Assault Troopers

by Vaughn Heppner

  “I’m sure that’s true,” I said. “But I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Leave then,” N7 said. “We are busy and you also have much to do.”

  “Claath will want to know this,” I said, and I felt the hostility of all four androids.

  “If you do not leave immediately,” N7 said, “I will have no choice but to administer a level three shock.”

  Those hurt, I knew, but I held my ground. “If I can make the Earth troops even several percentage points better, Claath is going to want to know. That will be worth a small interruption. And if you prevent me and he finds out later, he will be displeased with you.”

  “You have been warned,” N7 said. He pressed a stud on his belt.

  Pain lanced through my neck. I groaned, bowing my head, enduring.

  “Leave now,” I heard N7 say.

  “This is important,” I said between gritted teeth.

  The android clicked his belt again. The pain increased, and I dropped to one knee.

  “Go, or I will heighten the pain again,” N7 said.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “The beast is clearly too stubborn for use,” the other android said. “Destroy it at once.”

  Once more, the pain slammed through me even more powerfully. I fought it, but crumpled onto my stomach, unable to coordinate my actions. I needed to talk to Claath. I needed a change in our assault procedures and for the sake of possible freedom would endure more of this if I had to. Unfortunately, it was bad for morale for the troopers to see this happen to their overman. It might even make it more difficult to—

  Abruptly, the pain ceased. I found myself gasping on the floor, with the inside of my mouth feeling like sandpaper.

  “You are being devious,” N7 said, as he crouched beside me. “I highly recommend you to change your mind and leave while you are able.”

  “Can’t,” I whispered. “The troopers are my responsibility. I’ve found a way to increase our efficiency. I have to tell Claath so he’ll agree to do it. If that means I die now—” I swallowed painfully. “I have to risk it.”

  N7 rose so he towered over me. “You have sealed your doom.”

  Straining my neck to look up, I said, “One way or another Claath will find out I tried to tell you. How will he react to your causal destruction of his property and my data?”

  The other android spoke up. “I realize I have committed myself to non-communication while in the beast’s presence, but I feel I must object, N7. The beast is right concerning Shah Claath.”

  “The beast is dangerous primarily because he is devious,” N7 said.

  “The records indicate the beast is dangerous because it attacks unpredictably and with ferocious zeal.”

  “I have studied the beasts more than you have,” N7 said.

  “True,” the other android said. “But that does not make my observation incorrect.”

  N7 turned away from the other android and away from me. I waited on the floor. Finally, N7 said, “Come with me, Creed-beast.”

  “Are you taking it to Shah Claath?” the other android asked.

  “I am the senior android,” N7 said. “I will instruct you of my decisions when I desire, not at your request. Continue monitoring the exercise.”

  A second later, a powerful plastic grip tightened around my right triceps. The fingers struck a nerve and make my shoulder twitch. Then N7 hauled me to my feet and propelled me toward a distant exit.

  Both my neck and back were stiff, and I found it difficult to stand straight. I didn’t want to endure the pain again, ever.

  “There are higher levels of punishment,” N7 said. He spoke from behind so his breath brushed against my neck. His grip continued to steady me. “I have witnessed Shah Claath testing an obedience chip. The test subject curled up like a bug on fire until the muscles tore from the strain. The screams I heard…I will never forget it.”

  I was too exhausted to give a snappy retort.

  “Your stubbornness gifts you with unnatural reserves of strength,” N7 said. “What I witnessed a moment ago was interesting. You endured greater pain than any other of the assault troopers to date. It would be an unfortunate loss for you to die. Nevertheless, if you have wasted Shah Claath’s time, I will suggest he destroy you.”

  “Covering your ass?” I whispered.

  N7 shoved me, and I stumbled, barely able to keep my feet.

  “Getting emotional it seems, android.”

  “After several hours of deliberation yesterday,” N7 said, “I have concluded that your quaint sayings are attempts at insubordination. I will no longer tolerate them. I am your superior. In fact, you will consider me as your god.”

