Static Crackled on my helmet’s com-link.
“Watch the bug strike, Armory; Sensors say we’re passing through a big patch of them and the lateral, starboard bow’s about to get pummeled,” came a calm commanding voice.
Then another signal overrode it in a heavily accented voice.
“I need another war-band; we’ve got a quad of Borer Bugs with accompanying Warrior Bugs digging into the hull. Sergeant Demiphone…out,” said the Lancer Sergeant.
I rolled my eyes, “If only I could lock onto that signal of yours, I’m sure I could—” I started to drawl over the com-network before my suit cut me off.
“Signal locked on,” my suit said in a mechanical voice in my ear, and then my HUD showed a pair of flashing lights. One was my suit, and the other was the location of transmission.
“Belay my last. I’m on the way,” I said with surprise. It seemed there were features to these suits I had never known about.
“Cut the chatter,” growled a voice over the network, “this is the command channel, so whoever this is needs to shut up or keep it relevant.”
My face colored and I couldn’t really say he was wrong—whoever he was—but pride trammeled up my tongue.
“This is the Admiral,” I said coolly, “I’m advancing on the Sergeant’s position.”
There was a moment of shocked silence on the link. “Are you sure—” started the voice, which I was coming to recognize as belonging to Armsmen Atkins when his transmission was cut off by an overwhelming roar of approval.
Surprised, I stood flat footed while my Lancers started chanting,“Warlord-Warlord-Warlord,” over a sub-channel.
Clenching the fist not holding a blaster rifle, I felt a surge of something I hadn’t felt in a long time: pride. I was proud of myself for the first time in months, and not because I was some kind of great Admiral or leader of men, but because I’d somehow been lucky enough and done enough to earn the loyalty of these warrior men.
Most of all though I was proud of the men fighting off these Bugs, and with my chest swelling with an emotion that I’d become unused lately, I bared my teeth in a savage smile and charged forward as fast as my mag-boots would take me.
“Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet,” I shouted over the com-link’s command channel, “and our Lancers and Armory teams!”
“Forward to Victo—” I started to yell again as I rounded a heavy laser mount sticking out of the hull, when I ran full tilt into a huge Warrior Bug and literally bounced off it.
Slamming backward into the laser mount, I lost my magnetic lock on the hull and had to scramble for a new purchase.
“Activating hull reacquisition system,” the mechanical voice came over my helmet speakers, and all of a sudden I lost contact with the laser mount as thrusters I hadn’t even been aware were built into this new model suit of mine activated and I felt myself spinning around. Flailing my arms for something, anything, to keep me attached the hull I gave a strangled cry of startled outrage.
My boots hit the ground a half second later. “Whoa,” I said flailing my arms.
“Hull reacquired,” reported the mechanical voice right before something grabbed me around the middle and lifted me up into the air—well, obviously not ‘into the air’ because we were in the cold vacuum of space. My wandering thoughts didn’t get any further before I was picked up like some sort of oversized club and slammed torso-first into the side of the heavy laser protruding from the ship.
“Hull reacquisition system activating,” my suit computer started to inform me.
“Belay that, computer; deactivate the reacquisition system,” I gasped as the oversized Bug pincer arms started to squeeze around the middle like a vice, right before slamming my battle-suit up against the laser mount once again.
“Reacquisition system halted, standing by for new orders…” the power armor computer kept blathering on about something or other, but I didn’t have time to deal with it like it deserved. So instead of screaming with outrage and trying to rip its electronic guts out, I pointed my blaster rifle towards my feet and rapidly pulled the trigger.
“Die, Bug thing,” I screamed, firing my blaster rifle as fast as the weapon would cycle. I’d deal with this infernal new computer system later.
The Bug slammed me again, only this time against the hull and I was wishing with all my might for my old Dark Sword of Power, or even just a sturdy vibro-blade—anything I could hold in my hands and chop this bug up into small little parts like it deserved!
My breath whooshed out of me and everything hurt from the toes of my feet all the way up to the hair on my head.
