by Isaac Hooke
“Nicely done,” Rade said. “So we come aboard your ship, and Falon doesn’t know we survived. What then?”
“First of all, tell me,” Bourbonjack said. “Did you retrieve that so-called traitorous Green? Is she aboard?”
“I’m not sure I feel at liberty to tell you at the moment,” Rade said.
“Well if she is, you better damn well bring her with you,” Bourbonjack said. “Because we need some kind of plan to stop these Phants. We’re going to smuggle you to the planet.”
Rade considered that. “We’re going to have to bring our Hoplites, and the associated booster rockets. I can’t see any sort of effective operation taking place without them.”
“Fine,” Bourbonjack said. “We’ll discard some of our shuttles to make room.”
“We need a full three shuttle hangar bays to hold them,” Rade said.
“Okay, it’s done,” Bourbonjack said. “Now get over here. I’m positioning the Piranha to block all sight of your ship from the planet.”
The Piranha was the name of Bourbonjack’s Corsair, according to the registry title.
“We’ll also need a hangar bay to hold the Dragonfly containing the rest of my crew,” Rade said.
“Again, I’ll make room,” Bourbonjack said. “Now hurry up while I tell Falon we were forced to destroy you. I’ll say your attack came with surprising ferocity... before we knew it, you disabled both corvettes, and we had to fire in self-defense. And I’ll blame our delay here on tarrying to search for survivors. Of course I’ll have to inform him later that sadly, we didn’t find any. I’ll also tell him that it appears you weren’t able to rescue the rogue Green.”
Rade dismissed the feed and glanced at his men. “Well, you heard the man. We’re abandoning ship for the time being. Shaw, retrieve the twins and head to the shuttle hangar bay. You’ll have to suit up before entering the bay, because of the breach. Have the surviving combat robots join you aboard the Dragonfly. Make sure they transfer the Phant trap from the cargo bay to the shuttle. The rest of us will proceed to the Hoplites and cross over in the mechs.”
Next, Rade alerted Surus of the plan, and told her what Bourbonjack had revealed regarding the Greens.
“I don’t know what Falon and Ghal are doing,” Surus said. “This is a clear violation of the council’s edict. They were not to interfere in the preparatory activities of the other Phants in this region of space, nor abet them, as they are doing here. They must be stopped.”
“I agree completely,” Rade said.
“This Bourbonjack,” Surus said. “Can we trust him?”
“At the moment, we don’t really have a choice,” Rade said. “I’ll play along with his game for the time being. He was trustworthy once, back on the Teams. More than trustworthy. So I’m inclined to believe his intentions here. I don’t plan on telling him which of the combat robots you inhabit, however.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Surus said.
“I hope so, too,” Rade replied. He informed the remaining Argonauts who were not on the bridge of the evacuation procedure, and then hurried into the passageway outside, following the others.
Bourbonjack tapped in on a private line while Rade was making his way to the mech hangar bay. Voice only.
“What is it?” Rade said.
“I want to apologize,” Bourbonjack said. “I’ve never been so wrong about a client. I thought I was the high and mighty one.”
“Yeah well, I knew you’d come around, eventually,” Rade said. “Everyone does, when they realize they’re putting the entire human race at risk.”
Bourbonjack sounded contrite. “And here I thought the Greens were our allies.”
“We all did,” Rade said. “But it’s not all that surprising how readily allies can turn to war, is it? Given what we’ve seen in the past with human nations and planets.”
“War is simply an extension of policy,” Bourbonjack agreed. “When that policy changes, war often follows.”
“Yes,” Rade said. “And if we don’t stop them here, that war is going to be devastating.”
“But can we stop them?” Bourbonjack said. “Have you talked to that Green of yours, yet? Can we trust her?” When Rade didn’t answer, Bourbonjack chuckled softly over the line. “I know you have her. You wouldn’t have pursued us, otherwise. I guess I’ll have to trust her, if you were willing to risk your life to save her. Even if you don’t trust me.”
