by P. A. Piatt
“What happened?”
“Kilfoy, rewind to just before the flash and freeze.” Kilfoy did as Warrant Pell ordered. “Okay, now run it at half-speed.”
This time, Fortis noticed some movement in the jungle along the rim of the crater just before the flash.
“Someone shot down our drone.”
* * *
“They did what?” Beck slammed his hands on his desk, causing his image to jiggle on Nesbitt’s display.
“They shot down a drone that was buzzing Shaft Number Four. It had to be a Space Marine bird.”
“Why would they do that? Those idiots!” Beck slammed his desk again.
“Beck, why don’t you stop with the histrionics? They’ve never seen a drone before and thought it was a bug, so they engaged.”
“What are we supposed to tell the Space Marines? ‘Sorry, our troops were snooping around your base and shot down your drone. Our bad.’ Damn it, Nesbitt, this incident could create a lot of problems for us.”
Nesbitt shrugged. “I doubt it. That lieutenant didn’t seem like he was interested in much of anything after we told him they were late. The report we intercepted said they found Shaft Number Four, but there was nothing about exploring it. My guess is they’ll sit on their hands and wait for extraction.”
“They were doing a recon of Four.”
“So what? There’s nothing there, just a glassed-over crater and a derelict thumper.”
“You’d better be right, Nesbitt. Get your soldiers under control, understand? We can’t afford any more failures.”
Beck disconnected the comm link and rubbed his temples with his index fingers while he wished he was anywhere but Pada-Pada.
Ten years ago, the Precision Crafted Soldier Project had seemed like a promising way to leapfrog his way up the Galactic Resource Conglomerate executive ladder. Instead, it became an anchor around his neck as the project encountered one snag after another.
The goal of the project had been to create autonomous artificial humans who could operate without direct corporate supervision or government intrusion in the far-flung corners of space. When they finally achieved that goal, the savings would be incalculable. There was no requirement to shield artificial humans from radiation in space, so spacecraft and habitations could be lighter and cheaper. Artificials didn’t get paid, they didn’t unionize, and they didn’t file lawsuits, so the Conglomerate could use them in the worst conditions with little risk to the bottom line. The pressure for the project to succeed was considerable.
The problem wasn’t Beck’s managerial skills. He was an efficient administrator and maintained tight control over the project budget. The problem was the science.
GRC scientists had developed an artificial human that could grow from an infant to an adult in two years, with phenomenal strength, speed, and endurance. What they couldn’t do was instill their creations with mature thought processes. The early results had been fully developed super humans with the intellect of toddlers. Before Beck ordered the first test models to be destroyed, child development specialists were literally teaching them to keep their hands to themselves.
The research had advanced considerably since then. The newest generation of artificial humans had performed satisfactorily so far, but destroying the drone was evidence they still were not ready.
* * *
“What’s our next move?”
Fortis posed the question to the group assembled in the command mech: Warrant Officer Pell, Gunny Hawkins, Staff Sergeant Winaki, and Corporal Ystremski.
“Are we sure it was ground fire that brought down the drone?” Pell gestured to the screen. “We all watched the same video, and I’m not sure what I saw.”
Winaki raised his hand. “Let me take a patrol out to recover the drone. Then we’ll know what happened for sure.”
Ystremski nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Fortis looked at Hawkins. “What about you, Gunny?”
Hawkins stroked his chin before he answered. “I agree with Warrant Pell. From the video, it’s hard to tell for sure what happened. The best way to find out is to recover the drone, which means we send a patrol.” Winaki and Ystremski traded smiles, but Hawkins cut them off with a raised hand.
“If it was shot down, there’s only one other group here on Pada-Pada capable of doing that, and they have cameras watching this compound. We can’t just jock up and send a platoon stomping off into the jungle to get ambushed.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Four guys; Winaki and three other sneaky sons of bitches. Full auto-flage all the way. At the same time, send a patrol north to look for bug holes, just like we talked about last night. While they’re out, we have a couple guys use the flamethrowers to burn back the jungle on the eastern perimeter. Lots of flames, lots of smoke.”
