by M. D. Cooper
Minutes later, vibrations on the deck were the only sign that Adira had arrived.
Aboard the Trenton, the mechs had taken to using noise dampening pads to both reduce noise and to increase traction. Glancing up from the holo table, Captain Bergen looked at the leader of their ragtag group of fighters’ ground forces.
Colonel Adira cut an imposing presence on the bridge. With her three-toed mech battle legs, she came in at one hundred and ninety centimeters tall—equal in height to the captain. When wearing her backup legs, which appeared human-like, she was still an impressive one-eighty-eight. She was obviously in a battle mindset, as her battle legs cut the distance between them with powerful strides.
Her ebony hair brushed against the tops of her grey, synth-skinned shoulders, and Adira’s piercing green eyes gazed at the holotable data as she got caught up to speed.
“We will have to act soon, if we still want to intercept that frigate,” Captain Bergen said while turning to look back at the table. “This is the annoying fly that keeps circling our target. We need to swat it before we continue on to Ramstein.”
Adira was manipulating the holotable’s screens at a rapid pace. It appeared that she was calculating possibilities and discarding plans as fast as she thought of them. Freeing the captured crew on Ramstein base was their current goal. Bergen knew that Adira had been obsessing over this mission since they had lost their friends and comrades in arms—its importance followed closely by her plan of leaving this system far behind. The five years since the end of the Genevian/Nietzschean war had been tumultuous, and Bergen’s many hours spent planning with the colonel had highlighted Adira’s desire to leave the Nietzscheans in her past.
Calling up Caulter System’s dark layer map and overlaying it over the current action brought forward another possibility.
With a grey metallic finger, Adira pointed at the displayed map. “Our position on the edge of the system, along with the target vessel’s outbound trajectory, means that a nice fat pocket of mapped dark layer is between our ship and the frigate.”
Captain Bergen was already nodding his head in agreement, “I think I know exactly what you are planning, Colonel. Your dark layer ambushes make my navigators apoplectic and my gunners ecstatic.”
The predatory smile that spread across Adira’s face almost sent a shiver down Bergen’s spine. If he hadn’t fought beside her for years, she might have made him nervous. He knew that as calm and calculating as she was in planning, she was equally terrifying and vicious in combat. You didn’t become the leader of a battle-hardened group of soldiers and mechs by being anything less than a force of nature.
Bergen rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Bergen chuckled to himself and noticed that a few of the bridge crew were also wearing smiles. Adira’s troops had become legend in the surrounding systems—part of the reason they needed to leave—for sowing terror in the hearts of their enemies.
If this group of Niets wasn’t frightened by her verbal warning, their faces would sure be a sight to see when they realized that the bearer of the message was the thing of nightmares.
* * * * *
Adira located her trusted master sergeant on the network and sent a call to muster the command staff.
She was curious about the status of her upgraded helmet, and was anxious to know if it was ready for its terrifying debut on this mission. Having her own group of Mech R&D experts at her beck and call allowed her access to the most interesting upgrades. Being an experimental model SMI-3 herself, she had always enjoyed being on the cutting edge of new tech. Even if the path that led her there was filled with pain and loss.
Adira noted that the two members of the team she was looking for were currently arguing vehemently about molecular adhesion and advanced polymers. She had no reason to be concerned, since these spats often concluded with make-up sex between the husband and wife team. She did, however, have a meeting to get to.
“Sparks!” Adira interrupted the squabble. “It's almost game time, tell me the Mark IX is finally ready?”
Both of them jumped, and Sparks’ face reddened. “Of course, boss. Our daughter is putting the finishing touches on the artwork. It’s really going to blow your mind.”
His wife snickered behind her hand. The tiny pixie of a woman was the genius behind the upgrades in the synthetic muscle and mechanical skeletons of Adira’s fighting mechs. Those upgrades had been proving their worth on the battlefield, and the increased speed and strength were giving them a much needed edge.
“Hopefully the ‘blow your mind’ part is figurative,” Kelsey said while hopping off the workbench she had been sitting on. “We all remember the last time he tried to ‘upgrade’ your three-sixty vision.” Seeing Adira wince, she quickly moved to reassure her commanding officer, “I am sure we have all the bugs worked out this time.”
Sparks nodded his head in agreement, and Adira forced down a sigh. Sometimes being a test subject for her team’s experiments ended with a trip to the medbay. They knew better than to try anything new on a combat mission—she hoped.
“We can have Bri drop your helmet off in your gear locker. I am uploading the new device interface to your Link now,” Sparks said.
“I got it, thanks. Just do me a favor; no layering of auditory and olfactory stimuli over my vision. I felt like vomiting for a week.” Adira grimaced at the memory.
