by B. V. Larson
I decided right then and there to put a note into the suggestion box back at Central concerning this armor. In my opinion, they needed to put more padding under the outer layer. Sure, it couldn’t be penetrated, but you still felt it when you got hit. Anyone who doubts me could try putting on a suit and having some folks try to beat them to death with hammers. That’s what it felt like to be shot over and over again.
By this time all the lizards were in close, and the fighting was right in the midst of our star-falls. More humans were arriving as well—but the enemy ignored them. They were busy destroying our artillery.
All of them were, that was, except for two reptiles that seemed hell-bent on killing me. Maybe I’d stepped on someone’s tail, I don’t know. I’ve discovered over the years that aliens often seemed to take a powerful dislike to old McGill. Go figure.
One of the saurians held me down, and the other tried to kill me with a gun, a knife, then a force-blade. They even set off a grenade under my back.
This last effort cracked my lower spine, I’m pretty sure. I writhed weakly in agony on sand that had been transformed into crunchy glass.
Using the last bit of brain-power I had left, I forced myself to lie still. After all, any sane person would believe I was dead. Playing opossum wasn’t even a stretch, as I felt like death warmed-over by now.
One of the saurians leaned close. His big nostrils flared. His snake-eyes examined me, cocking his head to look at me first with the left eye, then the right. He fingered my armor and said something hissy to the other fella.
I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I drove my blade into his right eye-socket, and a gush of nastiness flowed out.
Seeing this, the second lizard lost his nerve and fled—but he ran right into a squad of nine heavy troopers in armor. Fike and his people had finally arrived in force. They cut the last of the saurians down, and thirty seconds later all of the enemy were dead.
Deciding I liked where I was, I stayed low and spent my time trying to breathe. I had some broken ribs, maybe a few cracked vertebrae… It wasn’t anything I hadn’t felt before, but I wasn’t excited at the prospect of standing up right then.
Finally, a familiar voice came near. It was Sub-Tribune Fike himself.
“…what an unholy mess,” he said to one of his butt-boy aides. “This is a shit-storm of amazing proportions. Only McGill could—oh, there he is.”
Boots crunched nearby.
“Looks like they fought to the death, sir,” said the young adjunct at his side.
“Yeah, well, they failed. More than seventy percent of our star-falls were destroyed. We’re not allowed to call back to Earth for more equipment, you know that, right? This is a disaster.”
“What should I do with McGill, sir?”
“Strip off that armor and recycle him. I’ll phone home in the meantime.”
The adjunct came near, and he began to tug at me. I decided I’d played opossum long enough.
“Hey there, Adjunct.”
“Whoa! Holy shit—you’re alive, Centurion?”
“Last I checked. Help me up.”
The man did so, and I tried not to show how much it hurt. I leaned on a wrecked star-fall and tried to look nonchalant. I didn’t think I could walk on my own, but sometimes that feeling would pass if you gave it a few minutes.
“McGill?” Fike said in disbelief. He crunched closer to me and peered up into my faceplate. “Are you okay, man?”
“Right as rain, sir.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be damned. Too bad you survived. I’d trade your carcass for one more star-fall.”
“You’re all heart, Tribune.”
Fike ignored me and went back to cataloging the damage. I watched him go, and when he was out of sight I began to limp toward the grounded lifters.
The adjunct fell into step beside me. His helmet said his name was Clane. “You’re wearing that new armor, right?” he asked me.
“Bingo, son. Give me a hand, will you?”
Clane threw a shoulder under me, and I limped faster.
“You’d better not let Fike or one of his bio goons see you like this, Centurion,” the adjunct advised. “He’ll recycle you for sure.”
“Don’t I know it... Hey, that’s one of my dead medics. Get me to his bag.”
The medic was Carlos, and he was in three pieces. I searched the biggest chunk that was left of him and found a satchel. A few minutes later, I had my chest piece off. I was spraying on salves and injecting myself with stimulants. My cheeks reddened as my blood-pressure increased.
“That’s better… I can breathe now.”
Adjunct Clane whistled. “You’ve got some big bruises… looks like you’ve been playing the part of a punching bag.”
I looked at the kid for the first time. I kind of liked him. “Where are you from, soldier?”
“Texas, sir.”
“You mean Texas Sector?”
“I guess so…”
I smiled. The folks from Texas had never completely given up on the idea they were something special. “Listen up, if you ever want to fight in a real legion, give me a text. You can die in style with Varus. I’ll see to it.”
The kid blinked a few times, but then he smiled. “Thanks, sir. My parents got me this position to prevent exactly that kind of scenario—but I might take you up on it someday.”
Clane walked away, and I put my armor back on my sore body, easing it down over the injuries. I didn’t want anyone else to see how banged up I really was.
After a cocktail of drugs and few minutes to stretch a bit, I was able to walk almost normally. It was time to take stock of things.
The first thing I did was a headcount. I had a grand total of thirty-five living troops left in my entire unit. Almost all of them were out hugging rocks with Leeson and Winslade. After making some harsh judgments, I shot two of the wounded and patched up the last one who was still with me—it was Della.