“As far as trusting you goes, I’ll reserve judgment until I’m quartered safely aboard the Piranha,” Rade said.
“All I ask is that you tell me you have a way to stop them,” Bourbonjack said. “Falon hasn’t shared his containment technology with us. Nor any stun capabilities. And sure, we could try to fire Vipers from orbit, but we all know lasers won’t do squat against Phants. We’d only cause them to respond by returning fire with the colony’s surface-to-space lasers, bringing us down.”
“There might be a way,” Rade said. “It depends on how close you can bring us to the planet without Falon noticing. Which begs the question: How far can you trust your crew? Will they betray us?”
“No,” Bourbonjack said. “I trust them unequivocally. We’ve already reprogrammed and isolated the two robots Falon left aboard my ship to spy on us, to ensure my obedience. As for those mercenaries aboard the Raccoon, well, I trust them to a degree. Still, I’m wary, considering that they’ve been in the service of Ghal since the attack on the Franco-Italian moon base. While they might have been disturbed by what they saw taking place on the planet, they’re very easily swayed by money, and the promise of it, even if it means a war unfolding against humanity. So I would prefer not involving them in any operations we may plan, at least not until the last minute. I also have no intention of telling them you and your crew are aboard the Piranha.”
“You said Falon is on the surface with Ghal?” Rade asked. He had reached the mech hangar bay and was suiting up with the others.
“That’s right,” Bourbonjack said. “Along with the rest of the Phants, and their personal robot army.”
“Robot army?” Rade said. “That’s new.”
“Yes,” Bourbonjack said. “The machines were stowed aboard the vast cargo bays of the merchant carrier.”
“Have any of the newly arrived Phants traveled to the ships in orbit around the colony?” Rade asked.
“Not yet,” Bourbonjack said. “At least according to the Raccoon. Instead they’re possessing different robots down there. And building something. It looks like a ship.”
“All right,” Rade said. “We’ll talk about this later when I’m aboard.”
He disconnected and finished suiting up, then climbed into his Hoplite. Harlequin, also suited, entered the mech beside him. The Artificial was fully repaired by then.
“Welcome back, big boss,” Electron told Rade.
“Yes,” Rade said. “But it’ll only be for a short time.”
“Why does that make me sad?” Electron said.
“Probably because you’ve been sitting here in the hangar bay with nothing to do all this time,” Rade said.
“That would most likely explain it,” Electron agreed.
When everyone was aboard their mechs, Rade had Bax vent the hangar bay.
“I’m going to miss you, boss,” the Argonaut’s AI said. “The ship will be so empty without all of you to spy on. I suppose I’ll have to invent conversations between nonexistent crew members to entertain myself.”
“We’ll miss you too, Bax,” Rade said. “Keep the faith while we’re gone.”
“I’m not sure I know how,” Bax said. “But at the very least, I will do my best to play dead.”
“Yeah, about that,” Rade said. “I’m a bit worried about Phants from the destroyed corvettes trying to board you.”
“My AI core is shielded, as you know,” Bax said. “So they’ll never take control. And I’m drifting far too fast for any Phants to catch me.”
“All right then, this is farewell,
” Rade said. “Open the bay doors and jettison the booster rockets ahead of us.” Those rockets would be needed to launch the Hoplites into orbit after any planetary deployments.
Rade took a running leap and dashed out into the void. He was hit by the nausea of zero G immediately, and instructed Electron to take control. The other mechs followed his outside, including Nemesis, which remained unmanned since Shaw was aboard the Dragonfly. The Hoplites rendezvoused with the jettisoned booster rockets, and steered the payloads toward their destination.
When the Hoplites and shuttle had docked with the Piranha, combat robots escorted the crew to guest staterooms. As a sign of goodwill, they were allowed to keep their weapons. The Argonauts were forced to crowd five men into each unit. Meanwhile the eight combat robots all squeezed into a storage compartment. Shaw stayed in sickbay with the twins in an area Bourbonjack had specifically set aside for them.
