Mercs!

by Dorian Dawes

  Bluebird folded her arms over her chest and sniffed. “I will suffer this indignity but once.”

  Cyrus shrugged. “Still one more hitch. Jefferson here heard the whole thing.”

  “Oh, he won’t be any problem,” Nergal said.

  He retrieved a syringe from his coat pocket. He pulled Jefferson from Bluebird’s shoulders and had him pinned to the floor of the Scorpion. The needle was in the boy’s arm before anyone could stop him. It all took less than six seconds.

  Talisha yanked Nergal off the floor. “What is your damage?!” she shrieked.

  Bluebird snatched him from Talisha by his throat, lifting him off the ground. “What did you do to him, you green prick?”

  Nergal gasped, prying at her fingers in vain. “Let me loose, mad woman! It was only a sedative!” Bluebird released him. He coughed, falling to the floor next to Jefferson’s crumpled body, then looked up at her scowling face. “We can pretend we’re returning him to the bandits. It’s a great cover.”

  Bluebird reached down and helped him to his feet. “You think almost as quickly as you move, doctor.”

  Nergal rubbed his throat. “One has to be spry when so often they find themselves manhandled by their compatriots.”

  “Womanhandled,” Bluebird corrected with a smirk.

  Cyrus groaned. “So glad I don’t have a stomach. That joke was terrible.”

  “Focus!” Talisha barked. “Melanson’s Raiders will be on us soon. I don’t doubt we could whip these guys in a fight but I’d rather not risk it.”

  “It’s even more likely that at the first instance of trouble they’ll head into the woods. At that point the key will be lost to us,” Snidely added sorely. “This transaction must be delicate.”

  Chapter Four

  MELANSON’S RAIDERS HAD stopped to set up camp for the evening, erecting tents and watch-posts with lightning efficiency. A scout spotted the lone Scorpion several miles away from the camp. Melanson barked out orders, demanding all men ready to bear arms in case a group of desperate idiots were hoping to steal from the Raiders. The bandits accepted that explanation and hurried quickly to their posts.

  Melanson knew better. He had never seen a scorpion in person before, but he was part of the team that came up with their initial design. That was years before he’d been left abandoned on this hell-planet. Seeing that reminder of his past literally driving up to meet him sent shivers down his spine.

  His first thought was that the IGF had returned to the planet specifically for him. That was wishful thinking; they wouldn’t come back for him, and certainly weren’t the type to send in a lone scout. He’d been a part of enough incursions on hostile planets to know deployment policy involved a massive drop-ship full of tanks and infantry, and that was only after well-timed drone strikes had thoroughly laid out the welcome mat. There was no comforting explanation as to why a lone scorpion would be out here in the desert. He made sure his assault rifle was fully loaded, then locked an additional grenade into the harness strapped to his chest. When the hairs on the back of his hands prickled like this, it meant violence.

  Melanson was well-acquainted with violence—over a decade’s worth of service in the IGF military. He’d seen flesh melting off bone from laser cannons, crops withering under the effects of weaponized radiation, and he’d smashed his boot heel against the faces of violent uprisings. After that, he’d moved off the field and took his brilliant mind to engineering, where he drew up the blueprints to craft the ultimate weapons of war. It was little surprise that he’d take to life on Archimedes IV so voraciously. A lifetime of killing is never done.

  Melanson snagged a set of high-tech binoculars from one of his scouts as he journeyed to the edge of the camp. He zoomed in close to see three passengers disembark from the Scorpion. His mouth fell open when he saw the woman in the Valran armor among them.

  “Talisha Artul,” he sputtered. “Can’t be. She’s gotta be pushing sixty. What the hell is she doing out here?”

  That’s when he noticed the unconscious teenager being carried in her arms. Jefferson. He belted sharply to his snipers to lower their guns, then unleashed a string of curses under his breath. All this but a day after his deal with the Red Fleet left him jittery. He’d not the stamina for this kind of intrigue. He much preferred the simplicity of murder.

