One Good Soldier

by Travis S. Taylor

  "Fox three!" Skinny shouted. Her bot-mode mecha overshot Deuce slightly, but intentionally. Deuce could see her bounce to the ground, running and flipping over enemy mecha, slamming down on the Arcadian tanks with her armored feet as she did so. Deuce was right behind her.

  "Guns, guns, guns!" Deuce washed the line with her DEG, blasting a tank off the back of Warlord Nine. After firing her mammoth handheld DEG, she turned and rammed the mecha's left elbow through the cockpit of a tank behind her. The enemy tank grabbed at her, pulling her backward and almost off balance. With right pedal and manipulation of the armature controls, she rolled off the enemy tank and took her bot through a handspring over the top of it, then tucked into one of her trademark judo rolls. She followed through the roll by putting the elbow of the forearm of the mecha down first and then the back, buttocks, legs, and then back up to her feet, firing away with the shoulder-mounted auto-cannons. Her DEG in her left hand waved back and forth, looking for targets to either shoot or smack.

  "Warning, enemy targeting system is acquiring lock. Warning . . ."

  Still a little dizzy from her roll, Deuce used her DTM targeting system, focusing on the vehicle that was targeting her. It wasn't a vehicle at all, but instead a mobile AA and anti-tank turret firing away at her. She kicked at two of the pedals on her left side and yanked the stick, sending the bot spinning like a figure skater.

  She couldn't get a lock with her DEG, and she was way too close for missiles. She decided to go with the DEG anyway. "Guns, guns, guns!"

  The DEG directed a plasma burst of energy that tracked across the AA box, burning away one of the barrels of the cannons. The missing barrel caused the box to misfire and explode on itself, destroying the box.

  "Where are you, Skinny?"

  "I'm behind you, Deuce." Skinny shouted over the net, and Deuce spotted her on the right and behind her. "Look out, Warlord Three! You've got one on your three-nine line!"

  Deuce launched herself in the air with a giant leap, and she kept her mind on that damned tank. She rolled over at the crux of her jump and slammed feet forward into the upper torso of the bot-mode tank like a martial artist doing an aerial double frontkick. The two mecha clanged together briefly, but Deuce's forward momentum sent the enemy tank flailing over backward and through a middle-aged fir tree. The tree snapped off at the base of the trunk. Warlord Three pounced just in time to pick up the tree and stab it through the cockpit of the Arcadian mecha. Pieces of fir tree flew everywhere and erupted into flame in a ball of smoke and ash.

  "Thanks, Deuce!"

  "Welcome, Three." Deuce continued forward and out of the way as Skinny came in behind her, settling up to her mecha back-to-back fashion. The two of them scanned for more targets. There were plenty. It was more of an issue of which one to go after first.

  "Two o'clock, Deuce!" Skinny shouted and pounced away toward another bot-mode enemy tank, her auto-cannons firing off forty-millimeter rounds as she launched over it in a full throttle leap. She pitched forward over Deuce's head, firing her DEG from the hip into the tank's wingman before it even realized what had happened. But the shot wasn't a kill shot, and the enemy wingman turned on Skinny and started to raise his cannon to track her.

  "I got it!" Jawbone butted in as she landed on top of the bot, squashing the torso to the point that metal reached its elastic limit and gave way. The knees of the enemy mecha faltered, and one of the Army tankheads put a round through the cockpit of the thing just to be sure.

  "That's what I'm talking about!" Jawbone said through the grunts and growls that the g-load had forced her into. "Popstar, watch your four o'clock, girl! Guns, guns, guns!"

  "Great work, Saviors. Let's keep it frosty!" Deuce shook her head to clear the spins. More radar warnings pinged at her, and she tossed an oak tree down that she had been wielding in her right hand as a club. Cannon tracers passed by her on the left, and then something pushed her over. She started to fight back until she realized it was a blue-force vehicle that hit her.

  "Look out, Marine!" Warlord One rolled off of her and onto his back, firing upward at two enemy tanks leaping on top of them. "Fox three, fox three!" He let loose two missiles that hit home dead center on the two tanks. They blew apart from the torso, scattering mechanical arms and legs in every direction.