Catching a glimpse of a veritable field of multi-faceted eyes, I switched my flailing aim and unloaded on its head.
The Bug writhed and I could see its mouth open in a silent shriek before it threw me away from the ship.
Seeing the ship passing rapidly under me, I aimed my blaster rifle between my feet and fired.
“Computer,” I screamed as I kept moving away from the ship at speed, “reactivate hull acquisition mode!”
“Executing,” reported the dry, mechanical voice of my new suit’s computer.
“Hurry,” I yelled as I rapid-fired my blaster rifle, sending my suit into a spin.
“Executing,” the Computer assured me in the same dry, mechanical voice. I was looking for a sense of urgency here, something to match my own feeling of impending doom, and all I was getting here was a computer synthesized voice. As soon as I got back inside the ship I was going to string up the Armsmaster and whoever else thought it was such a sweet idea to give me this defective pile of power armo—
I trailed off as the suit thrusters engaged, stabilizing my uncontrolled spin and then going turbo-powered to send me hurtling to the hull at a speed so fast it felt like I was falling off a giant building and about to splatter—just like a Bug strike, I thought lamentingly—on the hull of the ship! Instinctively I raised my arm to break my fall, even though I knew on an intellectual level that I was going too fast for my arm to really help out one way or the other.
“Stupid, factory-defective spawn of the Demon Murphy,” I raged, holding both arms up in front of my head when the suit thrusters activated with punishing force, “I’m going to use your guts for garters, I’ll melt you down for spare parts. I’ll—” My arms were still up over my head when I felt my feet reattach themselves to the hull.
“What?” I yelled, tearing my arms back down to my sides instinctively. I was back on the ship! I stood there staring around in disbelief for a moment as the brief surge of primal fury began to leave me.
Then the flash of blaster and plasma fire caught my attention. Turning toward those flashes, I saw a pair of giant Bugs tearing into the hull, and they were surrounded by number of the oversized Marine/Warrior Bugs like the one I’d just encountered.
Marine Bugs went hand to hand with my Lancers in their old style power armor suits, or they would pause for several seconds and fire a burning, green ball out of a large, conical piece of material that looked like the living hull of their ships. One of those balls hit a Lancer and he fell to the hull, jerking and twisting in what looked like sheer agony.
“Computer, target that Bug and get me there—quick,” I ordered in a no-nonsense voice.
“Acquiring target,” the computer said, cycling a yellow halo over several of the Bugs on my HUD. The second time it highlighted a giant, boring, beetle-type Bug, I realized it was waiting for me to confirm.
“That’s the one,” I said impatiently, not really caring which one it was just so long as I got into that fight as quickly as possible.
The suit’s thrusters activated and shot me toward the conflict like a rocket. I was over the Bug position and just starting to hover for a controlled landing on the surface of the giant Bug when a Lancer with a vibro-blade jumped up on the thing’s back and started carving into it with his melee weapon.
The Bug reared up, its mouth opening into a silent scream as it tried to toss of the Lancer. Loo
king at the situation, I didn’t think the Lancer was going to be around for very long, at least not if he was determined to stay on the back of that Bug, but as far as I was concerned this was a win; that particular Bug was no longer digging through the armor of my ship!
Aiming my blaster rifle into the Bug’s massive, gaping maw, I opened my mouth and screamed. Pulling the trigger, I unloaded into the borer’s face, and my blaster bolts ricocheted off the heavily armored interior of it mouth. Ignoring my attacks, the Bug gave a full body shudder that started at its head and worked its way all the way back to its now-wiggling hind end.
This blaster clearly wasn’t working on a Bug this gargantuan, and once again I was more than a little frustrated that I was stuck with a relatively puny blaster rifle instead of a plasma rifle—or even a vibro-sword!
Then I noticed that while the Lancer was no longer riding the Bug’s back, his vibro blade was still sticking out of the thing’s gargantuan, armored back! “Alright,” I said with determination, “suit: land me on that Bug’s back as fast as possible.”
