“Bravo Four, you still with me?” Hassinger called as the second volley triggered another wave of destruction. One of the rockets struck an ammunition trailer, sending a mushroom cloud skyward accompanied by smaller explosions.
“Por supuesto!” Hernandez replied. “I’m out of Christmas presents, so I say we head back to the LZ.”
“Sounds like a plan. Last one there buys the beer.”
* * *
Unbridled Rage Assault Force
The Humans fell back, using the buildings for cover to lure Klet’usron’s shock troops into another crossfire. Did the Humans think they were fighting Oogar? Klet’usron sent fifty troops into the light industrial building to the right with instructions to blast their way through the wall adjacent to the Humans. He would devote enough firepower to hold the left flank and catch the Humans on the right in a pincer.
“We’ll reach the position adjacent to the Humans in two minutes,” the leader of the breaching team reported.
“Execute without waiting for my order,” Klet’usron instructed. Between the shaped charges turning the wall into duracrete shrapnel and 50 Jivool shock troops, the Human flank would buckle.
Several explosions boomed in the direction of the siege forces. Another thunderous detonation rattled the windows of all the buildings. A mushroom cloud accompanied by continuing smaller blasts rose a few kilometers away. It wasn’t nuclear, but something large exploded.
Klet’usron tried to shake the noise out of his ears—half buzz and half whine, similar to a swarm of heavy electric motors. Klet’usron spun around. A dozen more armored fighting vehicles roared along the street toward his forces massed in front of the intersection. The rumblers opened fire.
* * *
Ursus Company
The HecSha yielded ground a bloody meter at a time. Captain Jonasson guessed they had another two hundred meters to reach the command center. If the Berserkers captured or killed the HecSha commander, they could end the battle. An enemy laser grazed his left shoulder. Jonasson stripped off the smoldering pauldron from his infantry armor. Burning pain accompanied the stench of cooked pork. If not for the armor, he’d have lost his arm.
“Captain, get down!” the squad medic called, brandishing a trauma nanite applicator.
“We’ve got to keep moving.” Jonasson spotted the lizard who’d shot him and returned the favor. The HecSha disappeared in a spray of bullets. “Hit me with the bots.”
Jonasson flinched at the first detonation, fearing the enemy had finally turned their artillery on the Berserkers. A second and third blast followed, two kilometers distant. KABOOM! A pillar of fire gouted into the sky, morphing into a mushroom cloud as the blast sucked smoke upward. Rockets streaked into the air and detonated, reminding Jonasson of First Contact Day fireworks.
“Don’t stand around gawking!” Jonasson shouted over the company comm channel. “Those fireworks were the lizards’ big guns. Forward!”
* * *
Kodiak Delta Three
Charlotte Wicza picked herself up off the pavement. The heat of the blast felt like a blazing campfire even at this distance. Dust and debris rained down. Lucky for the squad, they’d sheltered next to a stout building before the explosion.
Charlotte scanned for enemies. She didn’t spot any HecSha, but a hover tank slammed into an abandoned storefront a block away. Charlotte gestured for the sergeant’s attention and pointed to the tank.
Sergeant Taylor crept to the wreckage of a civilian vehicle and peered over the hood. Charlotte followed and watched the tank attempt to extricate itself. A second tank glided into the intersection and crashed into the first tank.
“Those aren’t headed for the fight,” Sergeant Taylor remarked, checking her tactical slate. “They might be going to fortify the command center.”
“Sergeant, you’re not thinking about taking on those tanks, are you?” Charlotte asked. They’d used their explosives taking out the targeting array. Even their armor-piercing gyrocs would bounce off the tanks.
HecSha climbed out of both armored hovercraft to yell and hiss at each other.
“We don’t need to take out the tanks,” the sergeant said. “We just need to take out the crews.”
* * *
Bruin Actual
Were the damned bears waiting for an invitation? Bjorn scanned the local map in his pinview. Could they circle the factory obscuring his team? He ordered the rear-most CASPers to cover their six. This Jivool commander was smarter than the average bear. He’d try something clever.