  "Thanks, Warlord One." Deuce rolled over and searched for her wingman in her DTM. Then she settled down and located the rest of the Saviors as they scattered around the Warlords. They needed a plan that was a little less random.

  "Anytime, jarhead."

  "Saviors, we need to fan out in a half moon, covering our flanks and leaving the moon open behind us to the north. That way we can work away from the mansion, giving the AEMs some cushion. Warlords, feel free to jump in there and give us what cover you can!"

  "Roger that, Saviors," Warlord One responded over the net. "Get down, Nine! Guns, guns, guns!"

  Three enemy tanks in bot mode came crashing through the trees. Deuce hit her thrusters, launching into a backflip. As her bot twisted over the scrambling Warlords, she pointed her DEG in the general direction of the Arcadian tanks. Her directed energy plasma bursts ablated some of the armored hull of the tanks, and her auto-cannons poked holes where the DEG didn't get. One of the tanks was crippled. The other two took on some damage but weren't out of commission.

  Auto-cannons, Bobby! she ordered her AIC.

  Got it! The AIC tracked the enemy tank on her left, but it was having a hard time locking it up.

  "I got the third one!" Popstar burned it down in a mad charge, firing her DEG.

  Deuce pursued the remaining wounded one, which then turned on her and one of the Warlords. The enemy tank tried to go to its DEG and shoot from the hip, but the Warlord grabbed the end of the barrel and tried to yank it away, which led to a tug-of-war between the two mecha. Their struggle was enough for Deuce to get the upper hand. She managed to get the end of her DEG pointed into the cockpit of the enemy mecha, and then she pulled the trigger.

  Great move, Deuce!

  "Watch your backside, Deuce," Skinny's voice buzzed.

  Deuce dropped and spun as best she could manage, but a tree trunk caught her in the side of her torso, sending her flying across the battlefield and down. The enemy tankhead was good and managed to keep her too busy to go to offense. Every instant required her to make a new block or dodge.

  "Jump up, Deuce!" Skinny shouted. "He's got help coming in on your seven!"

  "Warning, enemy targeting lock imminent! Warning, enemy targeting lock imminent!" said her Bitchin' Betty.

  "Shit, I'm locked up!" Deuce jumped and went full throttle, but she didn't jump away from the enemy tanks. Instead, she attacked the wingman of the one that had just locked her up. Her bot-mode mecha propelled full-force into the enemy tank as it fired its cannons at her. Several rounds splashed against her hull, and a few of them actually tore through her wing. She tackled the tank at the shoulders, spinning it around. His wingman hesitated at that point, which was just enough time for her to push off the tank she had tackled and run into the mix of Army tanks and Marine FM-12s to break up his lock. Or so she thought.

  "Warning, enemy missile lock! Warning, enemy missile lock!"

  The Arcadian tankhead fired a mecha-to-mecha missile that was locked on her. The missile twisted through the traffic and caught her square in the back as she pulled the ejection handle. Her ejection seat shot out of the explosion at a low angle up through the trees, pounding into them and flipping end over end. Several large tree limbs broke off into the seat and Deuce's body until the seat cleared the tree canopy on a ballistic trajectory that then fell right back through the trees. This time the tree limbs were a blessing, as they slowed her descent, but they weren't blessing enough. Deuce came to a stop against a giant boulder near the river, her neck broken and her heartbeat failing.

  I'm a goner, Bobby.

  Just rest, Caroline. I'm administering immunoboost, stims, and pain medication.

  Oh, God.

  I'
ve triggered the beacon. Help will be here soon.

  It was great serving with you, Bobby.

  The honor has been mine, Colonel.

  Deuce flatlined, but the suit managed to bring her back.

  Stay with me, Caroline.

  As she tunneled out for the last time, she was blinded by a brilliant white light.

  Chapter 28

  July 1, 2394 AD

  Ross 128, Arcadia Orbit

  Friday, 3:45 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

  "We're all stop, CO! Approximately three astronomical units from Arcadia out of the ecliptic," Nav announced.

  "Good job, Penny!" the admiral replied. "XO, COB, get my ship back in order."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Air Boss, how is the QMT of the fighters coming?"

  "We'll be at one hundred percent within the minute, sir."