  The thin little man in the suit waved a white strip of cloth over his head as they approached, a meaningless gesture. Melanson smirked, hoisting his gun back over his shoulder. He folded his burly arms over his chest and watched the trio approaching the encampment. Now that he could get a better look at the woman’s face, he could see there was no way she could be the same Talisha Artul he’d known from his days in the IGF. She was much too young, and her features were harsher. This woman looked deadlier, meaner even.

  “Oi!” He bellowed. “You’ve got something that belongs to me!”

  Talisha nodded as she entered the camp. “He’s passed out cold. Had a bad run-in with a critter the night before.”

  “I knew a woman who wore that same armor, years ago.” Melanson took a thunderous step toward them. “Do you know a woman named Talisha Artul?”

  “That’s my name, but you probably knew my mother.”

  “Holy shit-balls, I’m getting old,” Melanson laughed heartily. “Please! Please! Come in!”

  He turned his back on them and marched into the center of camp. The closer they got to the woods, the more at peace he felt. Building the machines to survive the brutality of the trees had been his idea. Where others had seen only an impenetrable bastion of horror, he saw the only real shelter on this planet. Only way to be safe is to make yourself at home with the monsters.

  As he led them past a procession of powerful machinery put together from the scrap retrieved from the wasteland and ripped from other vehicles, pride swelled within him. He’d taken a couple terrified youngsters and some forgotten elderly and made them into an army. They’d found a way to take the hell on this planet and thrive.

  TALISHA HATED THAT she had to be the one to carry Jefferson. In the case of a fight breaking out, she could certainly drop the kid in a heartbeat, but a heartbeat can separate life and death. That fraction of time lost could get them all killed. Her pulse ran just a bit higher. This entire mission had been just that; control slipping steadily out of her fingers and building its way toward the ultimate clusterfuck.

  Her eyes scanned the camp. Melanson wasn’t an idiot. He was showing off. There was a bandit stationed by every spiderlike vehicle, and no doubt the wyverns were loaded and ready for takeoff at a moment’s notice. He was using this moment to intimidate her with his power. It was working.

  She felt the stares of each bandit and had to quell the hateful thoughts running through her head. She’d spent too much time around the IGF. All the language about bandits and refugees on backwater planets over the years had tainted her perspective. It was so easy to see these people as less than human, as nothing other than scum to be blasted away by her arm cannon. It was an unpleasant train of thinking, one that made her physically ill. She’d have to work better at keeping her prejudices in check. A bandit with a gun was just as likely to kill her as a guardsman.

  Melanson’s name seemed familiar to her, but only in the vaguest of memories. Her mother had been pretty tight-lipped about her encounters with the IGF. Talisha was still certain the name had been brought up elsewhere. Still, if this guy knew her mother, it might explain where the wyverns had come from. It also gave her a good cover story.

  Melanson led them to a large rust-colored tent in the center of the camp. He pulled open the flap and gestured inside, allowing them to walk past him. Talisha caught him staring at Jefferson with a glowering expression. Soon as he noticed, he broke once more into that fatherly, boisterous smile.

  “Give me the boy,” Melanson instructed.

  Once Jefferson was in his arms, he walked toward a small cot near the back of the tent and laid the boy gently down upon it, caressing the back of his hea
d. Nergal’s eyes narrowed.

  “He’s your son,” Nergal observed.

  Melanson’s shoulders lowered. He sighed. “Not quite. The boy’s father was very dear to me. I loved him. He died some time ago.”

  “Then he must be very precious to you,” Talisha said in a quiet voice.

  Melanson nodded. “He’s a good kid. Smarter than most would give him credit for. He just has a different way of being.”

  Nergal snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

  Melanson scowled. “Talisha. Who is your rude, green friend?”

  Talisha stepped forward. “These are my associates. I was investigating a rumor about Wyvern sightings on Archimedes IV. That’s IGF exclusive technology so there was worry they might have fallen into the hands of pirates.”

  “Interesting.” Melanson stroked his beard. “Your mother preferred to work alone, you know. Always hated when the IGF sent along a troop of guardsman. Felt like we’d get in her way. She might’ve been right, but it was always a privilege to watch her kill people. Woman made murder an art.”