Fortis nodded. “I like it.”
“The important thing is that it all appears routine.”
“Agreed.” Fortis looked around the group. “How soon can we start?”
* * *
An hour later, Fortis, Pell, and Hawkins were sitting in the command mech and watching the sensor belt light up as Corporal Ystremski led the patrol into the jungle at the northeast edge of the clearing. The corporal had drawn two fire teams from Third Platoon for the patrol and the nine-man patrol quickly faded from sight.
Fifteen minutes earlier, two flamethrower teams started burning back the jungle along the eastern perimeter. The green foliage created dense black smoke that wafted across the clearing. Gunny Hawkins instructed the teams to continue along the southern edge, and they had soon ringed the entire camp with smoldering undergrowth.
Amidst the noise and smoke, Winaki and his team slipped from their mech and picked their way through the southern mine belt. None of the sensors detected their passing, and the only sign they were on the way was a terse report from Winaki as they entered the tree line.
“No point sitting here, LT. We won’t hear anything from Ystremski or Winaki unless they find a clearing or send somebody up a tree.”
“You’re right, but sitting here is my excuse for not dealing with Lieutenant Baker and Private Watters.”
Doc Kramer had the dead Marines zipped up in hermetically sealed body bags and laid out in Mech Three. Fortis could have left them there until Atlas returned, but it would be unfair to the Marines assigned to sleep in Mech Three. He could have told them DINLI and left it at that, but the right answer was to bury the pair and recover them before extraction.
“Leave that to me, sir. Unless you think we should have some kind of ceremony.”
Fortis sighed. “Thanks, Gunny. I don’t think we need a ceremony until we get them back to Atlas. If we were leaving them here, it would be a different story.”
“Excuse me, LT, but there’s a message from the CO.” Sergeant Trenas, the Command operator on duty, pulled up the transmission queue on the display. “You want it sent to your terminal?”
“No, just open it up there.”
Trenas clicked on the message. It was a two-sentence response to Fortis’ daily report from the night before.
BE MORE CAREFUL. STAY OUT OF THE JUNGLE.
“That’s helpful,” observed Warrant Pell.
“Asshole,” muttered Trenas.
Fortis stifled a laugh.
* * * * *
Chapter Twelve
Fortis rejoined the Marines at the firing range in time to watch one of them unleash a barrage from an automatic grenade launcher. Round after round spiraled downrange and exploded in the trees beyond. Fortis accepted the weapon from Corporal Thorsen, the rangemaster, and had it braced against his shoulder when Trenas’ voice crackled in his ear.
“All stations, this is Command. Cease fire on the range, we have detected considerable movement along the perimeter in that sector.”
The Space Marines watched the tree line for movement, but there wasn’t even a breeze to stir the foliage.
“This is Command, the sensors still show he
avy activity along the perimeter.”
“This is Hawkins. Put a grenade forty meters into the jungle. Let’s see if we can stir things up.”
No one moved, and Fortis wondered if anyone else had heard the order. He realized the other Marines were staring at him.
“You’ve got the grenade launcher, sir.”
Fortis’ cheeks burned when he realized he’d been holding the grenade launcher since Command issued the ceasefire order. He held it out to Thorsen, who shook his head.
“Be my guest, LT. You’re qualified on that weapon, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.” Just not in front of an audience.
Abner’s hands were suddenly stiff and clumsy as he raised the grenade launcher to his shoulder and aimed high over the jungle at the far edge of the firing line.
“Round out,” he said through gritted teeth, then squeezed the trigger. The weapon recoil bumped his shoulder and he watched as the round spiraled downrange and disappeared beyond the trees. A second later, he heard a sharp crack and a small plume of smoke rose above the jungle.
“Nice shot.” Thorsen smiled and reached for the weapon. “Gotta reload, sir.”
“This is Command, get ready. Whatever you did, you woke ’em up.”
