A voice squawked something out of the soldier’s hand-held radio that only he seemed to understand.
“Captain, Headless is saying the recruit fell off the net and can’t get back on!”
“Give her the two-mike penalty and stop her time.”
“Fifteen minutes, twenty and seven seconds, sir!”
“log it, Hank. What’s her name?”
“Sueli Cassel, code-name Blusher.” Someone answered as she perused a clipboard.
There were a few chuckles to that.
“That’s why I like Mason at Station One. He can pick up a candidate’s traits in a heartbeat!” The Captain remarked.
He was a heavyset man in his forties, who sported a wide black goatee in contrast to his shaved skull. Taking a seat on one of the few wooden stools, he supported an elbow against the desk beside him and eyed Toni.
“And he’s got enough asshole charm to get rid of the feebles before they get on my nerves.”
The captain had a pleasant enough voice, but Toni felt his hackles raise. There was an odd expression on the man’s face as he read what was written on the recruit’s forehead.
“Sir? Ribbon’s calling from station two. Says his nightscope’s running out of juice.”
“That’s ‘cause our sergeant’s keeping the scope up even when no one’s there. Tell him to use the ears the Gods graced him with and only punch it when he hears someone coming.”
The morning began to stretch out as the rain came and went, horns and roars and occasional raucous laughter filling the forest. The camp, suspended among the high trees by nets and cables, swayed in the occasional breeze.
Most of the sergeants and officers present on Valhalla didn’t appear to need to be there, and were regarding the Click as a kind of social event, complete with an improvised buffet table Toni didn’t dare approach despite his growling stomach. The few soldiers actually at work were the captain, a female sergeant named Miriam Reeves, Corporal Baylen and the two soldiers manning the electronic equipment. The radio-man, an agitated youth not much older than Toni, would receive news from his various sources on the ground and relay them to the officer. The news focused as much to the spirit with which the recruits were attacking the course as to their actual performance, and he found himself wondering what they had said about him.
It was eleven o’clock when Toni finally found himself again in the company of a fellow recruit.
Her leap into the unknown was original. The recruit launched herself headfirst through the passageway at a steep descent, prompting the Hammerhead’s first miss of the day as she splattered into the churned mud below. Apparently unhurt, she jumped fitfully away from the Suit and, spotting the nano-net above her, pounced upwards like a cat and gained a hold of its end. In that moment a second figure jumped through the wall, colliding against the armored Suit’s spaulder and somehow managing to grip onto its exposed artificial muscles. As the first to arrive finally clawed her way up the net, the second spotted her and launched himself onto it, colliding with and almost sending the female recruit back down into the mud. The spectators’ cheers were drowned out by the armored Suit’s frustrated roars as both recruits embarked on their scrambling climb to Valhalla.
The first to arrive was the female recruit, covered in mud but sporting an insane grin on her face as she scrambled onto the tiles. The male recruit, however, was the proud owner of a newly acquired gash spanning much of his forehead, exposing the pale bone beneath. His crash-helmet was missing.
Valhalla Camp’s medical evacuation procedure proved to be terrifying in its essence. Once his laceration had been briefly disinfected and bandaged, the recruit was fitted with a parachute and cursorily flung over the side. The chute deployed by cable, and within seconds the casualty had touched down on the forest floor. Shortly afterwards, a second Hammerhead showed up, unceremoniously picked up the recruit, wrapped him in parachute silk and stomped away with the boy held in its arms like an infant.
Toni began to wonder how they were going to leave Valhalla. When he asked the radio-operator about it, however, the soldier laughed.
“We’re going down the way you came up, chum, unless you brought a chute for yourself!”
Toni accompanied Baylen as he directed the remaining recruit to the camp’s rear. Pulling the awning’s fringe back from the nano-net it was suspended on, the corporal improvised a rainwater shower for her to wash off the mud.