Bourbonjack gave Rade access to the Piranha’s tactical display, and Rade confirmed that the ship was indeed heading toward the planet.
Rade tapped in Surus, who remained inside Algorithm as her host, and was thus located in the storage compartment with the other combat robots. Rade still hadn’t told Bourbonjack who she was, and didn’t plan to. The robots were wearing jumpsuits, minus jetpacks, so the condensation from the Green wasn’t readily visible to any watching eyes, including those of the Piranha’s AI. Rade used a common band obfuscating signal that was transmitted and received by the other robots at the same time, so that said AI wouldn’t be able to track which of the Centurions he was sending encrypted communiqués back and forth with.
“How are you liking your new quarters?” Rade asked.
“A little cramped, compared to what I’m used to,” Surus said.
“You’ll be glad to know we’re headed to the planet,” Rade said. “And so far, it seems the Greens are unaware we’re aboard.”
“That is good news,” Surus said. “This Bourbonjack of yours came through after all.”
“He’s a good man,” Rade said. “It just takes him a while to come around. By the way, you never did update me on the status of your arcing stun weapon. Do you need access to the 3D printers aboard the Piranha?”
“Actually, I finished only a few moments before the Argonaut reached the Gate,” Surus replied. “I intended to inform you earlier, but then the regrettable incident at Zambian customs took place.”
“You’re done?” Rade asked. “Then where is the weapon?”
“Hanging from my shoulder as we speak,” Surus said. “It’s only a little bigger than an ordinary rifle. That’s one of the wonders of Taenia tech. It’s very miniaturized.”
“So we’ll need to come up with a plan of attack,” Rade said. “And that weapon will be at the heart of it, no doubt. Apparently Falon and Ghal are using the colony as a staging planet of sorts, teleporting Phants of all types onto the surface from across the galaxy. So far, they haven’t transferred any of them to the ships in orbit.”
“I have a few ideas,” Surus said.
They spoke for an hour, and together they came up with a plan.
Rade connected with Bourbonjack, and shared some of his ideas. “Once we arrive, we’ll need you to sneak us down to the planet. The first part of the plan involves capturing Falon.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Bourbonjack said. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Rade disconnected. He glanced at the time. “Rack out, Argonauts.” He accessed the remote interface of the HLEDs and deactivated them.
The stateroom descended into darkness.
“Quit grabbing my crotch!” Manic said.
“That ain’t me,” Bender said.
“Notice how he assumes I meant him?” Manic said. “When I didn’t even state a name?”
“As I told you, ain’t me,” Bender replied. “Fret must have crawled into your bunk. He’s eager to show you his pussy.”
“Guys, please,” Rade said. “I know it’s a novelty for you... most of you haven’t slept in the same room since your MOTH days. But we’re going to need all the sleep we can get.”
“Sorry boss,” Manic said.
“That’s right,” Bender said. “You and Fret better not wake me with your rutting.”
“Bender...” Rade warned.
“Sorry boss,” Bender said. “G’night.”
Rade closed his eyes once more and was just about to fall asleep when Bender spoke again.
“I know you’re rubbing your clit as you’re thinking about me, Fret,” Bender said. “But one word of advice—”
“Shut up!” a chorus of voices erupted throughout the compartment.
“Sheesh,” Bender said. “Bad night to y’all, then. Bitches.”
twenty-four
Rade sat on the mat of the cramped combat room with Tahoe and Shaw. Bourbonjack was there, with two of his own men. The mercenary chief was using the compartment as a briefing room.
The Piranha had reached orbit only an hour before. Seeming to float in the air between Rade and Bourbonjack was a translucent three-dimensional video of the colony, from an isometric perspective, as projected by Rade’s Implant onto his vision. The video was shared with everyone in the room.
