Unfaithful Covenant

by Michael Anderle

  “Why go to all the trouble?” Chinara stopped and smiled at a flowing green lace dress. “We’ll figure out somewhere nice for our honeymoon. Maybe Venus. Oh, we did set the date. That took a lot of planning because everyone’s relatives and friends are busy doing something. Announcements will be going out soon.” She rolled her eyes. “Set it aside now. June 15, 2231.”

  “That long?” Jia’s brow lifted. “I thought since you’d decided on a place like this, it’d be sooner.”

  “A little anticipation never hurts a woman.” Chinara nodded firmly. “And I’ve found my dress.”

  Imogen giggled. “It’s strange when you think about it.”

  Chinara turned to her friend. “What is? I like this dress.”

  “No, it’s beautiful.” Imogen smiled. “It’s that they’ll have the dress made and brought here, but imagine if they just simulated the dress, too.”

  “It wouldn’t feel right,” Jia complained. “Trust me, I spend a lot of time in nano-AR. More than is healthy. It can feel very real, but the fine details are off. Clothes that are moving are the worst.”

  Jia didn’t like Imogen’s huge grin.

  “You and Erik like to spend a lot of time in nano-AR?” Imogen asked, waggling her eyebrows. “Participating in…fantasies?”

  Jia’s cheeks heated. “Uh, for training! For training. Security contractor things, nothing, uh…” She waved a hand, trying desperately to come up with a way to get out of this verbal mess. “Nothing fantastical.”

  Fighting Leems didn’t count as fantasy, though the bikini squads of the past might qualify.

  Imogen snickered. “Whatever you say. No shame.”

  “We’re here for Chinara,” Jia insisted firmly. “Let’s not lose focus.”

  “It’s okay,” Chinara offered softly. “I don’t think I’m going to decide much other than this dress today, and I still am going to go home and spend the next week looking at minor variants. The problem is I thought I knew what kind of wedding I wanted, but now I don’t. Having it here provides more choices.” She motioned toward the galaxy above. “I’m tempted to do something very exotic.”

  “Leem waitstaff,” Imogen suggested, taking a sip of the champagne the wedding center had provided for the three of them.

  “How much have you had?” Jia gave her friend a questioning look. “Unless Chinara’s family is a bunch of Grayheads, they probably don’t want Leem waiters.”

  Chinara laughed softly. “No, but she does have a point. There are a lot of options. My head tells me to do something conventional and normal, beautiful but boring. My heart suggests something crazy, something that might get my grandmother shaking her finger at me.”

  “Really?” Jia’s gaze ticked up to the galaxies. “Are you sure Imogen hasn’t hypnotized you?”

  Imogen gave Jia a dirty look. “You make it sound crazy.” She put down her glass.

  Had she ever been such a drinking lightweight? Yes, yes she had. “It’s not…that, Imogen. I’m surprised is all.”

  “It’s the thought of change,” Chinara explained. She walked over to where different data windows floated, filled with sliders, buttons, and text boxes displaying different wedding options. “I’m not prepared to be a wild woman, but I don’t mind experimenting.”

  Imogen put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a wild woman. I’m fun.”

  Chinara tapped the data window and ran her finger along the slider. A wall appeared to her side, the color slowly changing along a gradient from red to blue with the slider’s position.

  “Does this alter anything you thought about marriage?” Chinara asked, pulling her hand away from the data window.

  Imogen shrugged. “I’m not sure. Part of me wants to throw Michael down and demand we get married, but another part of me wants to continue dating for ten years.”

  They both looked at Jia, their gazes heavy and expectant. She tried to ignore them but gave up.

  Friends.

  “I’m hoping it’s in the future for us,” Jia admitted. “But our work situation is complicated right now. Things aren’t stable, but there’s a chance they will stabilize eventually, maybe even soon.”

  Nothing wrong with keeping hope alive.

  “You so sure?” Imogen raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What if things get all normal and easy, and Erik decides he’s bored?”

