One Good Soldier

by Travis S. Taylor

  "It is an honor to meet you, Deanna. I would love to know more about you. Please tell me more about yourself." The elevator reached the top floor, and the doors slid open. Ahmi led her across a foyer and to another security door. The door slid open, and they stepped into a second elevator. This elevator was a transparent cylinder that only went up one floor. The door to the elevator was half of the cylinder, which slid around inside the other half. The two of them stepped out of it into a very large cylindrical room. The elevator door closed once they stepped free, and then the elevator itself sunk into the floor and disappeared.

  "Lights please, Copernicus. Make them sixty percent. And make all the windows transparent. Our guest has never seen the rings rise over New Tharsis," Ahmi said out loud. Dee assumed that she was talking to her AIC.

  Suddenly the walls turned transparent, as did the dome overhead. Other than a few structural members here and there, Dee suddenly felt as if she were standing atop a very tall building that was sitting on top of a very high peak. It was breathtaking, and she nearly lost her balance at first. To the east, the multicolored brilliance of the rings of the fourth planet of the Tau Ceti system filled the horizon. Two other moons were visible on the horizon as well. They were fairly bright. Dee wondered if either of them was the QMT facility she had seen earlier.

  "Please, have a seat." Ahmi pointed her to the couch in her seating area. From the look of it, the crazy terrorist didn't entertain much. "Would you like some food or something to drink?"

  Dee, the first rule of being a captive is to eat and drink if you get the chance, her AIC told her. You never know when you'll get that chance again.

  Okay.

  "I could eat. And I'm thirsty," she said. She made herself comfortable on the couch of the most wanted woman in humanity. Well, she wasn't really comfortable. In fact, she was shaking with fear and anger, and she just wanted out of there. But Dee was doing her best to stay brave.

  "I'm having dinner sent up." Ahmi seemed more like a person entertaining a guest than a kidnapper talking to her victim. "What would you like? Do you have any allergies I should know about?"

  "Uh, no, uh, allergies." Dee was almost bewildered by the way Ahmi spoke to her. Had she not been so frightening, she might have thought of the woman as nice. But Ahmi's reputation killed any such notions.

  "Good. You should try our bison. It is amazing. Does that sound okay with you?" Ahmi asked her.

  "Why am I here?" Dee blurted at her. She sat on her hands so they wouldn't shake.

  "Well, you are straight to the point, aren't you? Good. Don't ever change that," Ahmi replied. Dee wasn't sure, but she thought the Separatist terrorist leader had just given her advice. "You are here because I wanted to meet you. And your parents and I have been at odds for so long, it is time we brought it all to a, well, a climax, if you will."

  "What type of climax? You—you're planning to attack them, aren't you?"

  "Oh, my dear, I guess you missed all the excitement today. You see, the Ross 128 system seceded from the United States today and joined me. Your father sent a ship to stop the secession, and today shall be the day that the Separatist Revolution is no longer considered a terrorist activity and will become the United Separatist Republic in the eyes of the rest of humanity," Ahmi explained. Then she zoned out briefly as if she were talking to her AIC. "Ah. Dinner is here."

  That was fast, Bree thought to her.

  Yeah. We don't get that kind of service in the White House.

  Well, your dad isn't likely to shoot the chef in the head, either.

  You never know.

  The elevator slid up through the floor, and Elle retrieved the food tray. She rolled the cart over to the edge of the entertaining area of her office, next to one of the large windows, and uncovered it. Ahmi started setting the food out on a small two-person dining table butted up against the window. Dee hadn't noticed the little table before. It was very bistro-esque and actually, with the view, was probably one of the choiceest dining spots in the entire system.

  "Come on, dear." Ahmi waved to her. "I haven't eaten all day, and I haven't had a dinner guest in, oh, six years."

  "Uh, okay." Dee hesitantly joined the woman at the table. The complete experience was so surreal that Dee felt like she was having a very strange nightmare. She was frightened out of her mind, intrigued, entertained, and wasn't sure what to expect next.