“Sir?”
Fortis looked at Thorsen, who was offering him the reloaded launcher.
“I’ll pass,” Fortis replied shaking his head. “I got lucky the first time. Give that thing to someone who can shoot it.”
“Here they come!”
A low, throbbing buzz rose from the trees and the undergrowth shook. Thousands of bugs exploded out of the jungle, and Fortis’ breath caught in his throat. The insects tumbled over each other in a rolling, skittering mass that engulfed everything in its path.
The Space Marines didn’t need an order to open fire. Rifles cracked and the grenade launcher thumped over and over as they tried to stem the tide of bugs. Grenades tore holes in the ranks of the bugs and well-aimed rifle fire dropped many more. Still, the bugs advanced.
Hawkins’ voice boomed in Fortis’ ear. “LT, fall back behind the fighting position, clear the way for the heavy weapons.”
Fortis looked over his shoulder and saw the fighting holes bristling with Marines who couldn’t fire for fear of hitting their own comrades. He thumped Thorsen on the shoulder.
“Fall back!” he ordered. “Take up positions behind the fighting holes.”
Thorsen stopped firing and moved among the other Marines, relaying Fortis’ order. One by one, the Marines stopped firing and made for the rear. As the gunfire slacked off, the bugs closed ranks and continued forward.
After the last Marine had fallen back, Fortis motioned to Thorsen.
“Let’s go!”
Thorsen turned and let out a blood-chilling scream. A bug had approached unnoticed and buried its stinger deep in Thorsen’s calf. The stricken Marine fell to the ground and began to convulse as the neurotoxin entered his bloodstream.
“Holy shit!” Fortis drew his kukri, ran over, and chopped at the insect stinger. The injured bug made a high-pitched shrieking noise, which Fortis cut short with another stroke of his knife.
Viscous, black goo oozed from the hole in Thorsen’s armor and his convulsions ceased.
“Get the hell out of there!”
Hawkins was shouting in his ear, and Abner looked up. The line of bugs was ten meters away. For a split second he almost turned and ran, but the urge vanished as quickly as it appeared. He grabbed Thorsen under the arms and dragged the injured Marine along with him, pursued by the inexorable tide of gaping pincers and dripping stingers.
Fortis pulled Thorsen as fast as he could, straining with all his might against the substantial Pada-Pada gravity. Thorsen convulsed and slipped from Abner’s grip and the young officer fell backward. When he sat up, he saw the bugs were almost on them.
“Get down!”
Fortis twisted around and saw two Space Marines with flamethrowers crouched on the ground behind him. He rolled over and heard a loud WHOOSH as he buried his face in the dirt and a sudden wave of heat poured over him. The burning bugs let out high-pitched screams as the gelatinous flamethrower fuel sprayed over them and their shells crackled and popped.
Rough hands grabbed Fortis and dragged him across the ground. He looked up and saw they had reached the first line of fighting positions. A few seconds later, the entire defensive line opened up on the swarm of bugs with a deafening roar.
Kramer leaned over and started pulling at Fortis’ helmet.
“I’m okay, Doc. I’m okay!” He pushed the corpsman’s hands away. “What about Thorsen?”
“Doc Weinberg’s treating him. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t get bit, I’m just a little toasted.”
Kramer laughed and hauled Fortis to his feet. “Where’s your rifle, sir?” He tugged at Fortis’ shoulder and the charred remains of the rifle sling came away in his hands.
Fortis looked around. “Fucked if I know. I had it until those guys tried to cook me.”
The firing slowed as the insect advance stalled. A group of Marines moved in and the flamethrowers doused the remaining bugs with liquid fire. The sky grew dark with oily smoke as Warrant Pell’s mech drivers revved up their machines and pushed the smoldering bodies back toward the perimeter.
All around the clearing, Marines whooped and high-fived each other. Abner felt a sense of euphoria at their victory, and he grinned. But his face froze and his smile faded when he saw Kramer and Weinberg zipping Thorsen into a body bag.