  I massaged my neck, and moved my head from side to side. “Did you get a new upgrade since the last time we talked?”

  “I am a combat assault android,” N7 said. “I neither have time for useless questions nor… Head that way,” he said, “to your right.”

  I saw a smaller exit and headed for it. N7 didn’t say anything more after that. I don’t know why he paused or why he was going a different way than normal. We walked down utilitarian steel corridors. There were handrails on the sides. It indicated that sometimes this area must have weightlessness. I saw what looked like junction boxes and giant grills. Cold air pumped through those and the atmosphere had a metallic scent.

  “I’ve never been this way before,” I said.

  “Time is critical,” N7 said. “Run.”

  When the android meant run, he didn’t mean jog. I tried jogging. He shoved me from behind. Soon, I ran down the large corridor, with the android at my heels, pushing me whenever I moved too slowly. Several months ago on Earth, I would have started sweating after the third mile. I’d been in shape then as a Black Sand mercenary, but nothing like what I’d become here.

  “Slow down,” N7 said after a time.

  I estimated that we’d traveled at least six miles, most of the way while running. During that time, I’d been attempting to memorize the route. The battlejumper was huge. It wasn’t anything like the Lokhar dreadnought, but it was still big, maybe a good four miles in diameter.

  “Who works the ship?” I asked. “I know Claath gives the orders, but who actually does the doing?”

  “That way,” N7 said.

  We entered a narrower corridor. These had carpets on the floor.

  “Is this where Claath lives?” I asked.

  “Speech is forbidden,” N7 said. “Disobedience will result in intense punishment.”

  “HALT!” a voice boomed from hidden speakers.

  From behind, N7 grabbed my shoulder, stopping me. I looked up, and saw a weapon nozzle pointing down from the ceiling. The orifice was sooty. It could have been a flamethrower.

  “THIS IS FORBIDDEN TERRITORY,” the voice said.

  N7 spoke fast, rattling off a series of numbers and letters.

  Ahead of us, a steel bulkhead slammed down. Behind us, the same thing happened like in the Get Smart movie with Agent 86. We were trapped like mice in a maze.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Claath asked from the hidden speakers. “Why have you brought the creature into my personal area?”

  “I suspect Creed-beast of heightened intrigue,” N7 said. “I have anticipated your wrath, sir. You have warned me of him and I believe you have grown weary of his attempts to subvert androids. Therefore, I have brought him here because I anticipated your desire to destroy him in an amusing manner. The pit—”

  “That’s enough, N7,” Claath said. “The beast…why do you believe him guilty of heightened intrigue?”

  “He wished for an interview with you, sir.”

  “I’ve spoken with him before,” Claath said. “Why is this different?”

  “He spoke about ways to increase beast efficiency in the coming assault.”

  “And?” Claath asked.

  “I told him to give me specifics,” N7 said. “I told him I would tell you.”

  “Please hurry with your explanati
on,” Claath said. “I have important meetings I need to attend.”

  “Creed-beast refused to tell me even after I administered a level five punishment,” N7 said.

  “What? Level Five? You first administered the lower level shocks?”

  “Yes, sir,” N7 said.

  “Did he tell you?”

  “Sir,” N7 said. “He maintained silence throughout the punishments. He continued to say that he needed to tell you himself. I found that uncommonly stubborn.”

  “Did he supply a reason for his ability to withstand level five pain?”

  “Yes, sir,” N7 said. “He claimed to do it because of duty to his cohort.”

  “This is interesting,” Claath said. “Yes, I applaud your initiative, N7. You are correct. The creature attempts intrigue on the cusp of battle. I do find that I need to unwind from the endless planning. Watching the beast expire before the females—” Claath chuckled like a devil.

