“That’s amazing,” Jim admitted. “What controls the upper limit?”
“Oh, a number of things,” Hoona said, his little hands constantly in motion. “The atmosphere is hard on many of our off-the-shelf components. Not many races can work in that kind of environment for a long time, either. We’ve experimented with robotics, but the native fauna is aggressive toward mechanicals more so than biologicals. There’s a Union Science Guild outpost on the far side of the continent experimenting with that, actually.” Hoona gave an almost Human shrug. “If we could get the collateral losses down, we could scale up even further.”
“Collateral losses?” Jim asked.
“Yes, we continue to hemorrhage credits from pilferage. A few million liters here, a few million liters there.” The translator sighed. “It’s never the same thing, and never from the same location. By the time we get to the pipelines showing the loss, it’s been capped and the miscreants are long gone. Well, I am pleased you are on station, and I hope we don’t have to call you. We have impressive static defenses on the processing plant here, which is why no one has tried us, but we like to keep a company like yours on point. The only time we needed the Jivool was when several of those blasted therapods broke into a vehicle park and were too stupid to get out.” The translator laughed. “Their meat was succulent though.”
Hoona bowed again and turned to leave.
“Administrator?” Jim asked.
“Yes, commander?”
“Could I get a copy of the planet’s maps with data on the thefts, as well as all habitations?”
“The only habitations are our facilities.”
“You mentioned the science station?” Ted reminded him.
“Oh, of course.” The little simian’s brown knitted in concentration. “I have asked my assistant to send it to you.” Jim thanked him, and Hoona left.
“It looked like he was taking a shit there for a second.”
“Pinplants, I suspect,” Jim said, tapping his skull.
“Ugh.” Ted blanched. “You’ll never drill holes in my head!” They went into Jim’s office and interfaced with the computer. As promised, there was a message from Hoona’s office with a series of highly-detailed maps, which Jim merged with the ones he already had. With that, he was able to find the science station and look up the details on the station using the GalNet.
“Tulip Indigenous Flora and Fauna Research Station One,” Ted read off.
“It probably sounds better in some other language,” Jim said. “But it’s still an interesting name.
“Why?”
“Who would name a station “Number One,” if there wasn’t a number two?”
“Oh, good point.”
Jim eventually called Alex in to help sort out the data. It was all layered on the same map, and neither Jim nor Ted could figure out how to view it separately.
“The computer treats the layers as individual maps,” he said and showed them how to separate the layers. They both shook their heads as he quickly moved stuff around. “Once I get pinplants, I’ll be doing this stuff in my sleep.” Both men were looking at him in horror. “What?”
“Lieutenant Pinot,” Jim said, “if you go drilling holes in your brain, I’m not paying some doctor to sort you out.”
“Old people,” Alex muttered.
“What the fuck was that?” Ted asked with a growl.
“I said I’m happy to help.” He exited quickly. Once they were alone, the two men examined the data.
“Well, look at that,” Jim said and pointed at several points.
“That is indeed interesting,” Ted agreed. “What are we going to do?”
“For now? Nothing. Let’s see what happens once we get settled in.”
“You know those raids mean no retention bonus, right?” Ted asked.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Most of the contracts they offered Humans were shit. And that explains why the Jivool wanted to GTFO so quickly. Tired of not getting that bonus. So, let’s get settled, establish watches, and look like we’re kicking back for the ride.”
“Then what?”
“Then…we’ll see.”
* * * * *
Cartwright’s Cavaliers - 9
Because the hydrogen-powered turbines in the Apoocas had difficulty with the atmosphere, their operations were limited, and the company engineer, Johnstone, struggled to get all four of the quadcopters modified for it. The Po’Kon APCs operated on similar hydrogen turbines, and they were likewise uncooperative.
While the engineers labored, the rest of the Cavaliers made themselves at home. They set up their barracks, got their new weapons out of storage, and started serious practice. There had been plenty of familiarization on the ship, but only limited range time. Now that they were planetside, Jim set about changing that.
“The Jivool didn’t even have a firing range,” Ted told him the first day. Jim got a bulldozer from Hoona on loan, and in an hour, had pushed up a berm. The range was open. Nobody was happier than Nina. She claimed the longer lanes for herself and the two other sniper-qualified troopers. Jim spent a little time getting used to the limited number of laser weapons he’d been able to buy, but mostly watched Nina play with her new toy.
“I think she’s in love,” Ted said. The former Coast Guardsman wasn’t much taller than an opSha at just over 5’2”—at least officially—and Nina had her dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail over her shoulder as she lay behind the most expensive portable weapon Jim had purchased.
“You getting it down?” Jim asked her. She glanced back at him and grinned.
“Watch this,” she said, and settled back behind the scope. She fiddled for a second and the gun gave a humming Snap! What looked like a plastic cartridge flew clear with a Ping, and she grinned back. Her spotter handed Jim the scope.
“How far is that?” he asked.
“Two kilometers.” The steel plate had a dozen holes in it, all either in the center or within an inch of the red circle painted in the center of the plate. One of those holes in the center was smoking.
“Fine shot,” he said. “How far out can you do that?” She looked at the optics and her face screwed up in concentration.