The concept had been interesting. Being able to pinpoint sources for smell and sound by visualizing the paths of scent particles and sound waves. The result had been a disorienting rainbow of stimuli that was nausea-inducing to say the least.
“We promise,” Sparks said with a believable amount of sincerity. “But when you get back from this one, we have some more melee weapons to show your team.”
“Sounds good. How did Bri and her friends do on the troopers’ new battle armor? Scary enough to match the mechs?” Adira asked with genuine curiosity.
Her mech company was already upgraded to the max, but her soldiers were still slowly getting their armor up to specs. Both operatively and decoratively. They had a reputation to live up to, after all.
“Oh, the troops are thrilled! We finished the ablative upgrades last week, and the platoon drone launchers are now standard on every suit. And of course, Bri and the other kids spent plenty of time with the paint and metalwork. Functional but terrifying.”
Kelsey practically glowed with pride. Her daughter was only seventeen, but Bri was one of the most talented artists their group had.
“Good, keep me updated with any issues. And keep your sticky fluids off my gear!” she finished with a smirk, as Sparks was already massaging his wife's back, their earlier fight apparently long-forgotten.
With a spin on her left leg, Adira left the blushing couple to their own devices and went to find Master Sergeant Jagger.
* * * * *
The command team was already assembled when Adira arrived. Rather than meeting around a conference table like a group of all-standard humans might, her group stood around a large, circular holotable. The mechs and soldiers alike would all stand, and ideas and plans would
be hashed out on the table. Ancient soldiers used sand tables to plan out battles, and good ideas never went out of vogue.
“Attention on deck!” the corporal at the door announced as Adira strode into the room.
Adira gave the mixed group a nod. “At ease. Thanks for getting here quickly. We have an attack to plan and not a lot of time to do it.” She looked to the other end of the table and made eye contact with her grizzled master sergeant.
Jagger was a large man, with scars crisscrossing his face. His grey eyes were always focused on his surroundings. This was a man who had spent his life in harm's way and seemed to anticipate changes in battles long before they were confirmed by data coming in. His experience kept the younger officers straight, and he had a good working relationship with both Colonel Adira and Major Wright.
“So, we finally getting to make a run at Ramstein, Colonel?” he asked out loud for the benefit of the larger group.
Assembled were four lieutenants, the colonel, two majors, and the three mech team leaders. All looked up expectantly at their commanding officer. Their loyalty and trust had been earned many times over on the battlefield over the past few years. Adira could see how much they wanted this mission.
“Affirmative. However,” she raised a stalling hand, before their grins could turn to celebration, “we have an annoying little pest buzzing around the base.” Adira saw that her group of leaders immediately stood straighter, knowing that she was going to lay the real intel on them.
“A Nietzschean frigate that goes by Gatekeeper—which is operating more like a pirate vessel than an imperial warship—is running back and forth to Ramstein with captured crews and ships. It is the only capital ship currently within 15 AU of the base. As you know, with the remains of Kallas Command’s bases currently on the far side of the local star, this part of the Caulter System is all but deserted. Our intel suggests that the isolation is what allows the frigate and Ramstein to operate a little outside of imperial norms.”
Adira pulled up a regional map on the holotable and highlighted both the base and the target frigate. “We don’t want to free our friends on Ramstein, only to have to fight our way out past that ship when we leave. So Captain Bergen and myself think that squashing this Niet bug first is a way to allow us to commit more of our forces to storming the Ramstein.” She could see the nods from her leadership around the table as she brought up a projection of the small cargo vessel.
“Turns out that we have a damsel in distress out there. We have already committed to stopping the Gatekeeper, but I want to hear some solid plans for how we are going to both rescue this vessel, and crush that ship. The first part of the plan involves us dropping out of the dark layer danger-close to the enemy.”
She saw solemn nods and a few grins. Her crew had become experts at this tactic in the past few years—more from necessity than choice.
“I imagine three boarding parties of soldiers and mechs, two for the frigate, and one for the cargo vessel. Now, give me some ideas for maximum effectiveness and speed; keep in mind we have to shut them down and then max burn toward Ramstein afterwards.” Adira wrapped up her briefing and swept her gaze across the group she’d assembled.
A credit to her command staff, no one just started throwing out random plans. All looked thoughtfully at the holotable, and several could be seen accessing their links to run possibilities offline. There were no showboats or big egos in this group of hardened warriors. They had all experienced too much loss to contemplate recklessly spending the lives of their fellow warriors.
One of her mech team leaders, an FR-2 named Vargas, had been speaking quietly with his lieutenant, and they were the first to come to a consensus.