  Talisha winced at that. “So you’re former IGF, I take it?”

  “Corporal Melanson, 3rd Battalion. Got a chance to work with your mother during the rebellion of Weyland Prime.”

  “How’d you wind up stranded on this rock?” Nergal asked.

  Melanson leaned in close. “About a decade ago, the IGF deployed here and I was part of that task force. We landed in the woods just behind us. I’m the only one who made it out alive.”

  “Who is this Mother that Jefferson keeps referring to?” Talisha pressed. “He said it’s where you got the wyverns.”

  “The wyverns were looted from the base of the drop-ship. The AI unit in the ship’s mainframe still works, no clue how. Didn’t take long for an entire cult to spring up around her. Figured these people needed some sort of hope, so I didn’t question it.”

  Snidely spoke up then. “What was the IGF doing out here?”

  Talisha could have strangled him. She tried not to show any signs of panic on her face but was certain Melanson had seen her eyes flash with fear and anger. That’d be all it took to convince him that she lied about working with these people. He knew a lone wolf when he saw it, and she was more similar to her mother than she cared to admit. He’d see that and see that she had lied about everything else. She should have made the entire party hide in the scorpion and handled this by herself.

  Melanson paused, licking his lips. He twiddled his thumbs, then pulled on the strap of his assault rifle. Talisha eyed his body language, her fingers tensing and readying to fire a shot from her arm cannon. She needed to relax. An itchy trigger finger would get them all killed.

  “Recon work mostly,” Melanson said in a careful voice. “Just because the planet’s outside jurisdiction doesn’t mean the IGF doesn’t deploy troops every so often to oversee the state of things. It’s always good to see potential threats to the sector if they crop up. But why are you lot really here?”

  “Pardon me?” Snidely said, stiffening.

  “Especially you,” Melanson glowered down at him, causing Snidely to gulp audibly. “Delicate hands you’ve got there. Fine suit, if a bit dusty from a few days travel on this planet. You strike me as a company man. If this Talisha’s anything like her mother, she hates your type even more than scum like me and that green thug over there.”

  “Snidely’s a representative of our employer,” Talisha’s voice came out in that perfect manner of apathetic irritation. It communicated a presence of low stakes.

  Melanson turned toward her, shoulders softening. “Is that so? Someone out there has an interest in the wyverns, is that it?”

  “They are top-of-the-line military technology,” Talisha said. “My client is hoping to salvage one to reverse-engineer the technology and sell it at a lofty profit. Dr. Nergal here is accompanying us as a guide on a hostile planet. He’s been quarantined here for years.”

  Melanson smiled. Talisha could have cheered. He bought it. He bought the whole damn thing.

  “Maybe we can cut a deal,” Melanson said. “Cut me in on some of the profits, and I’ll happily take you to see Mother. The blueprints to the wyverns are still in her database.”

  Talisha huffed. “What guarantee do I have you’re not leading us into the woods to get killed?”

  “People these days, so untrusting.” Melanson let out a chuckle. “Very well. I’ll let you borrow one of my tanks. It’s equipped with enough flamethrowers to keep the plants at bay.”

  “I’d also be interested in taking a look at one of those eight-legged horrors you’ve built,” Talisha said. Her love of mechanics took over for a second.

  Melanson snorted. “And let your people start selling those off too? No, the spyders belong to the Raiders alone.”

  “We would happily compensate you for the design, of course,” Snidely interjected, always the opportunist. He scratched his left hand absent-mindedly.

  Melanson shook his head. “I’m too sentimental. The spyders were Jack’s idea.”

  Nergal’s eyes drifted toward the boy. “Jack. That was the name of the boy’s father, yes?”

  “Aye.” Melanson’s eyes softened.

  “What did this man mean to you?” Nergal said. He stared into Melanson’s eyes, brow crinkling. He looked pained.

  Melanson turned to face Jefferson, stroking the boy’s hair idly. “There are those who make life less unbearable. When you’re down in the shitter, it’s hard to hate it ’cause you get to wake up every morning and be with them.” He turned back to face Nergal, stone-faced. “That’s who Jack was, satisfied?”