  “He’s not like that.” Jia shook her head, no doubt in her mind about Erik. “Trust me. If this weren’t real, I’d know it. Like I said, it’s just a matter of the situation changing.”

  “If he’s not going to ask you anytime soon, why not just ask him?” Imogen prodded, inclining her head at Chinara. “If she can wait a long time to get married, you can get engaged now and set a date way off.”

  “No, not yet. We’re in a good place. Besides…” Jia sighed and averted her eyes. “It’s stupid and old-fashioned, but…”

  “But what?”

  Chinara and Imogen stepped forward, their faces alight with eagerness. There was no way Jia could dodge the question now.

  Stupid, great, annoying, persistent friends!

  Jia eyed them. “The truth is, I was the one who forced things initially. I don’t think Erik was looking for anything, and I don’t blame him since he was in a weird headspace. I don’t always want to be the one pushing. If we’re going to have a future together, I want to know that it’ll happen without me going all Full Control Lin on it.”

  Chinara smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting him to ask you, Jia.”

  “True.” Imogen bobbed her head in eager agreement. “Nothing wrong with that at all.” Her breath caught. “If you get married, is it going to be on Venus?”

  “I have no idea.” Jia had to admit, just talking to her friends about the subject could and did bring a huge smile to her face. “I’d honestly prefer something small, but I don’t think there is anywhere in the galaxy I could run if my mother didn’t get to plan the ultimate wedding.” She winked. “For now, I’ll see what works for you two and adjust accordingly.”

  Chapter Five

  September 10, 2230, Gliese 581, New Samarkand, Sogdia

  “It’s like the worst damned concert in the world,” muttered Lieutenant Cabrina Pena.

  The drumbeat of explosions and gunshots continued, and despite the audio filters in her helmet, the vibrations seeped from the ground into her exoskeleton and then to her body. Her ears would probably be ringing for a day, and her muscles would ache for a while.

  She’d never complain about long stretches of boredom again.

  Her ears also itched. That was an exo design flaw they needed to address. If a soldier was in the middle of the battle and couldn’t disengage their arms from the exo’s interface, he or she just had to suffer the annoying distraction.

  A small irritation in battle not only could but would kill. That was what she would write in her recommendation form.

  “LT,” transmitted one of her soldiers on the right of her loose formation. “All the evac flitters are loading and almost ready for lift-off. They’re reporting all civilians accounted for and taking off in five minutes per HQ’s orders.”

  “Five minutes is a damned eternity,” Cabrina complained. “And they’re staggering the launches to make sure they have one-to-one air support in the next sector.” She glanced at her HUD. “But that doesn’t help us. I can’t believe they let us get flanked like this.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, LT.”

  “If we’re the choir, let’s make this a concert,” Cabrina replied.

  Command wanted all the civilians from this neighborhood to move to a more defensible position while they drew the attention of rebel forces off with counter-offensives in other sectors.

  At least an earlier wave of Dragons had pounded the shit out of the rebel arty, but now their ground forces were moving in, clearly not as distracted as HQ had predicted.

  “We’re not losing a single one of those flitters,” Cabrina announced. “We’re the be
st squad in the 919th, and we’re going to show all those other losers how it’s done. We’re probably outnumbered. What’s that mean?”

  “We’re out of shits to give!” the squad shouted back.

  “Exactly. Let’s show them what Army Assault Infantry can do.”

  Cabrina’s eyes darted to a drone feed projected on the corner of her faceplate.

  Her squad had barely been able to maintain their aerial recon assets between the jamming and rebel gunfire, but the last of her little flying spies zoomed close to a building, highlighting a mass of advancing unmounted rebel infantry. She was less concerned about them than the rebel exos rapidly closing on their position and the six-rack surface-to-air missile launcher they’d hauled in the back of a hovertruck.

  Three exos guarded the missiles, loosely surrounding the truck. There was no indication that they knew they’d been spotted.