“Confirm,” the Computer said with a chime.
“Confirmed already,” I shouted in frustration. This kind of time lag between giving orders and having them carried out was criminal to the point of being lethal; there had to be a better way!
“Executing,” the Computer acknowledged, and no sooner had the words came of its mechanical voice than I slammed feet-first into the back of the Borer Bug.
Staggering for a foothold, I clambered up the Bug using my scrambling feet and duralloy-gauntleted fingers for purchase. Reaching the sword a few seconds later, I grasped the still-active weapon’s hilt.
Drawing the blade out was more than a little difficult, as it felt like it had been encased in into stone, at least at first. Then, with a giant heave, the blade came free and I raised it high.
That was when I spotted a glowing, green projectile shooting towards me and I instinctively ducked. The green fireball missed me, but hit the sword on the blade right above the hilt and my armor felt like it was starting to lock up.
“Em-m-m-m-mergency c-c-c-ountermeasures,” the suit said in a stuttering, mechanical voice and my fingers flew open against my will, releasing the sword. As my body stopped jerking with uncontrollable movements, I realized I was now weaponless. I also realized something else I hadn’t been the one to open my hand: this blasted suit had overridden my manual control!
“Computer, I’m going to give you a full-on frontal lobotomy, the first chance I get,” I snarled with outrage at finding myself completely disarmed.
“Ionic attack disabled,” the Computer reported in what I was growing more and more certain was a secretly smug voice—the blasted thing was just hiding its true nature under a mechanical synthesizer!
“You’ll rue the day you crossed Jason Montagne,” I promised, leaning down on the Bug and straightening the fingers of my hand into what my unarmed instructors called a blade, and I prepared to dig my way into the guts of this beast with nothing by my hands, if necessary.
Something went snick, and my right arm suddenly sprouted a three foot long, duralloy blade. I stared at it with a shock that slowly turned into a hard-edged smile, “I don’t know how I got this arm-blade, computer, but this Bug is going down!” I said savagely.
“Arm blade was activated by manual release,” the Computer said in its emotionless, dry voice, but I was wise to its tricks now.
I stiffened my other hand into the same finger-blade as my right and this suit’s left blade activated. “Likely story,” I sneered, “I’m not fooled; you’re just trying to get on my good side.” Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I really thought that my suit was intelligent…well, I was 95% sure it wasn’t, anyway. I was too paranoid to dismiss any possibilities at this point. Either way, I and whoever handed me this suit without the instruction manual were going to have an extended talk—if and when I survived this mess.
Moving with renewed purpose, I stabbed down into the Bug’s thick, armored hide using these nifty new arm blades I’d just discovered. If I couldn’t use a vibro-blade, these things would just have to do.
Cutting, digging and rending the Bug’s hide with all the force of my power assisted battle-suit, I soon had a hold dug down into the monster’s abdomen. Of course, this caused the Bug to immediately rear up and do its whole ‘shiver/shake/rattle’ thing to try and throw me off, but with a hole to hold onto it couldn’t do much.
Sadly, other than mangling whatever internal organs I could reach by sinking my arm into its body up to my shoulder and shredding whatever I could reach, I wasn’t having much success, either. That’s when I remembered I wasn’t the only one out here fighting these creatures.
“Anyone have a spare plasma grenade?” I demanded, activating my com-link to local channel only; I didn’t need to be asking for help from someone on the other side of the hull. I was more than a little surprised at how harsh my voice sounded in my own ears, “I’ve got a hole dug in this Bug’s back that’s just begging for a super-heated plasma.”
There was a moment of silence.
“It’s the Warlord,” a Lancer said in his Tracto accented voice.
“I’ve got one, Protector,” another man said.
“Where is he?” demanded yet a third, “I can’t see him!”
“I’m up here riding this thing’s back,” I growled, holding on for all I was worth as the Bug reared up and tried to shake me off once again.
“The Warlord is in an Armory suit!” said the first Tracto-accented voice.