Bjorn’s gaze fell on the building next to the CASPers. “Move away from the wall! Get across the street!”
Thoom! Thoom! KABOOM! The distant explosions shook the ground, and the last one sent a mushroom cloud rising into the sky. Before the tremors faded, three detonations sprayed chunks of reinforced duracrete from the factory wall, leaving huge holes. Had the CASPers remained against the wall, they would have taken the brunt of the blasts.
Bjorn grinned as he grabbed a K-bomb. “Surprise, sukin syn!” His techs had modified his Mk 7 CASPer to complement his cybernetic left arm. Bjorn pitched the 2-kilogram K-bomb at the speed of a fastball into a Jivool’s face, striking with the force of a 12-gauge slug. The bear staggered backward into his fellows, and the K-bomb detonated.
Other Berserkers fired rockets and tossed grenades into the breeches. The Jivool surged into the intersection, splitting to engage both forces. Instead of finding the Berserkers on Bjorn’s side rocked by the surprise attack from the factory, the Jivool rounded the corner to face a ready foe. Heavy weapons fire erupted from the direction of the landing zone as additional Casanovas joined the fight.
The Jivool pressed into the CASPers to keep the armored fighting vehicles from picking them off. Bjorn grabbed the enormous CASPer-scaled battle-axe from its mount and cleaved into the closest Jivool. Another Jivool grabbed for the axe on the backswing, so Bjorn pumped a pulse from his arm-mounted laser into the bear. He kicked the ursine alien away and fired again. Another bear took the fallen alien’s place.
Icons winked out, but the Jivool dropped faster. Bjorn scanned the swirling melee for the enemy commander. There!
‘Bettie, mark current target QB and maintain lock.’
‘BTI: designating target QB.’
* * *
Siege Command Camp
“Where are my tanks?” Vosst hissed. He’d already dispatched a courier to the shuttle to order the crew to prepare for evacuation.
“The battle may have cut them off, or damage from the blast may have obstructed their path,” the technician replied. “The enemy is only 50 meters away!”
The tanks could carve a swath through the Human infantry, but they had to get here first. A squad of HecSha fled past the command tent. Shouting Human voices carried over the din of battle. Vosst peeked through the shredded ballistic cloth of the tent flaps. A light personnel transport was parked 10 meters away. It wouldn’t provide the protection of a tank, but it would get him to the shuttle.
Vosst dashed across the street. Gunfire erupted around the corner, and something buzzed over his head. Reaching the vehicle, he wrenched the door open. A laser pulse incandesced against the door, burning off two of Vosst’s fingers. A bullet punched through his ankle, sending him sprawling to the pavement.
Vosst rolled onto his back and stared down the barrels of weapons. Vosst raised his hands, or what was left of them. A grizzled, grey-haired Human held up his hand and barked an order. It took a moment for Vosst’s translator to sync to the Human’s language.
“Hold your fire,” the Human in charge commanded. “Looks like we found the top lizard.”
* * *
Bruin Actual
The battle devolved into a swirling, chaotic melee. The Jivool swarmed among the CASPers on both flanks. CASPer troopers flipped out molybdenum-carbide arm blades and slashed at anything with fur. Jivool ganged up to tackle CASPers and overbear them, then used their heavy guns at point-blank on the prone armored suit
s.
Bjorn switched his battle-axe back to his left hand and carved a path through the snarling mob. Thirty-five CASPer icons showed black, and twice as many glowed yellow or red. The Jivool at the rear of the pack fired rockets at the approaching Casanovas. One armored rumbler swerved into a building and burst into flame. Two other CASVs ground to a halt, blocking half the street and creating a traffic jam.