With chestnut hair but the oddest almond-shaped aquamarine eyes, the recruit seemed unable to remove the grin from her face, and indeed he was unsurprised to find “HAPPYFACE” written on her forehead. The corporal treated her like a princess, keeping her company as he sent Toni to fetch dry clothing from a crate at the camp’s opposite end. By the time he returned it was clear why Baylen had done so.
The corporal was no longer alone with the recruit, having been intruded upon by a very irritated Second Sergeant Reeves, who had apparently taken it upon her shoulders to protect Happyface’s innocence. Baylen was stiffly ordered to vacate the premises along with a bewildered Toni.
“Damn Sarge can read my mind ...” Baylen chuckled as they rejoined the finish line attendants.
Shortly before mid-day the last recruit washed-out in the river tunnel, no other having managed to find his way up to Valhalla.
“Captain, Spaz just cracked in the water-pipe. Nona had to drag his ass out. He froze, sir.”
“Strike his name from the log and close it. Baylen, get the boy into his provisionary uniform and out to the canteen. It’s time to fill some bellies.”
“Yes, captain.” Baylen answered, remaining where he stood.
They watched in silence as the camp slowly emptied, its former occupants launching themselves confidently onto the nano-net one at a time, cart-wheeling, rolling or slowly sliding down its extension in single file. If Toni hadn’t already seen a sledgehammer wielding armored Suit ambush flying recruits, he would have considered that the strangest thing he had ever seen.
“What’s your name, boy? Baylen asked as he stared at the descending group.
“Toni, sir.”
“Don’t sir me. What’s your last name?”
“Miura.”
“Ahuh. Never heard that name before. Where you from?”
“A farm on the outskirts of Leiben. My father works in livestock and forestry.”
“And your mother’s last name?”
“Martial. Why?” He asked.
“Don’t know any Martials here either. Been a soldier ‘bout fifteen years now. Maybe not the brightest, but I still got a good memory for names and families. Don’t know how the hell you managed to do the Click in your time, but you came in second best in forty six runners. The chick you finished ahead of is called Hannah Arakaki. Not a generation has gone by without at least one member of her family making officer rank. And the one who face-kissed the suit’s called Ian Templeton. You know the name?”
“Only the last one.”
“That’s the only one you need to know. The Army isn’t a popular institution any more but it’s still got a lot of power in the general scheme of things. There’s not a seat of power on Thaumantias that doesn’t have a Templeton or sympathizer-of sitting in it. If this kid makes it, he’ll be the third in MEWAC alone. And he finished the Click in a record time. Four minutes and seven seconds. Makes sense since they’re all transgen freaks. That family invests so much in gene therapy it’s hard to believe they still got more money than God. Arakaki, Tani, hell, most names with top results on the Click belong to families with their fingers and thumbs dipped in all that crap.”
“Not mine. My father doesn’t believe in it. He’s a natural. Only my mother’s got transgens on her side.”
“Rook, that’s my point. You got lucky today. When they do the medical, they’re gonna look for the genes they think will fit the Suits. And they’re not gonna forget what families support military funding, I guarantee it. You must have had some ideas about what you wanted to do here, but it’s bes
t you put the Suits out of your mind. Fifteen years ago, I finished well ahead of the curve in the Click here. Was a bit different then, but I still managed under nine mikes. You know what I do now?”
“No.”
“Foot infantry, Close Ground Support. I’m the one with nano-net camo in my pack and a Lacrau on my shoulder. If I’m lucky, I can hitch a ride on a Hammerhead so it will park me up a tree to set up an observation post or a defensive position, and that’s about as close as I’ll ever get to being in one. I’m saying this ‘cause I just don’t want you to go down to the canteen and mouth off about your time. Keep your eyes open, your trap shut, and hope for a miracle, ‘cause that’s about all you can do from now on. Got it?”
“Yes ...”
“And shut your mouth about your father being a natural. You won’t be getting any points for that either, understood?”
“Yes.” Toni answered quietly.
They stood silently for a while, watching as, far below, the radio-operator carefully dropped his equipment into a soldier’s waiting hands before jumping into the mud. A minute later they were truly alone.