  Relying on the enemy to make mistakes was a bad strategy for winning a war, but she’d take it for a battle. The mercs were a lot tougher than the rebels, but she knew all too well how a couple of real battles could train a man or woman up far quicker than weeks in a simulator.

  The cynical side said it got rid of the chaff efficiently, leaving you with raw material with natural talent.

  “We’re moving now,” Cabrina barked. “We’ve got five minutes to take out those missiles unless we want to be responsible for dead civilians. Now, move, move, move!”

  She surged forward in her exo, raising her machine gun and rocket launcher, her shield fully expanded. The rest of her six-person squad kept pace in a loose line, no one too far forward or back.

  A flash in the drone feed preceded its termination. She’d been expecting that, but she now knew the enemy’s position. Her squad would protect the civilians or die trying.

  “Alpha Four through Six, break off and pressure them on their left flank,” Cabrina called. “Maybe we can peel off some of the missile guards. Two and Three, we’re going over the top to take out those SAMs. Stay on my ass. Once we’re clear of the building, unload on the missiles.”

  The two sub-squads broke apart. Normally, exos charging down a street could easily be heard, but with all the background battle noise from the surrounding neighborhoods, their advance wasn’t noteworthy. Cabrina concentrated on the two buildings blocking her path to the SAM launcher, one shorter than the other, a few stair steps before falling into death.

  There were at least forty people on each cargo flitter. Her unit couldn’t and wouldn’t lose. She owed that to herself, the Army, all the civilians on New Samarkand, and her brother.

  God rest his soul.

  The rebels and their merc buddies might have taken the local garrison by surprise, but the Army was pushing back now. It was time to show the ruthless assholes that a single soldier was worth five of them.

  An alert flashed in the corner of her eye. One of the flitters was taking off early. They were out of time.

  “Engaging left flank,” reported Alpha Four.

  The background noise became a foreground cacophony as the roar of machine guns and rocket explosions added their bone-shaking contribution. Cabrina confidently focused on the task at hand.

  “Two exos breaking away from the SAM to lay down cover for the infantry,” reported Alpha Four.

  “Good. They took the bait. We’ve got this. Alpha Three, neutralize the last guard once clear.”

  Cabrina continued her forward dash, her exo sprinting across the uneven surface and knocking loose rubble out of its way with its heavy feet. Her two squadmates stayed close as the first building loomed in front of her.

  Gritting her teeth, she launched the exo into the air. It’d all come down to the next minute. A perfect angle. She landed on top of the building and sprinted forward a couple more meters before jumping again. The other two exos bounded with her in almost perfect unison as if they’d practiced this every day, all day.

  Her team cut their speed when they reached the edge. The SAM launcher was spinning into position, but as predicted, only a single enemy exo stood near it. The rebel infantry had spread out behind the makeshift barriers of destroyed vehicles, trying to escape the wrath of the rest of her squad. Their feeble return fire bounced off the exos’ heavy ballistic shields.

  One of the rebel exos charging in to support their troops was so sloppy he didn’t have his shield expanded. Two rockets struck him square in the chest and blew him apart.

  The greatest weapon in the galaxy meant nothing without the ability and confidence to use it properly.

  The sole guard exo near the SAM truck at least had his shield expanded, but he was not smart enough. He’d turned toward the other ground action, leaving his back wide open. Alpha Three sidestepped for a better angle before firing three rockets in rapid succession. They screamed toward their target, leaving a trail of smoke.

  Cabrina didn’t wait for them to hit before she and Alpha Two let loose on the SAM truck with their own rocket barrage. Small explosions rippled across the truck and the large SAMs, then a massive plume of fire rose from the truck, consuming it like a hungry demon. The shockwave rocked the nearby buildings, cracking walls and windows and knocking the exos on the roof back.

  It flattened the closest rebel infantry.

  “Damn it,” Cabrina muttered. “That was a bigger explosion than I thought we’d see, but it got the job done. Everyone pull back to the initial defensive line. All we need to do is keep them pinned down.”