“I’m surprised Cooper didn’t make it,” I said.
“We moved around behind the enemy when they engaged the rest of 3rd unit,” she told me. “When the enemy charged the star-falls, we attacked from behind, killing one straggler at a time.”
“Good work… for a ghost.”
“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” she said with a hint of defensiveness in her tone. Most of the legionnaires didn’t really like ghosts. Sure, they were skilled and vital to the unit. They did recon work no one else could, but they always seemed like dirty killers to the rest of us. Mostly, they snuck around and knifed unsuspecting enemies. They were assassins, not soldiers.
“Damned straight it is,” I said, agreeing with her heartily. “A kill is a kill!”
Della gave me a grateful smile. “Anyway, we were stealthed, but Cooper got between a lizard and the star-falls. He caught a stray round and perished. After that, I was careful to stay behind the last saurian in their ranks.”
“Well done. I’ll report in to Winslade while we march back to our position in those damned rocks.”
She vanished again, but I knew she was nearby. I could see her small footprints puffing into existence off to my left.
“Winslade? This is Centurion McGill reporting, sir.”
“McGill?” he called back a few seconds later. “How did you get a priority revive?”
“Uh… I didn’t, sir. I never died.”
“What? I thought it was a wipe-out… Oh yes, that armor I made for you. Pretty effective, yes?”
“It is that, sir. I’d only make one request: add some more padding on the interior. I got banged up like a rat caught inside a clothes dryer.”
“Hmm… You’ll have to pass that on to Central personally. I’m off the project.”
“Right, sir. Where do you want to post my unit?”
“First, what happened to the combat drones? I don’t see them in your vicinity.”
“Uh…” I said, looking off toward the dome city. I saw a curling column of black smoke rising from the
center of the place, but there was no sign of Helsa and her minions. “I kind of forgot about all that in the excitement.”
“You what? Those machines are your charges, McGill. Turn right around and head into the town. Find Helsa, and bring her to heel.”
“Uh… that’s a tall order, Primus.”
“Then you’d better get cracking.”
The channel closed, and I cursed. Della’s empty footprints came near.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ve got to find out where Helsa went.”
“Oh… I wouldn’t think you’d mind that order.”
There she was, getting slightly jealous over nothing. That was typical for Della. Every once in a while, we had fling, but it never lasted. We’d even had a kid together once, my daughter Etta. But she always took off again before too much time had passed.
Still, despite all that, she didn’t like me orbiting another female. Talk about frustrating… I felt my heart beginning to pound in irritation, and I opened my big mouth to say something rude.
But I stopped myself. She and I were the last living members of my fateful charge. There was no sense in having an argument now. Besides, I suspected it was the pain in my ribs and the medications in my bloodstream that were making me feel a little ornery.
Forcing a smile, I looked to where I knew she was.
“Listen-up, Della,” I said. “I’ve got a plan…”
-54-
I marched into that dusty, smoking little town as bold as you please. The happy-juice I’d shot into my arm helped with that—but mostly, it was just my natural swagger.
Shopkeepers, citizens and the like scattered before me. I couldn’t blame them for fleeing. After all, I was an armed alien in black armor, and they’d just had a small army of saurians appear in their midst and tear the place up.
Walking across the town, I soon found the trouble-spot. In the dead center of the camp was the dome they kept their drones in. I recognized the area, if not the dome itself, as it had been knocked flat.
“Huh…” I said to Della, putting my big hands on my hips and surveying the damage. “Good thing the combat drones weren’t here, right?”
Della was there at my side, of course, but she had the good sense not to answer. She was, after all, my insurance policy.
The few citizens who’d had the balls to follow me didn’t respond either. They didn’t wear universal translators, and I don’t think they were terribly interested in my opinions anyways. I got the feeling they were trying to figure out how to kill me and get away with it.
The dome beside the flattened one was the seat of Shadowlander government. There was some damage here as well. The eastern side was scorched and kind of crispy.
I stepped up to the front doors and threw them wide. Inside, a team of aliens were huddling and whispering.
These guys always looked like they were planning to do a man harm. They were leaning close together, but the second I appeared they said a few more inaudible things then melted away.
In the center of the huddle was Kattra. I could tell right off she wasn’t a happy camper.
“McGill…” she said, as if she was cursing the sun or something. “What gives you the right to barge into my town again? I thought we had an arrangement. You stay outside our city and protect it. We don’t want to see you here—none of your kind are welcome!”
“No? Well now, that’s a crying shame.”
I walked in and made myself at home. The queen-lady and her crowd of councilors glared malevolently.
“Listen Kattra, I’m here to check up on you. We saw the smoke and all, and we got worried. The top brass of my legion ordered me to find out what’s what.”
“They could have simply called.”
“They probably have been, but I don’t think you’ve been answering.”
Kattra glanced down at her tapper, which was indeed brimming with unanswered messages.