  "Oh hell, I forgot all about this thing." Ahmi reached up behind her head and fed her ponytail down through her mask and then pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed it on the love seat nearest the dinner table. She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, letting it fall on her shoulders. "I've worn that thing for so damned long, sometimes I forget I'm wearing it."

  Dee looked at the woman's face closely and didn't have to study it at all to recognize her. The milky white skin, the long, straight black hair, her nose, her mouth, the dimples in her smile, her deep brown eyes, there was no better likeness of her mother other than her mother that she had ever seen. Dee felt faint, very faint.

  "What the . . . ?" She had no words, and she wavered in front of the dining chair.

  "Oh. I figured you'd already know," Ahmi said. "Sit down, child, before you fall down and hurt yourself. I just can't understand why they wouldn't tell you at your age."

  "Who, who are you?" Dee didn't understand at all what was going on. Her mind spun wildly, trying to grasp at an explanation that made sense, but there wasn't one she could wrap her mind around. Why did Elle Ahmi look just like her mother, Sehera Moore?

  "Why, I'm your grandmother, of course."

  Chapter 19

  July 1, 2394 AD

  Ross 128, Arcadia Orbital QMT Facility

  Friday, 3:13 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

  "Goddamned déjà vu all over again, hey, Tommy?" Corporal Danny Bates told the gunnery sergeant. Tommy didn't think it was ha-ha funny. He thought it was funny in that "Oh shit" kind of way. They had yet to meet any human forces the entire time they had been on the surface. On the other hand, the resistance from the autosnipers and AA cannons had been a real pain in the ass.

  "Yeah, Danny, if you consider there ain't nobody here, anywhere. At least last time Top and the colonel got to let go some rounds," Tommy told his longtime friend. The fact that they had met no resistance at the hangar entrance, or the corridor leading inward to the inner rings of the facility, or finally to the elevator leading up into the QMT control room, or anywhere, was just goddamned eerie. It was too goddamned eerie, and it gave Tommy the skin-crawls.

  "LT? We got nothing up here. We found what should be the control room, but there is nothing here at all." Suez checked his suit's sensors again, and the only movement they could detect was each other and the occasional automated janitor bots.

  "Gunny, just hold tight. The Madira is dropping in some engineers. Place a beacon on the ground and back off," Second Lieutenant Nelms ordered him. "I'll be up in a few minutes, when Willingham and I finish sweeping the lower decks. Top and the colonel are on their way up now."

  "Roger that, sir." Tommy motioned to PFC Howser. "Drop a QMT locator, Howser."

  "Roger that, Gunny." She pulled a QMT beacon out of a compartment on the side of her e-suit, popped the safety, and dropped it on the floor. The beacon flashed a red light on and off once about every two seconds. They all backed away and stood at ready.

  The blinking red light flashed to green, and then a bright flash of light filled the room briefly. There was a sound of crackling and sizzling like that of bacon frying in a skillet. The next thing the marines knew, there were three Navy chief warrant officers standing in front of them.

  "Gunny," the lead warrant officer, a CWO-4, nodded to Suez and then turned to his men and started jabbering about finding the membrane ripple controller and the wavefunction transfer initiator. The three men scanned every inch of the control room and then began pulling panels off of circuit boxes and searching through drawers and cabinets.

  "Chief,
if you need any extra muscle, just ask. Otherwise, we'll be over here standing guard," Tommy offered the technical specialists.

  "Thanks, Gunny. I was hoping we'd have better luck, but this control room looks like it hasn't been used in months. You should see the one back at the Oort." The chief turned back to one of the men that had plugged a hardwire universal data port cable into one of the panel computer's readouts. The other end of the wire was in a box on his shoulder. "Anything?"

  "You're right. This control room hasn't been used in months," the tech expert replied. "This room was locked out. Hell, as far as I can tell the entire facility has been locked out. It's being controlled from somewhere else."

  "Somewhere else?" the CWO-4 asked.

  "Looks like there is a QM wireless between the initiators and the planet below."

  "Any idea where?"

  "Yep. Got it."

  "All right, pack it up then," the chief ordered the other two. They both unplugged themselves from various panels and stowed their gear in packs. "Madira, away party ready to return. Snap-back beacon is on."

