” she said. Her face looked troubled. “How did you hear about that? We’re not supposed to talk about it.”

  “The Nairbs told me.”

  Anne shook her head and laughed. “How do you get into these things, Recruit?”

  “I have a gift. What about your people? The bio-squad. Are you guys going to leave me alone now?”

  “I heard you had a little trouble with some of my colleagues after you managed to lose and then destroy a revival machine. Do you know how much those things cost? I think they want to forget about you.”

  “No charges, then?”

  She shook her head. “Prosecution wouldn’t be wise for the Legion. You’re a hero now.”

  I pushed off the wall I’d been leaning against. I could stand comfortably now. In an hour or two, I knew, I’d be as good as new—literally. I adjusted my kit in a streaked mirror hung near the door. The door sensed I was thinking about leaving and intelligently swished open.

  “McGill?” Anne called as I turned to leave.

  I looked back at her. “Try not to make any new enemies, okay? I put in some good words for you. But you will always need us. When you are at your worst, your weakest we’ll be there. That’s not when you want to see the face of an enemy.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for the warning,” I said. “Tell your colleagues that when the lizards break in and start eating everyone in the bunker—that’s when you need my people.”

  It wasn’t my most diplomatic speech, but she didn’t seem to be offended by it. In fact, she seemed to like my new, uncompromising attitude. She smiled faintly as I left.

  Putting one boot in front of the other as I walked down the long, long corridors of Corvus felt like a journey of countless miles, but it only took a few minutes. When I reached Centurion Graves’ office, I put my hand on the key-plate and it opened immediately. Graves must have set it to recognize me and let me in.

  “Ah, there you are McGill!” he said. He wore a twist of the lips I didn’t recognize at first. He was smiling with half his mouth. I couldn’t recall ever having seen him smile before.

  I stepped into the office and had a look around. Almost everything was steel, but there were skins on the walls—big ones. I couldn’t make out a single species. They were mostly gray or mottled brown, but there was a black one as shiny and curved as a beetle’s back. In fact, that’s what I thought it was: the shell of a huge insect. I wondered where Graves had gotten them all.

  “Admiring my collection?” the Centurion asked. “You’ll have one of your own someday if you keep up the good work.”

  I rotated my neck slowly, taking it all in.

  “I don’t know why you’re happy with my performance, sir,” I said.

  “Because you did what no one else could do. You won the day.”

  “That’s not what the Nairbs told me. They said we’d lost the challenge. The saurians won—unless they changed their minds.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “That never, ever happens. Once a Nairb makes up his mind and makes a judgment call, they don’t reverse it.”

  I frowned. “Then we’ve been kicked off the planet? We lost the contract here and the neighboring worlds?”

  “Not at all. Sure, we lost the battle. But we won where it counts—in fact, you won for us.”

  “I understand you’re happy with my performance, even if you have a strange way of demonstrating it. But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The revival units, of course. The Nairbs checked the imprints, and you were right. It’s all in their report.”

  “But sir, if we lost the battle…”

  He lifted up a single finger and held it near his face.

  “Yes. We lost the key battle. But we won Steel World by forfeit. Sheer genius on your part. Surely, you can’t stand there and tell me you have no idea what you’ve done?”

  I was baffled. But it’s in my nature to bluff it through in situations like this. Just ask my parents and professors.

  “Of course I know what I did: I gave them the evidence. I showed them that the lizards were using revival technology. But the Nairbs said it didn’t matter, since we were using it too.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Graves. “At that point, you felt you must have failed. Well, you didn’t. You see, the Nairbs don’t just do body counts. They check into every detail, every nook and cranny. They found a violation that disqualified the saurians.”

  “A violation? You mean they cheated?”

  “Worse,” Graves said excitedly. “They violated patent laws! The Nairbs investigated and demanded to see their revival units and the receipts for their purchase. There was no paperwork, no licensing—nothing. The saurians pirated the tech. They probably got hold of one of the units and copied it as best they could. We now suspect that they wanted our revival unit not only to deprive us of its use but to study it and copy its advanced design.”

  I was finally beginning to get it. We’d lost—but the saurians had been declared cheaters. They’d broken Galactic Law and been disqualified. We’d won by forfeit. But I was still mad about being blown up arbitrarily.

  “I still fail to see why you had to kill me after my victory. If I’m a hero, didn’t I warrant a pick-up?”

  Graves twisted his face into a look of disgust. “Such whining… I hadn’t expected to hear this from you, McGill. We’re grown-ups in this legion. We fight, we die—and then we fight again. It’s no big deal. Besides, I was told you were operating on a bad grow. You should be happy to have a fully-functional body again.”

  “I still don’t see why—”

  “Suck it up, McGill! We won th
e war, and you helped materially in achieving that goal. That’s the job of every soldier in this legion. What do you want? A parade? Flowers?”

  “Flowers would be nice, yes.”

  Graves snorted and shook his head. I could tell there weren’t going to be any flowers.

  Somehow however, his attitude made me less upset. In his eyes, I was being a baby. Right or wrong, it helped to understand that. I had to wonder how many times he’d died, how many years he’d fought for Legion Varus—and how many hard decisions he’d had to make.

  For the first time since I’d been revived, a ghostly smile appeared on my lips. I realized I should be basking in the light of victory, and I felt better.

  “So it wasn’t all for nothing,” I said, musing.

  “Certainly not. We still hold the contract to this world and all its neighbors. The work of Legion Varus is never easy, but we always get the job done.”

  I looked at him and frowned again. “But sir, did you really have to launch a missile and blow me up?”

  Graves huffed and shook his head. “You sound like Harris. Really, McGill, as a heavily-equipped legionnaire on our next campaign, you shouldn’t be so sentimentally attached to the corpse you happen to be residing in at the moment. It’s unseemly.”

  “Heavily-equipped? I’m going to be a heavy trooper, with armor?”

  “Not just that. Every recruit is considered for advancement to heavy equipment after their first campaign. No, I’m recommending you for training as a weaponeer. I’ve reviewed the reports, and I was impressed by your improvisation with the equipment.”

  I stared at him for a moment. Internally, I was thinking that it hadn’t been all that impressive. All I’d done was use the plasma tube as a reptile tongue-depressor. But when you’re being promoted, it’s best not to downplay your accomplishments.

  “Nothing to say, McGill?” Graves asked stiffly. “You’ve been honored, man. Congratulations.”

  I really didn’t know what to say for a moment, but then I had it: “Thank you, sir.”

  Those words didn’t come easily for me. I could still see that missile arcing down to obliterate my body, and I still felt a twinge of that sick feeling left over from knowing I was about to die—again.