“We’ve been attacked, and we repelled the invaders at great cost. Your job was to protect us from precisely this kind of event. From my perspective, you Earthmen failed completely.”
“Yeah, well… you can’t go to war without expecting to take a few casualties. I’m sure the damage is nothing your revival machines can’t handle.”
The swarm of sycophants behind her shuffled about angrily at that. They made a few outraged bleating sounds. I didn’t know what they were saying, but I passed on turning on my translator because I already knew I didn’t care to hear their comments.
“You continue to make jokes at our expense, I see,” Kattra said. “I should expect nothing else. Humans naturally heap insults following grave injuries.”
I frowned. “Uh… Did I miss something? I mean, you got a few of your domes knocked down and all, I get that. But your combat drones are mostly intact, right?”
“That doesn’t begin to describe our losses. The enemy saurians came here to do us grievous harm. They partially succeeded.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked while looking around curiously. “What did they do?”
“You truly don’t know? Your spies are everywhere, so I assumed—but no matter. The saurians teleported into the middle of our town.”
“I got that much.”
“Once here, they attacked the dome where we keep our combat drones first, destroying it. Obviously, they knew where to strike.”
Kattra looked at me suspiciously. Right then, I got the idea that she thought I might have tipped them off. That was a rude assumption on her part, but I guess I could understand it.
“Next,” she said after I made no reply, “they moved toward our production facilities.”
“You mean they wrecked your revival machines?”
“No. It was much worse than that. They damaged the equipment we use to build revival machines.”
“Uh-oh… shit-fire, that’s bad!”
“Yes, it is. It was a critical strike landed at a weak point to do maximal damage. They attempted to cripple us by destroying the very basis of this planet’s economic livelihood. Only true barbarians would do such a thing.”
I kept quiet, thinking of a half-dozen races that might do exactly that—including Earthmen. There was no point telling her about all that, however, as she’d probably figure it out on her own in good time.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“You can slay these monsters!” she said. She stood tall and spoke with feeling. “They must not be allowed to make another attempt. The first wave lost their harnesses when they attacked and died—but not all of them were lost. Many of the devices were programmed to return, and hundreds did so, even if their owner was nothing but a corpse.”
I nodded at that. It made sense. These teleport rigs often had timed recalls on them. I remembered that Natasha had been whisked away by just such a timed trap when it went off on the very first teleport suit we ever found.
“We do plan on defeating Armel, if that’s any consolation.”
“It is no comfort at all.”
“Right… well, you should know that he hit us pretty hard, too.” I proceeded to explain that Armel’s troops had overwhelmed our defenses and destroyed most of our star-falls.
Kattra was aghast. “Those artillery pieces are irreplaceable.”
“That’s right.”
“And you were using them to great effect to hold back the enemy hordes.”
“Hmm… yes. The next time, they’ll probably be able to get in closer.”
Kattra began striding around on her carpet, thinking hard. “They’ll come back. I’ve placed Helsa and her remaining drone force on guard duty at the manufactory, but another suicidal attack can’t save our equipment. Not completely. If we suffer much more loss, we won’t be able to grow another revival machine.”
“Can’t you just save the blue prints or something?”
She laughed at me. “The creation of each revival machine is as much an art as it is a feat of engineering. The core components of our machines are grown organical
ly. We do tack on an electromechanical control system, but the plans for such details aren’t unique.”
“Great… well… I’ve got an idea that might help. That’s why I came here.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What idea?”
“How about we strike the next blow before they do? How about we take the fight to them, before they regroup and hit us again?”
Kattra’s eyes slid around in thought. “I like your idea. How can it be done?”
I grinned. She was a bloodthirsty one all right. She’d just been given a black-eye, but instead of crying about it she was already dreaming of revenge. That was the kind of woman I could sink my teeth into—figuratively speaking, of course.
Turning to my left, I snapped my fingers. Della dutifully appeared out of thin air.
The delegation of suck-ups hissed and carried on. Kattra, however, eyed Della thoughtfully.
“We have specialists like Della, here. We call them ghosts. We also captured maybe a hundred or so of the teleport harnesses that Armel’s troops left behind when they ported away. Not all of them escaped or returned their dead masters to headquarters.”
“So what?” Kattra asked. “Where will you go with these captured harnesses—assuming you can operate them at all?”
I smiled—no, I grinned. I grinned widely.
“Remember how they work? They’re set to automatically return home. That means every control chip on every one of those harnesses has the destination coordinates of the enemy base recorded inside. Surely, one or more of these rigs can be hacked to give up that vital information.”
Kattra stood suddenly. The gaggle of wimps that surrounded her shuffled back instinctively. I got the feeling she might stab any of them that pissed her off, and that she’d done so randomly in the past. I couldn’t say that I blamed her on that score.
“I like how you think, human. You’re not intelligent, but you have the cunning of a predator in the night. I will take this idea—and you, with your stealth suits and impenetrable armor—you will aid us?”
I nodded, and I kept on grinning. “I’m down for some revenge myself. I owe old Armel and his gang a kick in the pants for sure.”