“No you wouldn’t. Rhys, may I call you Rhys? You do not strike me as a fool. How far into the Swordmaster rankings have you gotten? Because the way you talk shows understanding deeper than most men I come across.”
Now it was my turn to chuckle. The man did have a disarming nature about him. “I just the tests for the Third Tier before that last assignment, but I enjoy the philosophy courses. What is all this about, anyway?”
“Nothing in particular. I’m just a curious person is all," he replied so smoothly that I was inclined to believe him. "Did you know that despite being called a battalion the Specials only has nine squads right now? Not even a full company. I hear we might be getting some new additions soon,” Christoph got up. “Just a suggestion, take your leave on the Forge. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”
“What? Why?” I asked, but the dreg just smiled and walked away; leaving me wondering what the Hell just happened. Confused and annoyed I did what any respectable soldier with too much free time would do. I pulled out my com and dialed Haywire. “Hey Jimmy, you and Shot-put still going to meet me at the pub tonight?”
*****
“And that! That is why you can’t trust a parakeet to watch your gold.” Shot-put exclaimed before he slumped into unconsciousness. Haywire and I just laughed. John never was, and probably never will be, able to hold his liquor. Although he does tell the funniest, strangest stories before he passes out, none of them remotely true. We’d been exchanging stories about our fallen comrades, which just made the end of John’s tale all the stranger.
“What should we do with him?” Haywire asked me.
“I figured once we’re done here we’d just take him home and draw various embarrassing things on his face. That’s all I have right now. Not much, I know. You have any ideas?”
“Not at the moment. Something with cling-wrap and toilet paper maybe? We could always leave him half-naked on top of a building. But I’m sure we’ll come up with something after a few more drinks. So what’s this I hear about leave?”
“Oh, right. That. Yeah, starting Thursday we have two weeks of leave to spend here or on the Forge. I’m going to go to the Forge, I have a… hunch… something interesting might happen there.”
“And why would you think that? O mighty Captain?” He asked me. So I told him about my encounter with the Specials Captain on the hill. Drunk as he was, the best he could offer me was a “Wow, you should probably go to the Forge then.” I just smiled and patted him on the back.
He jerked up straight, eyes bright and wide. “What time is it?”
I checked my wristwatch. “Almost twenty hundred hours. Why?”
Ignoring me, he got the attention of the barkeep. “Hey! Turn to viewer to ESN3! The Mecha Series Final is about to start!”
“I still don’t understand why you love these games so much,” I said.
“It’s big! It’s fast! It’s like what we do but bigger and flashier and prettier!” He explained, suddenly much more animated but still slurring his words a little. “Using a machine that big, the way those pilots do has got to take all kinds of skill. I would love to have one of my own someday. Shush! It’s starting!”
I hadn’t even been talking, but I turned my attention to the screen anyway. It took me a minute to gather what was going on, exactly, but after that minute, I saw that the Tortoise team from Japan was facing off against the Falcon team from the Guardians' Idaho territory, the battlefield, a rocky radioactive desert in what was once western China. The viewer showed each team’s mecha in succession. The Falcon team was tall and spindly, each armed with the huge plasma swords known as beam sabers, and a stripped down beam rifle.
The Tortoise team provided stark contrast. Thick shelled and rounded, the bluish-green machines hoisted huge cylinders that could only be missile launchers. An assortment of knobs and bumps gave some evidence to other hidden weapons at the heavy contraptions’ disposal. They loomed over the Falcons’ machines by at least five meters.
Soon, the bell tolled. Almost immediately, the Falcon team took off. They were moving so fast they become blurs on the holo-viewer. The Tortoises jumped up as well, their boosters letting them hover at a slower but still appreciable speed. The heavier mecha started to take hits from the Falcons’ rifles, but the thick armor easily absorbed the energy from the shots.
The Tortoise team went into a circle formation and spun around, firing a few of their missiles. The Falcons easily evaded the offending projectiles. The spindly machines’ ridiculous velocity created afterimages on the recording with each movement. This give and take went on for several minutes, making it easy to see why both teams were in the final match.
Finally, one of the Falcons, painted a copper red, jumped up onto a Tortoise. It plunged its beam saber down at the mecha below it. The Tortoise shifted so that the blade only impaled his arm and part of the chest, instead of his head. A small cannon on the Tortoises back ‘shell’ fired from its locked position. The Falcon fell to the ground, completely perforated. The remaining Falcons seized upon the distraction and fell on one of the undamaged Tortoises.
Surprised, the man barely had any time to react, and failed to make use of that time. The mecha fell to the ground in three pieces. The Falcons split up their attack. One went after the damaged machine while the other attempted to distract the intact Tortoise.
The damaged mecha fired from a low yield particle cannon hidden in its chest, taking out the attacking Falcon’s whole left side. The Falcon crashed to the ground. Now outnumbered, the last Falcon took advantage of his vastly superior speed, and bolted.
Pushing his generator into overdrive, the Falcon darted in and out from between his opponents so fast he had inflicted a thousand tiny wounds upon them before they realized what was happening. In their hurry to take down this sudden menace, the Tortoises actually did more damage to each other than to their adversary.