Toni finally turned to the corporal.
“Baylen, I know what you said about asking questions, but could you answer me a couple?”
Baylen smiled and nodded. “Depends on what you ask, rook.”
“What was my time?”
“Eight minutes, seventeen seconds. Do you get it now?”
“Yeah, I got it. Another question. What the hell did Mason write on my forehead?”
Baylen snapped his head towards Toni and watched him carefully. Then his lips cracked into a grin and he began to laugh loudly enough to disturb the wildlife.
“Ah hell, you rooks crack me up! You mean you haven’t even guessed by now?”
“No. I just didn’t like the way the captain looked at me, that’s all.” Toni replied.
The grin dissipated from Baylen’s face.
“Rook, you gotta understand that some reputations can be hard to lose around here. Some guys fuck up on Day One and never get over it. And if First Sergeant MotherFucker Mason wrote Mister Tardy on your forehead, it’s ‘cause you broke one of the cardinal rules over here. You never, ever, make your betters wait for you.”
“Understood. If that’s the case, can we get going now?” Toni asked.
“That’s the spirit, rook.” Baylen said, giving Toni a heavy slap on his shoulder blade before he launched himself out onto the nano-net.
CHAPTER THREE
200 kilometers above Capicua, 14H35, 14th of January, 2771
Tommi “Kaiser” Von Beulwitz was beginning to feel the gees stacking up, the Tactical Entry Capsule rocking slightly as it encountered denser atmosphere. For the first time regretful at executing the entry dry, he began to flex his forearms and abdomen as his suit tightened like a python around his legs. The following minutes wouldn’t fare well if he blacked out. At the very least it would be an embarrassing event.
Kaiser wondered how Lippard was in that moment, and whether she was taking any pleasure in the suit’s tightening embrace.
No, no, stop thinking about her, he scolded himself. It was definitely no time for an erection. Getting wood just as his suit was constricting his crotch was a bad way to go.
As the blue-lettered Operating System before his eyes displayed a deceleration exceeding six gees, he began to feel very small indeed. One man inside a g-suit, which was inside a mobile Suit, which was inside the TEC, which was at that very moment penetrating the bloated atmosphere of a planet over three times as massive as Earth. All that remained was for God to show up and dropkick the planet.
The atmospheric entry had officially begun only three minutes before, the four TECs advancing in single file, distanced ten kilometers from one another as they streaked across the sky at just under eleven kilometers per second. That figure was history by now, the speed bleeding off so quickly Kaiser could feel his eyeballs trying to push their way further back into their sockets. The digital deceleration indicator was no longer blue but grey, although he knew nothing was wrong with his instruments; he was momentarily colorblind, in the graying-out stage before complete loss of consciousness. He also knew that he was only a powerless passenger; The TEC’s onboard computer was the current pilot for the flight, and it would be taking care of the entire voyage down to the planetary surface, landing included. But most of all, he knew what would be expected of him from that moment onwards.
And wouldn’t it be rather awkward if his subordinates were met with snores instead of leadership? Lippard would certainly tease him mercilessly afterwards, although that idea he didn’t quite mind. He clenched his fists painfully, breathing in low grunts as the moment of greatest deceleration came and passed.
The seconds slowly bled away. Already reverting to its sky-blue coloring, the deceleration indicator finally dropped below three gees. Kaiser mentally ordered the OS to indicate airspeed instead. It was time to get to work.
Visible Light Orbital Images had shown the landing site to be almost entirely forested, with the exception of several clearings, each about thirty meters in diameter and set within a region four kilometers across. There had been no positive identification of artificial structures like those found twelve hundred kilometers to its north-east, but near-infrared imaging had pointed to something else; the area comprising twenty by fifty kilometers was noticeably darker than its surroundings in the false-color images, and was roughly rectangular in shape. The clearings were all within that rectangle, and four would shortly be targets of visitation.