  It caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stir. It felt as if axe blade hovered there or the sword of Damocles, ready to cut skin and bones. I took that as a definite signal. It was time to talk. “I don’t know why you think I’m an intriguer,” I said.

  “Come, come,” Claath said. “It is insulting to be taken for a buffoon. Clearly, you are intriguing. You have never stopped intriguing despite your clumsy attempts at subterfuge. But go ahead. What is your great revelation? It will be amusing to hear you spin your last lie.”

  “This is a matter of morale,” I said, “our morale.”

  “Beast morale?” Claath asked in a mocking voice.

  “No,” I said, “Earther morale.”

  “Why would I care about beast morale?” Claath asked.

  “For matters of our efficiency,” I said. “The better our morale, the better we fight for you.”

  “That is not the Jelk gauge,” Claath said. “Fall below the accepted category of effort, and you will be destroyed.”

  “You love threats,” I said. “It must make you feel superior, and no doubt the system works for you at some level. I’m talking about winning the battle, beating the Lokhars at their favorite game. Look, you haven’t attacked the Lokhars for ten years, right?”

  “Who told you that?” Claath asked.

  “What’s it matter?” I asked. “The key is if it’s true or not. If true, there has to be a reason for it.”

  “Who spoke to you about that?” Claath asked. “I demand you tell me.”

  “I did, sir,” N7 said, surprising me.

  There was silence over the speakers. Maybe the information surprised the Jelk, too. Finally, Claath said, “I will review your actions after the battle, N7, provided you survive the Lokhars.”

  “I’m sure you want us to fight hard,” I said. “And we plan to. We’ll give you everything we have. We want to survive and we hate the Lokhars for what they did to us. What I’m talking about are the instinctual things.”

  “The obedience chips will remain in place,” Claath said in a stern voice. “You are my creatures and you will remain under my control at all times.”

  “Sure, I expected nothing different.”

  “This isn’t the thrust of your request?” Claath asked, “The chip’s removal?”

  “Sure, I’d like it gone. We’re people and—”

  “We’ve been over this before,” Claath said.

  “Right,” I said. “You have the upper hand so you get to make the rules.”

  “We are superior in every way.”

  “Okay, I’m not arguing that,” I said. “I’m talking about a few percentage points gain, about our morale. You want those planetary defense stations neutralized. You want us boiling out of our assault ships and hitting the Lokhars as hard as we can. Like I said, I want to do the same thing. So we’re on the same page there. My…modification to the overall battle plan is tiny and it amounts to this: We want to know what’s going on around us as we go in.”

  “I do not understand,” Claath said.

  “You’re going to fire us at the enemy blind,” I said. “It’s like we’re riding coffins, not assault boats. We’re waiting in there staring at the walls wondering what’s going on. The unknown is worse than bad news, because we’re imagining all kinds of terrible things.”

  “The assault boat pilots will be too busy flying to keep up a running dialogue for you,” Claath said.

  “I don’t want them to tell us what’s going on anyway,” I said. “They could be lying to us the entire time. We want to know, to see it ourselves. We want to feel like we matter.”

  “This is foolishness.”

  “Put a camera on the assault boat and attached that to a viewing screen inside. Let us see what’s going on. If you want to really splurge, give us a radar image to give us a wider view of the situation.”

  “You are assault troopers,” Claath said. “Your task is to storm the station. How does the wider conflict—”

  “We want to know…sir,” I added. “We’d like to see the big picture. If we see our side is losing and that those PD stations have to go—that will wind us up to attack even harder.”

  “You should already be attacking as hard as you can,” Claath said.

  “Would have, could have, should have,” I said. “Theory is fine. I’m talking about real life. You of all people should understand.”

  “Why me?” Claath asked.

  “Because you’re a businessman,” I said. “You deal with the bottom line all the time. What brings you profits is all that matters. Well, in this fight, winning to us is profits to you.”

  “It is repugnant to compare the heightened and civilized art of the deal to barbaric blood sports as practiced by beasts,” Claath said.