“If I may, ma’am?” Vargas waited to receive a nod from Adira before going on. “Second Platoon and its attached mechs can take the cargo hauler. We figure that is going to be the smaller force. We will have to leave our three K1R-Ms at home since we don’t have enough lube to squeeze them through the bulkheads.” A small chuckle ran around the group. Even Colonel Adira allowed her lips to curl a touch.
“We do have three SMI-2s and one FR-2 that make up a fast and agile fireteam. They can push hard toward the main enemy threat. Squads one and two will move through the vessel, identifying Niet targets and eliminating them. Squad three will use one fireteam to maintain our egress point. The other two fireteams will split between the enemy access point and engineering.”
There was a pause as the group digested what Vargas had suggested. Jagger grunted and zoomed the holotable in on the cargo hauler. “OK, folks. That sounds like a good base plan, but let's talk about variables and a plan B for when things don’t go how we want. Also, that leaves the frigate to take down. Who wants a piece of that juicy steak?”
Major Bella cleared her throat. “I think that we need to consider a three-team approach to the Gatekeeper.” All eyes turned to her, but she was focused on the frigate’s holo image. “Based on our previous raids, we have kilometers’ worth of bulkheads on this vessel. We won’t have the time or the resources to clear the whole thing. I propose that first and third platoons hit the bridge and engineering. I would also like to take a handful of soldiers and a couple of mechs to make a run on the brig. If we are going to disable or destroy this ship out in the black, I don’t want to leave any poor saps in lockup. Core knows that the Niets would leave them there to feel vacuum if it meant saving themselves.”
Adira chimed in then. “Good thinking, Major. I agree with saving anyone we can. Keep in mind that we only have a fraction of our resources here. So let’s talk about loadouts, specialty weapons, and timelines.” She stopped to look at each of her leaders. “Remember, we are what they fear. Let’s make sure that we live up to our own hype.”
* * * * *
14 hours later…
Major Bella couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene she saw before her. Her soldiers and mechs were clustered in groups, ‘inspecting’ each others’ gear. In truth, she knew that they were eager to show off their new armor designs to anyone who would look.
Looking down at her own helmet, she tried to imagine the horror that it would inspire with its horns and glowing eyes. When combined with her armor, which had skulls and mythical beasts etched into it, the enemy would have to think twice about engaging with her troops. Bri and her other artistically inclined friends had spent months upgrading the soldiers’ armor.
Sergeant Monroe chuffed once.
* * * * *
Adira paced across the bridge, doing her best to maintain a professional calm, while Captain Bergen seemed lost in thought. The tightbeam transmission to the cargo hauler had to have been received hours prior, but they were waiting for a reply. Finally, the comms officer sat up straight in his chair.
“We have the reply!” he said while piping it through the audible systems.
“Trenton, this is the cargo ship Tempest. We have received your message. Yes, we do require assistance. By the time you receive this, we will probably be floating dead in the water. Per your directions, we are going to maintain course and increase to the speed you directed. The Tempest’s crew is putting our faith in your promise of aid. This pursuing frigate is much more than our crew of ten can handle. We will be anxiously awaiting your arrival. Following will be our access tokens to let you get aboard.”
Comms copied the access codes and passed them on to the tactical teams getting prepared in the shuttle bays.
Meanwhile, Bergen looked toward Adira.
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It was time to uncage her demons.
PROMISES KEPT
STELLAR DATE: 09.27.8949
LOCATION: Assault shuttle approaching the Tempest
REGION: Caulter System, Nietzschean Empire (Former Genevian Space)
Aboard the Trenton’s assault shuttle, the platoon that Sergeant Vargas and Lieutenant Barrow had brought to take the Tempest were performing gear checks. Second Platoon was battle-hardened from both the Nietzschean/Genevian war and the rebel fighting in the years following. A platoon of newer warriors might have spent more time bolstering themselves with false bravado; these soldiers and mechs were instead spending their time on inner reflection.
Vargas could almost see them transforming to take on the persona of the demons their armor depicted. With deep breaths bordering on growls, they prepared to breach the first airlock and flood the Tempest.
Glancing to the back of the assault shuttle, he saw the black and grey armor of Colonel Adira. Her new helmet held three levels of upward curving horns, along with three sets of eyes stacked on top of each other. The green light that glowed in the depths of those eyes appeared malicious. Her new, shorter barreled GNR-41K that was attached to her left arm was better suited for shipboard operation. She was a vision of death, and he pitied those who would fall before her.
The shuttle pilot chimed in and interrupted his musing.
Following his pronouncement, all the troops banged their fists on their breastplates twice.