  "Good. As soon as that is done, have the wounded QMT protocols sped up. I don't want to lose a good soldier because we couldn't get them to sickbay in time."

  "Aye, sir."

  Wallace scanned the ship in his DTM, trying to figure out his next move. It wouldn't take long for the Seppy ships to figure out where they were. The interesting thing would be to see if they attacked them there, or if they took the QMT facility back, or if they'd try to protect the QMT control facility on the planet below at Capitol City.

  Whatever the Seppy bastards did, he needed a new strategy. Casualty reports from the first wave were huge. The Lincoln was dead in the water, and the Tyler had lost Aux Prop and several DEG batteries. The Roosevelt and the Madira were in the best shape, but they were limping a bit.

  "CO! CDC!"

  "Go, CDC!"

  Shit, what now? he thought.

  I'm detecting seven hyperspace jaunts, sir. I'm sure it's that, Uncle Timmy replied.

  "Sir! We just detected seven hyperspace jaunts. Five from the previous engagement zone and two from the enemy vessels that were waiting in reserve out by one of the moons," the combat direction center officer explained to him. Wallace didn't like what he was hearing. That was seven ships; they were coming to finish them off.

  "Roger that, CDC." Admiral Jefferson turned back to his XO. "Larry! We've got incoming. Let's get ready for it."

  "Aye, sir!"

  Sound the call, Tim.

  Aye, sir.

  "General quarters, general quarters, prepare for incoming attack. All hands, all hands, man your battlestations. Prepare for incoming attack. All hands, all hands, man your battlestations," Uncle Timmy announced again over the intercom and to all AICs.

  The bosun's pipe sounded throughout the ship, sending a chill over the already overworked crew. Considering that the day started with wargames in the desert of Mars and then wound up across the stars in a real shooting war, the admiral realized that his crew were performing like superhuman heroes. Sometimes, that wasn't enough. But according to his orders from the president, it had to be.

  "CO, the ships are coming out of jaunt near us at the following coordinates, sir. Uh, only one of them is coming out close to us. The others are a tenth of an AU off," the STO shouted over klaxons that started up. Wallace had his AIC turn the annoying things off.

  "Roger that, STO."

  "CO! CDC!"

  "We've got the ships coming out of hyperspace, CDC."

  "Uh, yes, sir. But, sir, we're picking up EM disturbances near the planet that would suggest QMT jumps."

  "Keep me posted, CDC. I hope that's our backup."

  "Aye, sir."

  "CO! That Seppy hauler is on a collision course for the Lincoln!" the Nav shouted.

  "I'm detecting activated gluonium, Admiral!" the STO added. They sure as hell didn't need to be around if the Seppies fired off a gluonium bomb that close.

  "Shit! Kamikaze, Admiral!" the COB shouted.

  "Helm, emergency jaunt away from here now!" Wallace sounded an alarm across the fleet ships and opened a channel. "Evasive jaunts immediately! Gluonium Kamikaze!"

  "Emergency jaunt, sir!" Helmsman Lieutenant Junior Grade Cindy Lewis frantically punched in the commands for an emergency jaunt. It would take the hyperspace projector a few seconds to spin up the quantum vortex required to pass out of normal space. Who knew if they had time?

  Wallace sat calm for the few seconds as they passed. The enemy hauler pulled in closer to the Lincoln and opened fire on it. All of its missiles, DEGs, and railguns poured into the wounded supercarrier's sections that housed the jaunt system. The Seppy ship moved closer and closer to the Lincoln, and Wallace could see that there was nothing he could do for them.

  "Goddamn those bastards!" He slammed his fist down against his chair arm. Just as the hyperspace vortex whirled around them and they blanked out of normal space, the Seppy kamikaze ship exploded. The Lincoln was vaporized instantly.

  A few seconds later, as the Madira popped out of hyperspace, the admiral managed to relax long enough to breathe. His DTM dinged in the updated blue-force tracking signals showing that the Tyler and the Roosevelt had managed to jaunt away before the hauler had exploded. The three U.S. supercarriers were battered and badly outnumbered. Or at least they had been. His blue-force system showed four new U.S. supercarriers: the USS Ronald Reagan, the USS Barack Obama, the USS Zachary Taylor, and the USS Andrew Jackson. There were still eight Seppy ships, but only four of them were supercarriers, and one of those supercarriers had taken a good bit of damage. The other four Seppy ships were battle cruiser class—about two-thirds the size of a supercarrier. Seven supercarriers to eight Seppy ships; finally some decent odds.