  Dedicated air support to defend the flitters flew in the distance far beyond easy view from her smoky, ground-filled battlefield.

  A quick push off the rooftop got her exo back on its feet. Her rearview camera feed marked a flitter lifting into the air and flying in the opposite direction. She held her breath, praying there wasn’t another hidden SAM, ready to take them out.

  She allowed herself additional oxygen as the flitter disappeared into the distance.

  “They’re clear,” she announced as she jumped back to the first building. “We just have to keep it up. Status?”

  “All nearby enemy exos neutralized,” reported Alpha Four. “The rest of the infantry is pulling back. They’re not even picking up the guys the blast knocked down. I think we won this one, LT.”

  “We won’t hold the party until every last one of those flitters is clear,” Cabrina insisted. “But that should be pretty easy to call if the rebels are running.”

  “LT, three o’clock, above the buildings,” Alpha Two reported.

  Cabrina frowned and turned her head that way. A black dot was rapidly approaching. She magnified the image on her visor and hissed in frustration. It was a slender, short-winged aircraft with a flexible-looking three-barrel turret on the bottom and two large, nasty rocket pods. She didn’t recognize the design, but besides the surprising thinness, the profile didn’t differ radically from an Army Dragon.

  “This is Alpha Platoon at evacuation checkpoint Foxtrot 4-4,” she transmitted. “Incoming enemy light gunship. Request air support.”

  “Hold position, Alpha Platoon,” replied HQ. “All air assets in your area are currently engaged. Routing mobile AAA to your area, ETA four minutes.”

  “Roger.” Cabrina jumped down and backed her exo closer to the corner of the building, followed by her squadmates. At least the craters, half-collapsed buildings, and destroyed vehicles gave them some chance of not being torn up, but exos weren’t renowned for their ability to take on aircraft.

  The enemy hadn’t been beaten. They were getting the hell out of there so their friends could cut loose without the risk of collateral damage.

  “LT, what’s the play?” Alpha Two asked.

  “Spread out, but everyone keep moving from cover to cover. Don’t bother with rockets, we’re not going to get that lucky. We need to survive until the AAA shows up and blows that wannabe Dragon out of the sky. It’s probably being flown by some rebel idiot who has a total of an hour in the air.”

  The squad shouted their understanding and rushed into
craters and behind large chunks of rubble. Cabrina didn’t like working with timers, but a soldier didn’t always get to pick her battles. She knew one thing that day, and that was the most important. As the last surviving child of the Pena family, the Devil would need to do a lot better than becoming a cocky rebel if he wanted her life.

  An explosion not far in front of her announced the arrival of the gunship. Her spread-out squad fired in such near unison that it might have been a practiced, coordinated volley. They vomited bullets during the first pass of the blurred black aircraft, unsure if they hit it.

  Mild smoke from its thrusters followed.

  The enemy spun with a quick thrust as if physics were a mere recommendation. Cabrina almost didn’t believe what she was seeing, but she didn’t let that stop her from charging out from behind her current barricade into a crater and squeezing off another burst.

  Her opponent lurched and wobbled like a leaf in an ever-changing wind. She’d never seen a piloted atmospheric craft move like that. There was only so much grav fields could do with abrupt changes of direction.

  Biology asserted itself at the most inconvenient of times.

  “The bastards don’t even have the balls to face us,” she hissed. “They’re remote-piloting the damned thing.”

  A string of rockets hit the ground, scalding the shield of one of her squadmates but causing no serious damage. Her gaze flicked to her squad’s vitals, which showed elevated heart rates and mild damage to their exos but nothing else.

  They could do this. They could stall. Even better, they could win.

  As long as the gunship focused on them, they’d be fine. Another flitter lifted off behind them and zoomed away.

  With a defiant yell, Cabrina changed positions again, this time risking a jump from the crater into another as she tried to nail the maneuverable threat above. She landed and hurried behind a half-melted hovertank, her jaw tightening when a rocket struck close behind Alpha Three. His exo tumbled to the ground, but his vitals stayed solid.