Gunny Hawkins sidled up to Fortis and thumped him on the shoulder. “You did good, sir.”
Fortis shook his head. “Not good enough.”
“C’mon, LT, you did everything you could. Thorsen got too much poison.” Hawkins motioned toward the command mech, and Fortis turned to follow him. “You’re lucky that damned bug didn’t get you, too.”
They ducked through the hatch into the cool darkness. On the main display, the sensor field was dark.
“How’s it looking, Trenas?”
“All quiet now, Gunny. It seems like that swarm was it, at least for now.”
Hawkins pointed to the screen. “There’s something wrong with our minefield, LT. None of them went off when that swarm came through.”
Fortis mentally kicked himself for not noticing. “You think they’re set too heavy?”
“I don’t know. As many bugs as there were, they should have set something off. When they get done scraping up the dead bugs I’ll have the sappers check the field.”
Trenas interrupted. “Hey, LT, while you were busy fighting the bugs, Corporal Ystremski reported in. He said he found something interesting. His patrol will return as soon as they finished data collection.”
“Did he mention what it was?”
Trenas shook her head. “No. He just said that he knew what Number Four was and that he’d explain when he got back.”
* * *
An hour later, Ystremski led his exhausted patrol through the minefield and back to camp. Private Yew hobbled along, supported by two other Marines.
“Not a bug,” he told Kramer. “He stepped in a hole.”
After he saw to the Marines in his patrol, Ystremski met Fortis and Hawkins outside the command mech.
“We figured out what Number Four is,” he reported. “It’s a mine shaft. We found Number Two about a half-klick north of here.”
The trio joined Pell and Trenas inside the command mech, and Ystremski handed Trenas a memory stick.
“Put this up on the main screen.”
A video recording taken from a helmet cam appeared on the screen. As the camera panned across a clearing in the jungle, Ystremski narrated:
“We went straight north, looking for bug holes, and we came across this mine shaft. That’s the entrance. It’s collapsed, but the ore car rails are still there. Here’s the tower, just like Number Four.” The view zoomed in on a fat doughnut shape aroun
d the base of the tower. “I don’t know what this thing is. I don’t remember if there was one around the tower at Number Four. Whatever it is, it’s heavy. I had six Marines heave on it and they couldn’t budge it.”
The camera swept across the shaft entrance and then plunged into the jungle beyond. “I climbed around to see if there was any ventilation or power generation equipment, but I couldn’t find anything. That’s when we heard all the shooting back this way.”
“A bug swarm showed up at the firing range, but we turned them back,” replied Hawkins. “We lost Thorsen.”
“Shit.” Ystremski shook his head. “I liked him.” He took a deep breath and let it out. Fortis could see that Thorsen’s death affected him. “Anyway, we formed up to continue the patrol when Yew stepped in a hole, except it wasn’t a hole at all.”
Fortis watched as gloved hands pulled Yew’s leg free and tore back the vegetation growing over the hole. It was perfectly round, and as they stripped away more of the undergrowth, a familiar shape emerged.
“That’s a mech!”
“We found three of them buried under a ton of jungle. Somebody parked them and walked away. There’s no visible battle damage and somebody stripped the insides. It almost looks like someone lives in this one.”
The camera entered the mechs and scanned the space. There was a bed against one bulkhead and a stack of bug carapaces in the corner. The hatch leading to the next compartment opened to reveal tree branches suspended from the ceiling. The view zoomed in, and Fortis saw bunches of plum-sized fruit nestled among the leaves.
“Somebody went to a lot of trouble to collect those,” said Pell. “Are they edible?”
Ystremski shrugged. “I don’t know, Warrant. I brought a couple back for Doc to look at; maybe he can tell you.”
“Where did those mechs come from?” asked Trenas.
“They have to belong to the mech det that deployed with Bravo Company,” replied Pell. “They’re the only mechs that have come to Pada-Pada until ours, as far as I know. Did you get any hull numbers?”