  "Good day, Gunny." The CWO-4 smiled and vanished in a flash of light.

  "What the fuck was that all about?" Bates asked.

  "Damned if I know," Suez replied. "You'd think they'd at least have waited for the colonel to get here."

  "So what now, Gunny?" PFC Howser asked him.

  "We wait for the colonel and see what our orders are. I'd say for now, pop your lids and relax." Tommy twisted his helmet off and tethered it over his shoulder.

  "CO! CDC!"

  "Go CDC!"

  "Sir, we've got a massive buildup across the EM bands. There's a QMT coming in."

  "Roger that, CDC. Stay on top of it," Rear Admiral Jefferson said over the intercom to the Combat Direction Center commander. "XO?"

  "Should be the Lincoln, the Roosevelt, and the Jefferson. It's time for them, sir," BG Chekov answered the admiral.

  "STO, is it them?"

  "Can't tell yet, Admiral. Hold on, sir." The STO tapped at his console and listened to his AIC briefly and then replied. "Aye, sir. I'm getting their squawk, sir."

  "Good. The party was getting a little lonely." RADM Jefferson shifted the view of the main screen to the port side where the QMT throw forward had exited. In the middle of the viewscreen were three U.S. supercarriers. Wallace sent them all a greeting via DTM.

  "CO, I've got the report back from the tech team that teleported down to the facility control room," the STO said without looking up from his station.

  "Let me hear it, STO."

  "Aye, sir. The facility is completely automated from somewhere on the planet's surface. There appears to be no possible method for overriding the lock-out codes. However, the location of the planetside control room was determined as the coordinates I'm sending you now, sir, along with the rest of their report." The STO paused for a breath.

  "So we don't have to read a goddamned report, Monte, why don't you tell us where it is?" the XO snapped.

  "Uh, yes, XO. I overlaid the coordinates on a topographical map of the planet. It is in the governor's mansion, sir," Captain Monte Freeman answered.

  "Well then." The XO grinned. "Looks like we need to send some folks to visit the capital of this fine colony, Admiral."

  "I couldn't agree with you more, XO. Get everybody off that rock, and let's get us a battleplan figured out five minutes ago. I want to hit that region in fifteen minutes." The admiral thought about his next move. They had to have control of the facility in order to get home. Their orders were to stop the secession by taking the government of the planet anyway. This way they got to kill two birds with one stone. "Start QMTing the personnel up and get the Starhawks out there bringing in the tanks. Let's just leave the fighter squadrons out. They can cover our approach in to the planet. Luckily for us, we only have to go straight down."

  "Roger that, Admiral." The XO nodded in agreement. "Ground Boss, you heard the admiral. Get our tanks in here A-S-fucking-A-P."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Admiral, I've got an idea, sir," the STO said. "Why bring the ground mecha squadrons in and then drop them out again?"

  "You have a better idea how to get those heavy beasties off the asteroid and down to the planet, Monte?" the XO interjected.

  "Uh, yes, sir. We QMT the things one at a time from the asteroid, to the ship, to the surface in one QMT control algorithm. The QMT pad in the AEM hangar is big enough to handle one tank and a few troops at a time. With the help of the Roosevelt, Lincoln, and Tyler, it should go pretty fast." The STO pulled up a graphic displaying the speed they could do it and DTMed it to the bridge crew.

  "Hmmm." The CO rubbed at his chin. "Might work."

  "The only problem, sir, is we need to know where to send them."

  "Larry! Get me a battlescape five seconds ago!" the admiral said to the XO.

  "Aye, sir."

  "CO! CDC!" The Combat Direction Center hailed the bridge.

  "Go, CDC." RADM Jefferson adjusted his posture in his chair.

  "We've got an incoming QMT, sir! EM bands through the roof!"

  "Where, CDC!"

  "Just inside the orbit of the second moon, about two hundred thousand kilometers off our port bow, sir!"

  "Commo!" the admiral shouted.

  "Sir?" The communications officer snapped her head up from her console and turned toward the CO.

  "Get a command channel open between me and all the fleet ships!"