“In clear weather? Say 20 kilometers.”
“Fuck!” one of the men practicing nearby said.
“Keep up the good work,” Jim said, a predatory grin on his face. He met a few minutes later with the engineer.
“The high-pressure compressors aren’t working properly because of the chlorine content in the atmosphere,” Johnstone explained. He had one of the Apoocas’ engine compartments open with its components spread out on a table. Since Jim was only passingly familiar with how a turbine worked, the explanation didn’t do much for him.
“How long?”
Johnstone shared an animated conversation with his assistants. “A week?”
“You’ve got three days,” Jim said. On the evening of the third day, several very tired engineers stood watching as Slim sat in the pilot seat of the lead Apooca, Raptor 1, and spun up the craft’s pair of hydrogen turbines. The gunner’s seat, behind and to the left of his position, was empty. After a moment, he engaged the four blades until they were screaming at full power. It sat there for a minute, blades feathered while Slim examined the displays (which Johnstone had also modified from the original Krin configuration). He finally raised a thumb to the pair of ground controllers, who waved their wands in circles over their heads. Slim nodded, cowboy hat bobbing, and Raptor 1 rose smoothly into the air, nosed forward, and climbed away. A cheer went up from the assembled air crews.
He took the copter through a series of flight tests, adjusting the controls for the atmosphere and gravity. By the end of an hour he was doing flips and rolls that would make any normal helicopter pilot’s jaw drop off. He said it would suffice.
The Texan did the checkout flight on all four Apoocas himself. By the end he pronounced them sufficient.
“They’re smoking a little more than they did on
Earth,” he told Johnstone who scribbled some notes.
“We’ll tinker a bit with the combustion timers,” Johnstone said.
“For now, let’s get going with the planned sweep. Put a full nine-man squad in each flight for combat effectiveness. Have Nina or one of her snipers in there too. Have a T-Rex and a ‘Dillo on standby.” Everyone chuckled. The hover tanks had been designated T-Rex from the beginning. It just seemed natural for the heavily armed Chakooks. The APCs were harder. A bunch of names were bantered around until Slim yelled at Chris Smith, one of the Po’Kon drivers who’d left his parked in front of a hanger.
“Get that damned Armadillo out of my taxi space!” The name had stuck.
Jim, Ted, and Alex had generated an extremely complicated flight path series for the Apoocas to fly. There would be one in the air at all times. Jim hoped none of them broke; all were critical to meeting the schedule.
The second week of patrols at the 2nd shift change, Raptor 2 rolled out of the hanger with Slim at the controls, and Jim met it in full battle rattle. Ted jogged up and eyed his friend.
“And just where do you think you’re going, sir?”
“Patrol,” Jim said, checking his sidearm.
“How do you think it looks for the company commander to be flying around on a routine patrol?” Ted asked.
“Like the commander isn’t someone who would tell others to do what he himself wasn’t willing to do.”
“Then I’m coming too.”
“Belay that,” Jim said. “You’re in command while I’m gone. We both don’t go into the field at the same time unless it’s a high mobility issue.” Ted wasn’t happy, but Jim was the boss, so he stayed and watched from the ground as his friend and employer took to the air.
“Decided to get wet?” Nina asked over her headset from her seat. She’d seen him getting dressed and had taken the flight, even though she’d already flown that morning.
“Figured it was time,” he said. Once they were airborne, the troopers started to button up the craft. “No,” he said. “Let’s leave the doors open.” They looked at him for a second, then shrugged. He’d heard they were closing up so they didn’t have to wear masks, which was part of why he’d decided to take a flight. A short time later, it started to rain, like it did several times a day. The troopers in the crew compartment looked at the deck with dark expressions, but no one said anything.
A spotter was clipped into a harness on the port side and another on the starboard. The flight looped out on its assigned flight pattern, on average 300 kilometers out from the production facility, then looped back from a different direction. It seemed wasteful and time consuming to the troopers. What it was, though, was thorough. As they approached the end of the outbound leg, Jim stood and relieved the port trooper.
“If you want, sir,” the man said and unclipped from the door so Jim could take his place. The man had been a U.S. Air Force helicopter door gunner, and wasn’t used to his CO doing the crap jobs. Jim stood in the doorway, rain splattering him as he used the computerized optic goggles to scan the ground. He hadn’t picked this flight to accompany at random. He’d had a hunch.
“Slim!” he called out a minute later.
“What’s up, boss?’
“What grid reference are we?”
It was Slim’s gunner who responded. “Grid reference 10-Delta.”
“Uh huh,” Jim said, “Orbit starboard.”
“Nothing down there, sir,” the starboard observer said a little defensively.
“Coming around,” Slim said as the Apooca banked to starboard.
“Look there,” Jim said and pointed down. Several troopers leaned over to look, including Nina.
“That’s just one of them big dinosaurs,” the observer said.
“Yes, but really look at it.” Slim, hearing this, orbited the beast below, which took no notice of the craft several thousand feet above it.