  "CO Madira, CO Obama!"

  "Goddamn, I'm glad to hear from you, Johnny!" Wallace answered Captain Johnny Practice's hail. He opened a channel to all the fleet ship captains. "I'm glad to see all four of you. Be advised. We just lost the Lincoln. She was totally destroyed. Her pilots and groundpounders are on the surface of Arcadia near the governor's mansion in the center of Capitol City. Our intel has determined that is where the QMT controls are. So do not destroy that mansion! In the meantime, we're a bit surrounded over here and could use a hand. We also need to put a couple ships on the planet to support the fight there. Carla, you and Johnny take the Obama and the Jackson down. Felix, you and Kiana form up on us here and see if we can't keep the Seppies away from our attack long enough to get that QMT system under our control."

  "Aye, Admiral!"

  Now things are gonna get a little better, he thought.

  Damn right, Admiral, Uncle Timmy agreed.

  "Admiral, the Seppy fleet is forming up on us. Looks like they brought their fighters with them, sir," the XO said.

  "Well, that will help out downstairs. All right, let's prepare to take incoming!"

  "Admiral, with that in mind, do we want to continue our plan to jaunt in two minutes back to the planet?" Commander Penny Swain, the nav officer, asked.

  "Good question, Penny." Wallace thought briefly. They were still outnumbered up here and in a ball. He still liked the idea of going to a bowl and being able to support the troops on the ground better. "Yes. Our men and women down there need us."

  Timmy, DTM the plan to the rest of the fleet.

  Aye, sir.

  "Joe! The SIF generators on the aft of the ship are down. There just aren't any other cooling systems to bring them down," Lieutenant Mira Concepcion shouted. The noise in the Engineering Room was a little too loud to talk at normal tones, and the stress from the ship being rocked back and forth didn't help.

  "Well, it sure as hell didn't take long for the Seppy mothers to find out where we jaunted to," Petty Officer Andy Sanchez added.

  "If y'all wanted peace and quiet you shouldn't have joined the Navy!" Joe scanned the three-dimensional diagram of the ship, looking at all the systems at once in detail all the way down to the nuts and bolts, transistors and integrated circuits, and quantum-fluctuation exciters and spacetime limiters. His problem right now was the universal one, one that caused almost all systems to end up failing: thermal management. Waste heat was the
hardest goddamned problem in all of physics and engineering to deal with. And now that one SIF generator was down, he was having to spread the structural integrity fields thin from the others to cover that section of the supercarrier. That meant that other SIF generators were now working even harder. It was an avalanche of disaster that only needed one or two more snowflakes to trigger it.

  I should've taken up business or marketing, he thought.

  Yeah, but then you'd be rich and would miss out on all this, his AIC, Debbie, replied in his mindvoice.

  "Too bad we can't just jaunt over the ice cap of this planet and cool the thing off," Andy said sarcastically.

  "I don't think that would work, Andy," the technology officer shouted over his shoulder. He had a flashlight between his teeth, power cabling draped across both shoulders, and a multitool in each hand, working away at an overloaded control circuit for the QMT power supply. The specialist warrant officers were the experts on the quantum-membrane teleportation technology, but those guys still needed good old-fashioned power, and all that came from Engineering. And, from what Joe could tell, the QMT had been working overtime since the battle started. That meant there were heavy casualties and/or a lot of troop movement.

  "Why not, Lieutenant?"

  "Well, you'd have to get the cold air in contact with the hot coolant somehow. Not sure how you'd do that. Oh shit!" A spark flew across the panel he had pulled out, discharging several thousand volts across his fingers. "That fucking hurt," he said, dropping the multitools and shaking his hands.

  "Watch yourself, Lieutenant. Do I need to get Andy over there to show you how to handle high voltage?" Joe laughed. Then, as he panned the three-D image by the flow loops between the aft SIF generator heat exchangers and the main coolant reservoir one deck below Engineering, it hit him. "Son of bitch, Andy! That just might work."

  "What will, Joe?"