  "Aye, sir." The comm officer turned back to her panel and then shouted back over her shoulder. "Channel open, CO."

  "CO Madira to fleet! We've got incoming. Pull into a tight cover formation on the Madira and start teleporting my tank mecha from the QMT facility to the coordinates on the planet my XO is sending you now. My STO is sending the algorithm to automate the QMT process." Jefferson hit the mute button on his chair arm and turned to the XO and STO. "Get this done now, guys."

  "Aye, sir!"

  "Assume this is an all-out offensive folks, and we're likely to be outnumbered," he continued over the open channel. "Get your fighters out now! Good luck and Godspeed."

  Wallace looked outside the ship in his DTM view and zoomed out to the QMT disturbance of the incoming. The light ball was just vanishing, and then eleven red blips appeared on his mindview battlescape. He zoomed in farther and could tell that there were four ships like the one he had seen earlier that might as well be called supercarriers, five of what looked like Seppy battle cruisers, and two old Seppy rustbucket haulers.

  Shit, we are so outnumbered, he thought.

  Maybe we should jaunt away and come up with a better plan, sir, Uncle Timmy replied.

  Negative, Tim. When under attack and outnumbered, the best strategy is always to strike first. But we have got to get our guys off that damned rock, fast.

  Aye, sir. Then might I suggest we try to break them up as best we can and create two fronts for them to fight on?

  I agree with that. Synchronize our blue-red force trackers with the fleet now.

  Done, sir.

  "Fleet, CO Madira! Focus all directed energy weapons on bogy two. Looks like a supercarrier, so treat as one. And assume they have personnel QMT, so keep your SIFs rotating or you risk being boarded."

  The fleet vehicles had pulled into position over the QMT facility and had started teleporting the tankheads to the surface one tank—and as many AEMs or AAIs as they could pile on it—at a time. The tankheads, the AEMs, and the AAIs would have to fend for themselves for a while without air support. They should be able to hold their own against the Armored National Guard of the Arcadian Colony, providing the Arcadians didn't get help from the Separatist ships above them.

  The fleet supercarriers began pouring directed energy beams onto the targeted Seppy supercarrier. The green DEG beams from the four fleet supercarriers washed the enemy ship from bow to stern. They kept pouring the energy at the vehicle continuously until the SIFs of the ship failed and hull plating began boiling off into space and seco
ndary explosions burst out all across the vessel. The enemy ship listed to port into one of the Seppy haulers, and the rustbucket crumpled as the supercarrier tore into the side. Both ships listed together with explosion after explosion bursting from their seams.

  "Those two ships are gonna need a shitload of duct tape," the COB remarked.

  "Gunnery officer, keep pouring on the DEGs until we absolutely have to switch targets," the admiral ordered.

  "Aye, sir!"

  Then the rest of the Seppy vehicles spread out and began returning fire.

  "All right, let's start the evasive maneuvers and keep the QMT algorithm going." Jefferson braced himself, expecting impacts from Seppy missiles and guns as soon as they were in range. They were already in DEG range. The speed-of-light limit, though, would make targeting tough at that distance. They had been lucky in that the Seppy ships were stationary. Hitting a maneuvering target at that range was difficult since there was a significant fraction of a second that ticked by between when the ships were targeted in the optical sensor and when the DEG beam actually reached the target.

  "How do you want the Air Wing separated, Admiral?" the air boss shouted.

  "I want them all to take it to the first Seppy supercarrier that gets in flight range! Navy and Marines both hit that ship as soon as we get in range. No fighters to the planet yet."

  "Aye, sir!"

  Two of the enemy supercarriers went into hyperspace and jaunted the gap in less than a second. They popped out of the hyperspace conduit at thirty thousand kilometers altitude orbit just beneath them and the QMT facility. They were right on top of them.

  "All right, those are bogies one and seven. All mecha to one, all fleet vessels focus on seven! Roosevelt, hold back and cover our ass from those targets above."

  "Roger that CO Madira. Roosevelt taking up the rear!" the CO of the Roosevelt replied.

  "CO! CDC!"

  "Go, CDC!"