If his saber had been at full power, then the match would have ended immediately, however, the needs of its overdrive mode made it so the beam saber could only maintain a half-meter long blade at full power. The Tortoise that was already damaged went down swiftly, taking a plasma blast to a section where the beam saber had cut it open. Seeping hydraulic fluid, the last Tortoise activated all his weapons in one final attack.
The disparate beams of energy and plasma converged with the launched rockets with devastating effect. However, when the smoke cleared, the last Falcon was still standing, albeit now on a glass stained plain. With a rush that now seemed slow by comparison of what went before, he rushed in and decapitated the mechanical body of his smoldering enemy.
“See! Now that is a sport!” My lieutenant yelled, drawing looks from all over the pub. My look was a bit worse than any of the other patrons though. I don't like drawing attention to myself. I blame the alcohol for the severity of the look I gave him, though. “No men grabbing each other awkwardly, just good old skill and explosions!”
“You shushed me.”
“Well you were distracting me from the big match!”
I laughed, as soused as I was (I didn’t stop drinking when the match started) I couldn’t think of a comeback, so I suggested we head back to the barracks. Between us we managed to lift Shot-put and stumble back to our beds, after putting him in some compromising situations. Not that bad of a day, albeit a much stranger one than usual.
4
May 23, 2289. Von Braun City, the Moon
I checked my watch and swore quietly, continuing my rush to the shuttle, leaping over luggage carts and unsuspecting children. Slamming into the boarding desk, I handed my pass to the attendant with a grunt as I slammed into her kiosk. She giggled and waved me forward. I gave her my most cocksure smile before climbing the ladder to the launch deck.
In an almost unprecedented show of unity, my whole squad decided to take their R&R on the Forge with me and, while our armor was already loaded on the shuttle, we weren’t fortunate enough to have said shuttle to ourselves.
“Shutt
le Flight 301 launching in 10 minutes, all passengers please find your seats and activate restraining devices,” came the automated announcement from the speakers on the deck.
Needless to say, I got onboard as fast as I could. It wouldn’t do to be left behind. My bag barely fit into the overhead storage. Curiously, my row was still empty. I had been told that the flight was full yet it seemed the other passengers had had second thoughts, or were even later than I was.
“Sleep in again, Rhys?” Jimmy’s voice was filled with mirth. “It’s a wonder you’re not still in California. Brother, can’t you ever be on time? Aren’t you the captain? Set an example, man!”
I looked behind my seat to see my whole squad already strapped in and grinning at me. “Remember that mission in Belarus? Were you on time? I got shot in the ass because you thought that was a good morning to sleep in!” I would normally have tried for an even more amusing comeback, but I was still tired from a sleepless night and a late start. Fortunately, late night or not, my reply still made the dregs grin even wider. I was a little slow this morning, but I still understood that they were just teasing me. I gave them the scowl they wanted before settling into my seat. Thank the Light I was sitting a few rows ahead with my back to them, so I wouldn’t have to put up with much more teasing until we landed. I closed my eyes and silently cursed the sleepless night that made me so tired.
Someone finally sat next to me but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I did however sigh, not for any particular reason, but I did it. Maybe I had started to think I would have the whole row to myself? However, that unconscious act let the person next to me know I was awake. From boredom, nervousness, or void-spawned insanity, they took it as a sign that they could talk to me.
“How can anyone sleep with all of that racket going on?” asked a sweet feminine voice to my left.
Still not opening my eyes I replied. “They can’t. They just do their best to tune out the morons. At least it isn’t as loud as a battlefield. I’ve slept on a few of those. Sure they’re louder but somehow more peaceful. The vibration from the explosions kind of just lures you to sleep. If you’re not too worried about dying. Heh”
“That is… a different perspective from what I usually hear.”
I finally cracked an eyelid. What I beheld was the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen in my twenty-some years of existence. Flame red hair, porcelain skin with a smattering of freckles, delicate perfectly proportioned features, and eyes as green and potentially stormy as the Mediterranean. My oh so trained eye also noticed that she was decked out in the grey, many-pocketed jumpsuit of the engineering corps, though she only had the patches of a technician instead of a full engineer. I blame my scattered brain for noticing those little details when I should have simply been awed into silence. Nothing on her ring finger, at least.
“I guess you spend too much time around engineers then. They might be smart but I haven’t seen too many with a proper appreciation for nearby deadly explosions.” I chuckled, and I am afraid that a good deal of my fatigue crept into that laugh. Looking back, I am actually quite grateful for the previously sleepless night, because the weariness that it engendered kept me from getting too excited about the gorgeous woman sitting next to me and doing or saying anything too terribly stupid. This has, unfortunately, been a problem in the past. As it was, I was thinking just slowly enough to “play it cool.”
“Then you must not know enough of the right engineers.”
“Touché. Well, Miss…?”
“Cartwright, um… Rachel Cartwright.”
“Well, Miss Cartwright, might I ask what’s bringing you out to the Forge?”