“I don’t see anything,” the observer said. Nina had clipped a safety harness on and slid over on her belly so her huge weapon was half in, half out of the copter. She found the beast and looked at it for a long second, the barrel moving to follow it as their craft came around.
“Holy shit!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?” the other observer said. “You guys aren’t messing with me, are you?”
“No,” Jim said. “Look behind it.”
“Its tail is dragging in the undergrowth,” he said.
“Does even a dinosaur have a tail a mile long?”
“Wha—” he started, then moved the goggles several times. “I don’t believe it,” he said finally.
“That’s what I said,” Nina chided.
“You see it, Slim?”
“Yes sir. I can’t believe we missed it. Must have flown over that damn thing three times the last two days.”
“Four times,” Jim said, “but don’t worry about it. Can you backtrack?”
“Damn right I can,” the pilot said, “coming around, hang on.”
* * * * *
The Apooca’s wheels had just touched the tarmac when Jim jumped clear and trotted over to where his XO waited in a small ground car. As he walked, he looked around their bivouac area and saw all the tanks sitting at rest in various locations. He nodded. He climbed in the car, not surprised to see Jake, their close combat specialist, and one of his corporals there as well.
“Everything set?”
“Yes, sir,” Ted said as the doors closed, and the car sped away. “You know, there are a lot of ways this can go badly.”
“I don’t like being robbed,” Jim said through clenched jaws. His XO merely nodded as he drove. The drive only took a minute, then they were piling out at the administration building. Jim had been there once before, early on, when Administrator Hoona took him on a tour of the sprawling facility.
In the outer office, a pair of elSha were working on a huge Tri-V display of some machine, while a huge millipede held a slate and took notes. They’d seen a few of the Jeha around on Tulip. It wasn’t uncommon to find the Jeha on engineering projects. All the aliens looked up as the four Humans marched in.
“Hoona in there?” he asked the group.
“He is busy,” one of the elSha said, making a ‘go away’ gesture with its tail.
“Then he’s there,” Jim said and shoved the door open.
“Commander Cartwright!” Hoona jerked, and flipped a slate over on his desk so Jim wouldn’t see who or what was on it. “I’m afraid I’m very busy right now.”
“We found who’s stealing your chemicals and how.”
“That…is amazing.” The opSha didn’t sound amazed. If Jim was guessing correctly, based on their similar genomes, the little simian looked quite aggravated at this news. “What have you done about it?”
“Oh, as part of the loss prevention clause on our contract, we’re going to put a stop to it.” Jim noticed that the slate Hoona had flipped over wasn’t quite lying flat. He could see it was displaying a moving image.
“I see,” Hoona said. “And when are you going to do this?”
“We’ll be ready to push out in an hour. Just wanted to let you know.” He turned and headed out. The elSha and Jeha watched him and his men pass by. They weren’t yet back to the car when Jim’s headset squawked with Slim’s voice.
“Contacts! Multiple low flying craft from the east, coming in fast.” Jim keyed his mic.
“Cartwright Actual to all teams, here they come.”
* * * * *
Cartwright’s Cavaliers - 10
The eight high-speed skimmers came in low and fast, each one attacking a static defense control unit with pinpoint accuracy before screaming around in a high-G turn to seek their next targets, the Human tanks. At the same time, three APCs burst from the tree line 500 yards from the perimeter fence and accelerated toward them.
“Hit the gas!” Jim yelled. “I didn’t expect a reaction this fast.” As Ted accelerated, Jim slipped on his helmet an
d vest which had been in the back seat. He could hear the scream of the fusion-powered turbines in the five Chakooks as they went from idle to drive almost instantly. Turrets swung and guns came alive.
“T-Rex 1 requesting permission to engage!” Alison called over the com net.
“Cleared to fire,” Jim responded instantly. Three of the five Chakooks had been fitted with the MAC option. Their guns thrummed, and the air was rent with hypersonic cracks as they sent five 2cm tungsten projectiles per second downrange. Unlike the tanks on Earth, these main weapons were nimble and fully computer-controlled. By the time the enemy skimmers had come about from their attack on the static defenses, the Chakook MACs had swept all eight from the sky.
One slammed into the tarmac and skidded along in a shower of sparks, crashing into Jim’s car. “Shit!” he screamed as the shredded skimmer tore the front third off the car and sent the rest spinning like a top. He didn’t remember much for the next few seconds.
“Boss, boss!” He opened his eyes to see Ted’s less than handsome face a few inches away. “Damn, I thought I’d lost you there for a second.”
“Hardly,” Jim growled. He realized he was lying on the tarmac amidst metal, debris, and blood. “Who’s hit?”
“Jake,” Ted said and gestured with his head. The former Marine’s body leaned against the rear of the car, a metal rod through his chest, his eyes staring.
“Shit,” Jim said as several bullets bounced off and punched through the car.
“Shit is right,” Ted said. “Those APCs let out a bunch of rat things.”
Jim slid toward one side of their cover and glanced around. Several hundred creatures that did look like rats were running toward the base structures. They bore a resemblance to the Veetanho, but were much smaller. They all wore simple uniforms, and each carried a rifle. None appeared timid about using them either. The air was alive with flying projectiles
Alpha Contracts Page 7