A Jivool seized Bjorn’s laser shield and wrenched it away. Bjorn punched the bear with his freed right fist and split open the alien’s chest with his axe. Bjorn kicked the furry corpse to wrench his axe loose. His Tri-V display highlighted the “QB” fifteen meters away. A pair of Jivool charged, intent on tackling him. Bjorn was familiar with blitzes and spun away from the right bear. The left one grabbed Bjorn’s augmented arm. Bjorn dropped his axe, taking half the Jivool’s foot off as the blade struck the concrete. Bjorn caught the Jivool’s arm in a bone-crushing grip and bodily slammed the huge ursine into its partner. The impact sent both bears sprawling.
Bjorn snatched his axe off the street. Ten meters. Bjorn’s teeth rattled as a heavy slug spalled his canopy armor and another damaged a hip actuator. Five meters. The Jivool commander spotted Bjorn and brought a heavy magnetic accelerator cannon around. Bjorn slapped the gun aside with his axe as the Jivool fired. The armor-piercing penetrator grazed the left side of Bjorn’s CASPer, prompting more warning indicators.
Bjorn spun his axe into an overhead arc and whipped the heavy weapon down. The blade cleaved off the Jivool’s right arm below the elbow. The appendage and the MAC crashed to the pavement. The alien commander stumbled backward, clutching the stump. Bjorn raised the axe in a reverse stroke, catching a lunging Jivool under the jaw.
“Ursus One to Bruin Actual. We have the HecSha commander.” Static hissed and popped from the jamming despite the relays the Berserkers used. “The lizards have thrown in the towel.”
Bjorn activated his external speakers. “I’ll give you one chance. Your soldiers fought well, but you cannot win the day. The HecSha commanding officer has capitulated. Stand down and live to fight another contract.”
The Jivool glared at Bjorn from the pavement. Bjorn had carefully avoided the word “surrender.” “I accept.” The Jivool gave a high, mournful roar. Other Jivool echoed the cry. The clamor of battle dwindled.
“Give the Jivool a chance to break off,” Bjorn ordered. “Polar Company, open a lane back to their LZ. As soon as the Jivool back off, tend to the wounded.” Bjorn’s eyes landed on the bear’s severed arm, prompting him to flex his cybernetic hand.
* * *
EMS Nanook, Moloq Orbit
“Come,” Bjorn called in response to the heavy thud on his office door.
Captain Jonasson squeezed through the hatch. The last two days had aged the man five years. “Commander. Do you have a minute?”
Bjorn set down his slate. He welcomed the break from composing the condolence messages to the families of Berserkers fallen in battle. He’d finished a fifth of the 125 missives. “I suppose you’re here to remind me that you warned me.”
The older man studied Bjorn a moment before answering. “No, I don’t need to tell you. You kept taking these high-risk contracts, so it was bound to catch up to us. Even when you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, you can get bit. Was it worth it?”
“Depends on who you ask. The CEO of the firm would tell you we made out like bandits once we forced the Eosogi to honor the contract in full. The leader of 125 men and women who won’t see home would tell you we paid for the black ink with red blood.
“My father warned me against this day,” Bjorn continued. “‘You’re going to lose people every contract,’ he said. ‘Don’t let it crush you, but don’t become callous.’ I didn’t realize how hard it would be until this contract.”
Jonasson took a deep breath. “Once we get back to Earth, I want to muster out. I know I still have four months left on my contract, but I’m willing to pay—”
“Granted. I’m not going to invoke the early discharge clause in your contract,” Bjorn interjected. “You’ve been a pain in my ass, but you’ve earned every credit, especially on Moloq.”
“Thanks. You’re doing your father proud.”
Bjorn nodded. “I hope so.”
“What are you going to do next?” Jonasson asked.
“Take a garrison contract somewhere so we can lick our wounds and rebuild our ranks. We lost a quarter of our manpower, and a third of our CASPers got destroyed or heavily damaged,” Bjorn replied. “Hopefully somewhere with a decent bar. I have a lot to think about.”
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Jonasson said. “Thanks, Commander Tovesson.”
Bjorn picked up the slate after Jonasson departed. Condolence message number 26. He definitely needed to find a bar.