Still looking at her with that barely cracked eye, I saw her burst into a lovely smile that showed perfect teeth and made something inside me go all warm and squirmy.
“I’m transferring to an engineering bay where I can finish up my certification for mechanical and quantum engineering. Someday, I’ll be the one designing the armor that you thumpers wear.”
“In that case, I hope you know what you’re doing when you get to it,” a sudden and very obvious thought struck my addled brain. “Oh, right! Don’t want to be rude, do I? I’m Rhys.” I sat up, opened my other eye, and reached out a hand.
She took it and shook it. A… jolt? Like a tingle of pure energy. I guess that would be the best description for it. A jolt went up my arm when she touched my hand. I noticed dirt under her fingernails and grease on the sleeves of her jumpsuit. I had a good feeling about that. Who likes a prissy girl, anyway? I don’t think she noticed the effect she was having on me. An effect I was truly hoping was something other than hormones left over from puberty.
“Rhys… what?” She asked me with a sly smile. “Or do you think you’re famous enough that you don’t need a last name?”
I laughed, genuinely, I laughed. “Castle. You’re, uh, not going to start stalking me now, are you?” I was finally starting to wake up. I decided to open my eyes and actually engage her like I should have from the start.
“Only if you really want me to. I can just see it now, the Captain who saved the research base will be mine!” Again, that dazzling smile. I wondered if everyone she talked to got to see so many.
“Now how would you know about that? I was under the impression that whole debacle was still under wraps.”
“Oh please, anyone with network access knows about it. You’re the hero of the hour, Mr. Castle.”
“I would hardly call myself a hero. And I wasn’t even close to being the only one there. Half the survivors are behind us making that ruckus. If anything, my fellow Captain and his squad saved me and mine from the crush of numbers. Not that any of my Anvil guys would admit that.”
“But your squad held the beach while they got there! If you hadn’t done that then those beetles would have waltzed into the base and all that critical research would have been lost.”
“I just think you’re giving me too much credit is all. I don’t even know exactly what they were researching. You really got all that information on the net? The battle was only a week ago.”
And again, the smile, this one conspiratorial. “I’ll tell you a secret: I was on one of the teams that examined those tanks you fought. There was some interesting stuff in there… although I can’t talk about that just yet. Still classified and everything. You understand, right?”
“I’ve been around for a few years,” I grinned reassuringly. “I think I know what you’re getting at.”
“All passengers strap in.” The pilot ordered over the intercom. “The shuttle is about to launch and I would rather not spend my break scrubbing anyone off of the bulkheads. ETA to the Forge is approximately thirty-two minutes.”
“I guess that’s that, eh?” I said to her as I pulled my crash straps into their secure and ever so proper position. “So which engineering bay did you say you’re transferring to?”
*****
The Forge is an enormous construct positioned at a fairly gravitationally stable Lagrange point between the moon and the earth. The gigantic wheel consists of twelve huge blocks that house thousands of people, the academy, engineering facilities and the headquarters for the Guardians. In a hub central to all of the blocks are two particle cannons that are the big brothers to those onboard the Redeemer satellites. The only manmade thing in the system that’s larger is Jupiter station.
“That’s a piece of art that you’re looking at, Rhys,” Rachel said, stirring me from whatever reverie I was in. She gently placed one of her hands on my arm and pointed.
“It’s a good giant work of engineering, sure, but I don’t know if I’d call it art.”
“Of course it’s art, silly. Every block there is capable of supporting life. Each one has its own fusion generators. Six of those blocks house everyone that works or lives there, that’s over two hundred thousand people, Rhys. Two blocks contain hydroponics bays and livestock. Two others are construction blocks, if you look over there you can see a mark two Bastion-class battle cru
iser that’s almost complete. Then you have the academy block and the administrative block where the Sentinel lives. Twelve interconnected constructs so complex that each one requires a full team of engineers just for maintenance. Do you have any idea the delicate balance that has to be kept so everyone doesn’t die? How can you not call that art? All that life, moving, working, just plain living! In space no less! Maybe you should think about more than armor for once, Captain.”
“I actually have an apartment there, you know,” I said defensively. “Besides, I consider more things than power armor as art. Like comic books. Or video games. You have to love playing the hero. My favorite is Thor. Something about someone that hits bad guys with a hammer just gets on my good side. And the graphics and writing just keep getting better in both mediums. Better than real life sometimes.”
“You’re such a shallow nerd.”
“I guess you'll just have to teach me better,” I grinned, squeezing the hand that was still on my arm. A tremor went through the shuttle as it came up on its landing approach. “Must be a new pilot,” I said. Even with the inertial compensators active, you can usually feel it when a ship decelerates, but inexperienced pilots tend to make it a more jolting experience more often than not.
The shuttle passed through the purplish-pink cold plasma field that holds in atmosphere, and then touched down with another bump. The standard exiting instructions came on over the intercom, but I wasn’t listening. Instead, I helped Rachel with her things and grabbed my own pack.
The Guardians of Sol Page 3