  “Satisfaction is for those who lack ambition,” Nergal said, mouth dry. “But your answer will suffice.”

  Nergal still had that faraway, wistful look on his face. His hands clenched into fists as he silently walked toward the entrance of the tent. Talisha contemplated whether or not she’d want to later ask him what the hell this was all about.

  Melanson folded his arms across his chest. He raised an incredulous brow. “And you said he’s a doctor?”

  Snidely scratched his left hand again. “He came highly recommended.”

  MELANSON SHOWED THEM to the tank. He held Jefferson up on his back with the boy’s arms wrapped securely around his neck. The kid was still out cold.

  The tank was your standard model used by the IGF military, though it’d been heavily modified to suit the needs of Melanson’s Raiders. Three sizable flamethrowers had been fixed to the sides to drive back the forest’s attacks. The front end was equipped with two saw-blades to clear a path before them. Each tread had been carefully aligned with mean-looking spikes capable of crushing anything beneath them.

  Talisha whistled as she climbed inside. Melanson laughed at her pestering questions about the various alterations to the vehicle’s design and inner workings. A lot of the tech-talk was well over Snidely’s head, and Nergal seemed far too wrapped in his own thoughts to care.

  The plan was that Melanson and a group of his Raiders would escort the tank into the woods, and then serve guard while Talisha investigated the wreckage of the IGF drop-ship. Everything was going well.

  Talisha hadn’t relaxed completely. The next few steps of the plan were their most dangerous. She’d left a comm-link with Cyrus and Bluebird and would signal them to steal into the camp to try and secure the key to the Valran temple. With Melanson’s forces split this way, he’d be cut off and unable to swiftly respond to an outside attack.

  She hadn’t bought Melanson’s story about the IGF investigating planets outside their jurisdiction. Hostile planets were sanctioned off by the IGF, denied resources and aid. Their hostile status was only ever revoked when the planet proved ripe for colonization.

  The IGF had specific plans for Archimedes IV. Talisha had a hunch it’d something to do with the Valran Temple. Part of her hoped that her foray into the drop-ship’s AI unit would net her a chance to see what the military database had on the Valran.

&nbs
p; She took a deep breath and took a moment to familiarize herself with the tank’s controls. Snidely watched through narrowed eyes as she fiddled with the knobs and levers and quickly picked up on what did what. By the time Melanson was leading them into the woods, she was driving the tank and operating its flamers as if she were an experienced pro.

  “You take to technology like a fish to water,” he mused. “Plymouth could use a woman of your talents full-time.”

  Talisha’s face wrinkled in disgust. “Uh…thanks?”

  Nergal turned to him sharply. “Could you not do that-that thing for five minutes?”

  “What thing?” Snidely looked genuinely confused. “What did I do?”

  Nergal leaned in close, his voice acidic. “Sometime I’ll have to tell you the circumstances that led to my unique condition.”

  Snidely blanched and turned away, scratching his hand feverishly. “Understood.”

  Talisha ignored the brief little spat and made a call to Bluebird and Cyrus. “Look alive, you two. We’re headed into the woods with a gathering of Melanson’s Raiders. Defenses will be split. I want you to scout out the camp and snag the key. Try the big tent at the center of the camp. Avoid getting spotted if you can, but if not, you know what to do.”

  Cyrus must have switched back over to Rogers sometime during the wait. No doubt he hadn’t been too keen on being stuffed in the trunk with Bluebird. “Loud and clear. We’ll wait a few moments longer for you to get a good distance away from the camp in case things go ape-shit.”

  Bluebird’s angry voice came hollering into the comm-line. “But not too much longer! I am ready to explode like biscuits in a can!”

  Talisha smiled. “Good luck. Both of you.”

  The procession of tanks and spyders smashed their way into the woods. Talisha kept her eyes fixed on the screens in front of her, each showing a camera feed from all sides of the vehicle. One monitor had a motion tracker installed, keeping her abreast of the other vehicles in the convoy, as well as any attacks from the nearby trees.