* * * * *
Jon R. Osborne Bio
Jon R. Osborne is a veteran gamemaster and journalism major turned science fiction and fantasy author. The second book in the Jon’s The Milesian Accords modern fantasy trilogy, “A Tempered Warrior”, was a 2018 Dragon Awards finalist for Best Fantasy Novel. Jon is also a core author in the military science fiction Four Horseman Universe, where he was first published in 2017.
Jon resides in Indianapolis, where he plays role-playing games, writes science fiction and fantasy, and lives the nerd life. You can find out more at jonrosborne.com and at https://www.facebook.com/jonrosborne.
* * * * *
No Good Deed by Alex Rath
Intergalactic Haulers Transport Stone Mountain, Azure Orbit
The journey to Azure had been smooth. Sloan had his doubts, given the state of the galaxy, but it seemed like the Peacemakers had put a stop to the worst of it. He was glad to be away from Earth, though. The tension that still existed after the Peacemaker-enforced cease-fire between the Mercenary Guild and Earth took effect was thick. Even on Earth, things were unsettled, and some people were still choosing sides.
“Shuttle docked, and we’re closed up, Captain,” Sergeant Janis Dean reported from the bay of the Stone Mountain.
“Thanks, Janis,” Sloan responded from his command chair on the bridge. “Lock everything down. I guess we’ll just be waiting a few days.”
“Maybe not, sir,” Lieutenant Omar Mitchell suggested from his communications station.
Sloan raised an eyebrow and looked at Mitchell. “You know something I don’t?”
“Something you should see, sir. Sending it to your screen now.”
Sloan looked down at the small screen deployed in front of him and read the message. “The code check out?” he asked.
“It’s an older code, but it’s still good, sir.”
Commander Roger Wilson, Sloan’s XO, stepped over and read over his shoulder. “What do you think, sir?”
“I don’t think we can ignore it. It doesn’t feel right, but…”
“What about Sergeant Baker? She’ll be done before we even make it there.”
Sloan considered. The reason they were here was Sergeant Carrie Baker of the Golden Horde. Captain Markus ‘Spartan’ Nicolos, also of the Golden Horde, had contracted the Stone Mountain, out of his own pocket, to transport Sergeant Baker to the Wrogul at the Cerulean Clinic so they could heal her and then bring her back.
“Omar, let the clinic know we have to take care of some business. We’ll be back to pick up Sergeant Baker as soon as we’re able. Copy Captain Nicolos and Colonel Enkh, just in case.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s get moving toward the gate. Best course to the Zaotov system,” Sloan ordered.
“One jump, sir. Getting it set up now,” his navigator responded.
Sloan tapped a combination on his screen to raise Lieutenant Nancy Moore, the commander of the squad of CASPers he had on board.
“Yes, Captain?” she responded.
“Looks like we’ve got a mission. We’ve got an SOS in the Zaotov system. It’s at least a month old…but we’re still going to check it out. You’ve got
one jump to get the team ready.”
“We’ll be ready, sir.”
“You’re not going to tell the crew?” Wilson asked once the channel was closed.
“That we just got a message from Valdosta, and we’re going to the rescue? No. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”
Sloan leaned back in his command chair and chewed his bottom lip. It felt good to be on the way to do what they were supposed to be doing, but the timing felt wrong. His was the only ship left in the Intergalactic Haulers, as far as he knew. According to that message, there were more of the Haulers out there, and they needed help. Not long ago, the Haulers had been the go-to company for search and rescue for mercenary units in trouble. Now their own leader, callsign Snowman, was missing in action.
* * *
Intergalactic Haulers Transport Stone Mountain, Hyperspace
“Something feels wrong about this,” Wilson observed as he pulled himself down into a chair in Captain Sloan’s office after several days in hyperspace.
“I know,” Sloan sighed, “but we can’t ignore it.”
“It could easily be a trap.”
“Frankly, it probably is. Someone out there doesn’t like us very much, but I’m not going to ignore a chance to find them!”
The Gates of Hell Page 30
