Vorpal Blade

by John Ringo

  One by one the groups had been picked up as the Vorpal Blade scoured the area of surfaced Demons. Weaver, Miller and Miss Moon had been plucked out of a running gunfight; Dr. Robertson had been pulled off the roof of a building. The ship had then lifted to hover at ten thousand feet while the meeting took place. The agenda was obvious. Everybody living was aboard and it was time to leave.

  "Sir," the XO said uncomfortably. "I agree that we need to leave. However, we've got major damage throughout the ship. We're not exactly air-worthy at the moment."

  "Then the Marines go in their bunks and we run like hell," the CO said.

  "Very well, sir," the XO replied, nodding. "It's only about eighteen hours to Earth. But we're definitely not seaworthy. We're going to have to land out at Dreamland."

  "Sir, if you'll give me a moment," Dr. Robertson said.

  "Doctor, I appreciate your input—"

  "This may be important," the biologist said. "Runner?"

  "Sir, I think everyone has noticed this hill," he said, keying up a map of the local area.

  "Yes, Master Sergeant," Spectre said, holding onto his patience.

  "I believe it is the source of the Demons," the master sergeant said. "At least locally."

  "Say again," the CO said.

  "We were picking up odd seismic activity, sir," Runner said, walking to the computer screen. "It was coming from the direction of this hill. The hill looks like a basolith, a granitic extrusion. But it has no secondary indicators of being one. There should be more granite around and there's not. Then we were getting those seismic readings, moving towards us and the city. I couldn't figure out what they were. Dr. Beach did, just before he died."

  "Tunneling," Weaver said.

  "Yes, sir," Runner said, shaking his head. "It sounded sort of like mining, but not exactly, so I didn't pick it up. But it was these things heading for us and the city."

  "They started coming out because of the electrical experiments the Cheerick scientists were conducting," Miss Moon said. "When we got here it just moved up the date of the first attack."

  "Why are they attacking electricity?" the XO said. "And why not one of those boards?"

  "Unknown, sir," Weaver said, leaning forward and looking at the screen. "Captain, we're beat up and need repairs. If we can stop these things, at the source, we can get those repairs, here, and save these people."

  "Commander Weaver, we've got, what? Ten marines left?" the CO said, exasperated. "And you want to send a forlorn hope?"

  "No, sir, I want to lead a forlorn hope," Weaver said. "I want to know what is under that mountain. And I want to have a culture to come back to. The boards take the weight of armor. We can drop from right here and take out that facility. Enter one of the tunnels, put an ardune warhead in it and that's all she wrote."

  "You want a special weapon," the CO said wonderingly.

  "I was thinking one of the torps, sir," Bill said. "Actually, I was thinking two; one for backup. There's a way to adjust them to be selective yield. We can do this, sir. Now that we know the source of the Demons."

  "Captain, Tactical. We've got some boards coming up from the ground."

  "I don't know why we're even talking about this," the CO said.

  "We've got eighteen Marines shooters, sir," MacDonald said, turning back from a quiet conversation with the first sergeant. "We are, of course, at your disposal."

  "You want to do this, Mac?" the CO asked in disbelief.

  "Payback, sir," MacDonald said, stone-faced. "I left a bunch of good boys down there. Lost more up here while I was running for my life. Hell yes I want to take them out, sir."

  "Nuke it from orbit," the XO said. "Only way to be sure."

  "Granite's tough stuff, sir," Runner said. "It would take a full-yield ardune system to be sure of cracking it. Probably why it's made of granite. Take it out and you're pretty much going to take out the city."

  "And if we pop one inside?" the CO asked.

  "The granite's going to absorb most of it," Bill said. "Trust me on this, I've done nuclear design. Granite that big, less than fifty kilotons? It's going to shatter it and maybe toss some around. Not much. And ardune's pretty clean stuff. Not even much fall-out."

  "Captain, sorry, Tactical again," Lieutenant Souza said, nervously. "It's Lady Che-chee, the queen and some of her guards. They're getting pretty close."

  "Tell the COB to get a party up on the sail hatch," the CO said. "I'll receive her there."

  "Okay, okay," he continued, looking at the group. "If you really want to do this, Mac, you can do this. But you need to leave soon. Get every clerk and jerk in armor. We don't have enough boards, though."

  "Some arriving, sir," Bill said. "And I suspect they're going to be willing to loan us some . . ."

  "This is a bold plan, Captain Blankemeier," the queen said.

  Most of her party was clearly overwhelmed by the ship. But the queen along with Lady Che-chee and General Chuk-tuk just as clearly refused to appear surprised. The queen had allowed the captain to escort her to the wardroom, disdained the apologies for the conditions and then listened, carefully, to the translation of the plan. Actually, it couldn't really be called a plan. The synopsis. The outline. The guess.

  "Can you not leave?" the queen asked.

  "Our ship has sustained damage," Spectre admitted. "We could run home, possibly, but we'd rather repair damage first and . . ."