“Coming now, Warlord,” the Lancer that said he had a plasma grenade reported, and I saw a man in one of the Clover’s old battle-suits jump from the hull.
A renewed flurry of plasma and blaster fire shot from the squad of Lancers surrounding the pair of Borer bugs and their Warrior Bug defensive force.
I was certain the Warrior with the grenade was going to actually make his impossible leap, when a green ball shot up from a Bug Marine/Warrior and exploded full-force the warrior’s arm, sending him into a spin. Seeing one of my loyal warriors jerking and writhing in what I was now pretty sure was some kind of modified ion attack, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Even if it wasn’t the smart play, I had to go help him.
Before I could think about it any further, my legs had bunched underneath me and now I was the one leaping into the void beyond the ship. Seconds later, another green fireball shot just in front of me and I experienced a rare moment of clarity—or maybe it should be called an ‘epiphany.’
Jean Luc Montagne would never risk his life for some man he’d probably never even met but I, Jason Montagne, had just done so without a second thought and would do so again in a heartbeat. Jean Luc wouldn’t, not unless he saw some great personal benefit to himself. Establishing crew loyalty, for example; a debt he could cash in on in the future, some angle.
In that moment, I recognized a critical difference between myself and my traitorous, pirate Uncle. While I might have many of those same calculation spinning through my mind at any given time, regardless of however much the universe might have hardened me I was still willing to put the needs of others ahead of my own. I doubted in the extreme that Jean Luc put the needs of anyone ahead of his own.
I mean, sure, I had that sly, calculating, Montagne devil riding on my proverbial shoulder and whispering in my ear, just like I figured my Uncle did. In all reality it was almost certainly because I hadn’t listened closely enough to that paranoid, self-centered devil that I’d almost lost everything. But I figured that so long as I had that other voice—the still, small one that liked to whisper in the opposite ear and occasionally urged me to jump without thinking out into cold space to save some guy I didn’t even know—I would know that I wasn’t one of those evil, bloodthirsty, blood-feuding Montagne.
Even if I didn’t listen to that little voice all the time, I could still be a positive force for good; and there was no way I would abandon the people who depended on me.
&nbs
p; Slamming into the twitching man with the plasma grenade, I grappled reflexively, trying to get a hold on him but the spin he’d been thrown into was making that difficult in the extreme. Finally, I clamped onto a foot and its attached leg and the ensuing ‘nails-on-chalkboard’ screeching of duralloy on duralloy that I literally felt rather than heard, reminded me that I still had my blade extensions out. One small mistake, I thought bitterly.
Wiggling my hands around rapidly, I was unable to figure out on my own how to retract the fighting blades built into this suit’s arms.
“Computer,” I growled, “how do I get rid of these three foot, duralloy blades? Never mind,” I said, shaking my head irritably; it would be just my luck that this stupid computer would either engage me in a twisted series of questions and answers while I was getting shot at, or alternately eject the blades from my arms somehow without asking me. “Just pull them back in if you can, and execute a fast maneuver to put us back on the back of that Bug!”
“Processing,” said the Computer and I rolled my eyes as I secured a tighter grip on the man’s armor. After several seconds the atonal voice returned, “Executing.” The blades fell back with a snick as the suit thrusters activated. For a pair of seconds, the gee forces felt absolutely incredible, and the next thing I knew I was crashing into the back of the Bug with the Lancer I was holding crashing into it first. My head crashed into his torso as, thanks to my computer, I did a pile driver right into his belly.
Sensing movement, I groped around blindly until my hands came across a grenade hanging off the Lancer’s belt. Not checking to see if it was the plasma grenade I was looking for or one of the puny, sonic variety, I activated it without looking and tossed it into the hole I’d dug into the back of the Bug.
Grabbing a firm hold of the no longer twitching Lancer, I manhandled him over onto my shoulder and jumped with all the power in my battle-suited legs. “Activate thrusters,” I ordered.
“Please designate a destination,” the Computer voice said back mechanically.
Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 14