The colony’s geodesic dome had several holes poked in it, with large sections completely shattered. The buildings inside were essentially intact. Constructed in the Zambian style, most were low-slung structures of concrete. There were a few large three- and four-story buildings, likely apartments of some kind. Combat robots, walkers, and treaders patrolled the streets between them. The latter units were essentially turrets on treads. Some of those robots had different colored condensation sweating from their torsos, indicating Phant possession. As Bourbonjack had said earlier, there were all colors of Phant present: Red, Green, Purple, and even a few Black.
There were otherwise no signs of human life. Either the Phants had herded the humans into certain buildings as prisoners, or they had incinerated them. It was also possible most humans died when the dome failed, as the planet’s mostly sulfur dioxide atmosphere was not breathable. There was enough oxygen in the air to produce muted flames, however.
Outside the broken dome was a Zambian shipyard. Most of the time human ships were built and assembled in orbit, but there were some vessel designs that lent themselves well to construction in gravity environments, or at least certain pieces. In any case, that shipyard was alive with activity. Rade couldn’t tell if the worker robots were building a starship or something else.
“It’s gotten worse,” Bourbonjack said. “The Phants are definitely constructing something massive.”
“Has to be a ship,” Tahoe said.
“That would be the obvious conclusion,” Bourbonjack said. “But then again, those 3D printers could be used for anything.”
“See those troops appearing on the Acceptor?” Shaw said.
She extended a finger and circled a large stadium with virtual ink. Rade zoomed in. The teleportation disk was located on the field inside. Five large beings in oversized jumpsuits had appeared there.
“Shock troops,” Bourbonjack said. “This current camera doesn’t have the resolution, but using some of the telephoto lenses, we’ve zoomed in on some of the previous units: inside the glass domes they wear in place of helmets, we’ve spotted faces that look like they belong to squids and reptiles. They also carry the long, sword-like particle rifles we encountered in the First Alien War, fifteen years ago.”
“I hate those weapons,” Shaw said.
“So do I,” Bourbonjack replied.
“Guess they have enough Phants for the time being,” Tahoe commented. “Now they got to start bringing in some of their minions.”
Rade zoomed out and tried to count the number of possessed robots he saw. “So many Phants...”
“You say the Blacks have psi capabilities?” Bourbonjack asked.
“Yes,” Rade said. “But we’ve modified our jumpsuits to protect against their psychic
attacks. We learned how to deal with them the hard way.” He exchanged a pained glance with Shaw.
“All right, well, we begin the operation in thirty minutes,” Bourbonjack said. “You will inform Surus?”
“I will,” Rade said.
He had finally admitted to Bourbonjack that Surus was aboard, as the plan necessitated the mercenary chief having that information, though Rade hadn’t told him which unit she resided inside.
Rade paused as the others filed out. He turned to Bourbonjack and said: “It’s good to have my old master chief back.”
Bourbonjack chuckled. “Not sure I’m back. But I am happy to be on the right side again. By the way, before we do this, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why the hell did you leave the military? You had a good thing going. You weren’t relegated to sitting behind a desk and pushing digital pencils all day like me.”
“Many reasons,” Rade said. “Mostly, I did it for Shaw.”
“Was she worth it?” Bourbonjack asked.
“I’m surprised you even have to ask,” Rade said.
Rade proceeded to the shuttle hangar bay, geared up in his custom jumpsuit, and then loaded into the waiting shuttle. It was a Dragonfly Class 5A, one of those found aboard the Piranha, and plastered with the mercenary team’s logo—a saber-toothed tiger. The Dragonfly model Shaw had flown over from the Argonaut was safely stowed in a different bay.
Algorithm was seated inside the cabin, along with Brat. Both continued wearing jumpsuits, disguising which of them harbored Surus. The rest of the seats were empty. In the center of the cabin resided the large glass container of the Phant trap. Metallic disks were attached to the floor and ceiling of said container, and a small black box hung from the middle of the uppermost. Those disks provided the actual confinement field, and the thick glass was merely the framework that held them.
In the adjacent shuttle, Bourbonjack loaded up, along with several mercenaries and his own Centurions.
The ramps shut, the hangar bay vented, and the Dragonflies departed.