  "And . . . ?" Miriam asked.

  "Just translate it as closely as possible," the CO said.

  "And you don't care to run away with your tail down," the queen said, her nose pulling back.

  "That too," the CO admitted.

  "Why do you tell me?" the queen asked.

  "First of all, the weapon we are going to use is going to do damage beyond the mountain," the CO said. "We could strike the mountain from space and remove the threat entirely and with no danger. But that would destroy your capital as well."

  "You have weapons that powerful?" General Chuk-tuk asked. "And yet you fight on the ground."

  "Different needs, sir," Commander Weaver said.

  "Yes, we do," the CO said. "But by putting it in the mountain, it will do less damage. Less, not none."

  "I see," the queen said, nodding. "The Demons will wipe us out entirely. Do it."

  "Yes, ma'am," the CO said. "We also need three or four more boards. We're going to drop all our remaining Marines from up here."

  "You have them," the queen said. "I will lead this force."

  "No you will not," General Chuk-tuk said. "You will remain safe on this ship. I am your war-leader. I can be lost. You cannot. Your Daughter is still a Breeder—"

  "I am your queen—"

  "Ma'am," Weaver cut in. "The general's right, you're not. Don't go gettin' your fur in a fluff. And, General, with all due respect, I think you should send Lady Che-chee. She's younger, fitter and less important than you while still being of high enough station that you have participation."

  "Are you sure you want me to translate that?" Miriam said.

  "What did he say?" the queen squeaked imperiously.

  "You won't like it," Miriam said, then translated.

  The queen flicked her ears indignantly as General Chuk-tuk smoothed her whiskers in satisfaction, then squeaked in laughter when the general's nose went back in a snarl.

  "Yes," the queen said, still squeaking in laughter. "The commander has it. Lady Che-chee, do you accept this quest?"

  "With delight, Your Majesty," the Lady said. "But we must make haste. The Demons seem to have retreated for now, but they will be back."

  "Agreed," the CO said. "My Marines are suiting up now. Commander Weaver, defer most tactical decisions to Captain MacDonald. I hope we all agree that the ground commander is Commander Weaver?"

  "Agreed," Lady Che-chee said. "Your Majesty, could I take a contingent of guards?"

  "Ten," General Chuk-tuk said. "No more."

  "Problem," Miriam said. "I can't be in two places at once. None of the C
heerick, that I'm aware of, speak English. Someone is going to have to translate on the boat and someone is going to have to translate on the ground."

  "We try Ekish," the queen squeaked. "Ko fit."

  "Miss Moon is not a fighter," Commander Weaver pointed out.

  "Is fit," the queen squeaked. "Ko."

  "Miss Moon?" the CO asked.

  "I think I have to go with the ground force," Miriam said, standing up. "I'll meet you in ten minutes in the Wyvern bay."

  "I think she's going to go panic," Miller said as she left the room.

  "I think I'm going to panic," Weaver said.

  33

  We Got Bandits!

  "Keep the links straight!" Berg said. "If there's a kink, the gun will jam."

  "Got it," Sub Dude said, straightening out the chain of rounds. "Have fun."

  "This is not my definition of fun," Berg said, resetting his gun controls. On the last test they had been running about a degree off parallax. Most of this was probably going to be short-ranged, but . . .

  "Holy maulk," Hatt said quietly.

  "What?" Berg said, looking around. His eyes went wide, though, at the sight.

  It was hard to describe, even to himself, but Miss Moon had changed. Something in the walk, the face. Subtle but impossible to miss. She strode across the compartment, ignoring the looks and the sudden cessation of movement and walked up to Berg.

  "Two-Gun," she said, looking up at the towering PFC. "My Wyvern needs a gun. And I need someone to carry it."

  "Yes, ma'am," Berg said, popping to attention. All the "mission specialists" rated officer rank, but nobody really treated them that way. Until now. "I'll be right back."

  When he got back, Marines were falling all over themselves to ready the linguist's Wyvern. Two were loading ammo, another was checking the traversing mechanism, a fourth was doing a check of the circuitry. Miriam was standing watching the activity with her hands behind her back.

  Berg mounted the Gatling, nodded at her, then returned to his own system.

  He hadn't noticed Lurch follow him back from the armory but as he started to enter his Wyvern, the armorer walked up with two pistols in his hands.

  "You forgot your real guns, Two-Gun," Lurch said, holding them out.

  "Gatlings have done it so far, Lyle," Berg said.

  "Take the guns, Two-Gun," Top said, walking up. "I'll mount them."

  "If you say so, First Sergeant," Berg said, getting out. "I'll mount them. Lyle, I need my reloads."

  "We've done some dumbass things in our time, buddy," Miller said, settling his Gatling in position. "But this about takes the cake."

  "I dunno," Weaver said. "I sort of thought almost blowing Earth off the map was worse than this."