Kaiser felt the TEC wobble slightly and veer towards the side. The capsule had found its target and was presently homing in on it. At least, that was what a flash message from its CPU was telling him via its link with the mobile Suit’s counterpart. Still entirely blind except for his OS indicators, unable to establish comms with his subordinates and unqualified to pilot his entry vehicle, he ordered his Suit’s OS to offer him instead a countdown to landing, feeling momentarily impotent as he watched the clock count backwards from four minutes and eight seconds.
As the seconds passed slowly by, Kaiser took the time to personally reconsider his orders. They had seemed quite simple when studied from orbit, or at least as far as the commander giving them was concerned, he thought. But when one is hurtling downwards towards the unknown, plan B suddenly becomes just as important as plan A. And plan B, in that instance, wasn’t altogether too encouraging. He considered his options. The very thought of them left him decided to do his usual. Carve out a plan C.
The warning beep signaling the sixty second mark returned him to reality. He paused for a moment as he collected his thoughts, and then set about checklisting his status. Given another silent order, his OS responded immediately, supplying him with a virtual stereoscopic HUD upon which were displayed several small rectangular panels. Providing the adequate neural impulse every time he locked his eyes on a panel, thus selecting and displacing it closer towards him, he checked his operational status, quickly arming his weapons and synchronizing the reactor’s ramp-up with the moment of touchdown. Aside from the chirpy sounds playing into his ears every time a panel was opened, checked or closed, he was pleased to hear the thrum surrounding him become somewhat louder and higher in pitch in response to his adjustments.
As the countdown continued past the thirty second mark with another loud beep, Kaiser left a final panel open before him, willing himself not to activate it before touchdown. The panel lay in the foreground, almost blotting out the digital countdown and other backdrop indicators, and its coloring was presently azure. In a few moments, the panel’s activation would turn it green in color, and then the panel would automatically drop back into the semi-transparent miniature of the initial HUD display below and to his right, where his right pauldron was usually visible beyond. If there was a failure of some kind, it would either drop away red, which would be a bad sign, or maintain its current position, flashing crimson with a corresponding verbal warning, which
would be far worse.
A clear, serene female voice spoke out clearly, giving a verbal countdown towards landing as if she were calmly reading the numbers from a scroll. For the second time since having begun atmospheric entry, Kaiser felt his spine tingle in anticipation. His entire body began to key up until, just as the count hit the five second mark, he heard a muffled thump, and then he felt his back suddenly press against the Suit’s interior exoskeleton as the g-suit within began to tighten around him once more. The deceleration was much more intense than before and, as he heard the last three seconds being announced, his magnified hearing caught the unmistakable roar of retrorockets firing.
And then the pressure ceased entirely, immediately compensated for by the sudden relaxation of his g-suit. Kaiser hadn’t even felt the bump of the landing, so smooth had it been, and yet, just as his OS had been programmed to do, he suddenly gained stereoscopic vision, with display overlays duly set at differing depths of perception, figuring dominantly since the mobile Suit’s oculars were still in complete darkness. Kaiser eyed the dominant panel and activated it. The panel blinked, glowing suddenly red, and trailed away towards the miniature HUD, momentarily leaving a crimson streak in his field of vision.
“Scheisse!” He muttered.
A brief flash of blinding light accompanied several loud popping sounds, the sudden light being immediately compensated for by the OS before his eyes had even managed to adjust. The TEC’s four petals had released, deploying promptly outwards and freeing his mobile Suit’s extremities. The solitary red panel still present in the Op Status HUD blipped once more, turning a verdant green color. Kaiser sighed inwardly in relief; apparently in his zeal he had jumped the gun, activating Suit mobility too early.
He lay there for a moment, a feeling of unreality gradually stealing over him as he contemplated his surroundings. The sky was the same blue as the unchecked panels, effectively obscuring them from his sight. The system automatically compensated for that, offering Kaiser the option to change to an appropriate setting. Duly altered, the unchecked panels glowed a bright purple for as long as the backdrop was blue.
Descent into Mayhem (Capicua Chronicles Book 1) Page 5