  “Yeah, that’s how you look at it. I’m talking about giving yourself a few more percentage points in our chance of victory. It’s not a big deal, really, except to the trapped mercenaries riding a coffin into combat.”

  There was a pause, until Claath said, “You want to stick your head out the window.”

  Right away, I knew what he meant, and that it was demeaning to humans. When we were kids, my sister used to have a Maltese dog. My mother used to take us on family rides. My sister always rolled down her back window to let the Maltese stick its head out and feel the breeze. The dog would whine if she didn’t. Claath likened us to dogs. I wondered how the Jelk knew about something so mundane and Earth-centric.

  “Yes, we do,” I said.

  “Very well,” Claath said. “It will be done.”

  I already had my mouth open to make another point. Instead of speaking, I clicked my teeth together. I’d been to traffic court once, several months after getting my driver’s license at sixteen. I remember sitting in court, listening to the various people get up before the judge. There had been this scruffy biker wearing his OUTLAW jacket. He’d argued hard, and after a time, the judge had told him, “Case dismissed.” The scruffy biker had won. But the guy must have really wanted to prove his point. He’d been angry and just kept on talking. The judge tried to tell him it was over. The biker ignored him. The trouble was the biker proceeded to tell the judge damning evidence against himself. So the judge changed his mind and found the biker guilty, telling the man he owned a thousand dollar fine.

  Sitting in the courtroom, I learned one thing: to shut up once the judge declared for you. I now shut up in the sealed battlejumper corridor.

  “Take him to his cohort,” Claath told N7. “And Creed-beast, this is the last time I wish to see you. If N7 brings you here again, you will die. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  N7 forcibly turned me around and we marched away. As we approached the steel bulkhead, it rose, letting us pass.

  “Run,” the android said.

  I obeyed. In a few more hours, we were going to leave the system, with the Jelk fleet winding its way through various jump routes toward Sigma Draconis. We’d lost half the Earthers at Altair. What was this battle going to do?

  -20- />
  Everyone counted jumps. They were that bad. Each time I went through one something different happened. The first one, vomit burned as it jetted through my nostrils onto my upper lip. The cloth I used to wipe my face felt like sandpaper. The second time my right foot cramped and it took six tries to loosen my buckles enough so I could sit up and put weight on the foot. The jumps were all mind-bending, like acid trips putting splotches before my eyeballs. Jumps twisted my guts and played havoc with my mind. Instead of getting used to them, I was beginning to think they were like allergies, which got worse over time and exposure.

  The third one—

  I guess I don’t need to relate each ache, pain and embarrassment. Something weird, something painful and something different happened to us each jump. We compared notes, and we counted them: one, two, three, four, five…six, seven…

  Zero hour came after the eighth jump, with klaxons blaring. My head already pounded from jump after-effect syndrome. I tore off the buckles and staggered to my heat pad. This time around, the androids had put our bio-suit into our sleeping quarters. I hefted mine off the grill—as we called it—and thudded the blob onto the floor. In bare feet, I stepped onto the living armor. I was eager for its positive effects on me.

  I’d become accustomed enough to the process that I heard the little noises now, a faint slurping sound as the warm sludge oozed up my legs. The living armor was crazy, and we wore the same suit time after time. The individual bio-suit became used to the wearer and the wearer become used to it.

  Mine soothed the pounding in my head. It had to be doing it through chemicals. Did the suit reason out what to do or was it an automatic thing? If the living armor had a brain, I had no idea where it might be. No, this was a symbiotic creature, using my sweat to feed itself and doing things instinctively.

  The bio-suit climbed up my waist, to my chest and arms and stopped just under my chin. I shoved on my boots and carried my helmet. Like the last combat run, our master wouldn’t give us weapons until we were in our assault boats and in space. That was smart on his part, because this time I was ready to turn the laser on the Jelk and his androids, on the Saurians again if we had too.