  "I said dumbass," Miller replied, checking the traverse mechanism and running the feed into place.

  "It's not that bad," Weaver said. "They're not attacking right now. The tunnel could be clear. Besides, Runner found an entrance not far from the mountain. Couple of hundred meters and we're in."

  "These things tunnel like there's no tomorrow," Miller pointed out. "Which means they're going to be coming out of the walls."

  "You're such a pessimist," Bill said, grinning and pulling himself into his Wyvern. "What, you want to live forever?"

  "Absolutely," Miller said, lifting himself into place. "Got a problem with that?"

  "No," Weaver admitted. "But I also know how much you love derring-do."

  "God," Miller muttered as he closed his suit. "I could be doing flower arrangements right now."

  "Surf's up, people!" Top yelled, standing at the edge of the open air lock.

  The elevator could be moved up and out of the way and it had been. The Marines were about to drop through the resultant hole.

  "I cannot grapping believe we're doing this," Hatt said.

  "What?" Berg asked. "Preparing to assault a mountain full of monsters that just wiped out half our company? Or getting ready to drop from nearly orbit on golden antigravity surfboards?"

  "Yes!"

  "Marines, this is the CO. Get this one done and we're home free. Two days and we're back in the World. Good luck and Semper Fi."

  "Oorah!" the first sergeant shouted. "On the Bounce, Marines!"

  His board lifted up and he dropped into the rushing wind.

  "Go!" Captain MacDonald shouted. "Go! Go!"

  "What the hell is 'On the Bounce'?" Hatt asked.

  "Oh. My. God," Berg answered, grinning inside his suit.

  "Top read that book, too?" Jaen said. "Cool."

  "What book?" Hatt snapped. "What the hell?"

  "Just shut up and drop, Marine," Jaen said. "On the Bounce!"

  "What the hell is that?" the tactical tech asked.

  "What you got?" the tactical NCOIC said.

  "Neutrinos," the tech answered. "Lots of them. From the southeast about two hundred klicks. Wait . . ."

  "Boards," the NCOIC said, easily. "I've got the contact on radar."

  "But those are big signatures," the tech pointed out. "And the neutrino count is way higher than that many boards."

  "Going visual," the NCOIC said, punching controls for one of the tactical scopes. "And . . . zooming."

  "What?" the tech said, looking over at the NCOIC who was frozen at the scope.

  "Conn! Tactical! We got bandits at ten o'clock!"

  "Ooo-RAH!" Berg shouted, the nose of the golden surfboard pointed at the ground.

  The surface must have generated some sort of sticky field. He'd started out fighting the thing but as the first sergeant nosed over and hammered it towards the ground, he had to follow.

  He wasn't sure if the thing was reading subtle clues from the armor or if it was actually reading his mind. But it was one hell of a ride. He could see the hole below, like a dark eye in the middle of a plowed field. He also noted that it was blazing with apparently random particles. Those Demon things might be biological but they had some sort of high tech basis.

  "Next time," Hatt said, passing him and giving him a thumbs up, "we drop from orbit!"

  "Oorah!" Berg shouted, again, speeding up to catch up to the cannoneer. "Last one to the LZ buys the first beer when we get back!"

  "You're on, Rookie!"

  "What in the hell are those?" the CO said, looking at the scope. "Are those . . . dragonflies?"

  The species had a superficial resemblance. They had long, vaguely torpedo shaped bodies, four long wings and compound eyes. They were also brightly colored, mostly blue with flashes of red, especially on the eyes.

  "I don't know, sir," the XO admitted. "But everything around here but the Cheerick has been pretty unfriendly."

  "The hell with this," the CO said. "Tactical. Lase them."

  "Laser locked," the weapons operator said.

  "Fire," Souza replied.

  The front rank of the oncoming hoard of dragonflies blazed bright orange at the laser fire but kept coming.

  "Did I just see what I think I saw?" he said.

  "Was that some sort of shield?" the XO replied.

  "Pilot, back us up into space," the CO said. "XO—"

  "ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS! GENERAL QUARTERS! PREPARE FOR DEPRESSURIZATION! MAN GENERAL QUARTERS STATIONS!"

  As he said that the group blazed red and beams of energy began slamming into the ship.

  "Pilot!" the CO yelled.

  "Heading for orbit now, sir!" the pilot said.

  "She backs up as fast as she goes forward," the CO said. "Keep the lasers on target! Tactical, as soon as we're out of atmosphere, hit those things with an ardune torp!"

  * * *

  "Marines," MacDonald said. "The ship is under attack. Hopefully, we can stop that by taking out this mountain. The importance of what we're doing just went up."

  "Maulk," Berg said. The ground was coming up, fast, so he flared out, taking the gees with his knees, and settled next to the large hole.

  It had probably been made by one of the beetles, but if so the beast was nowhere in sigh
t.

  "Okay, Marines," Captain MacDonald said. "By the numbers. Two-Charlie . . ."