Forge and Steel

by David VanDyke

  The Warthogs would be blasting in now, but it would take them at least an hour to get here. Until then, the Marines were on their own. Resistance wasn’t expected to be high, but the thought of a trap still hovered in the back of his mind.

  He switched to the external view and saw the sled angling in toward the base, which was outlined on the HUD or he’d never have spotted it. It looked like any other patch of asteroidal surface, except for the docked survey craft half-buried in it, as if its pointed fuselage had crashed into the base’s roof.

  “Is that...” he found himself saying as the survey ship began to wobble and stir. “It’s moving!” he yelled.

  “I see it,” Lock said through clenched teeth. “I’ll try to –”

  “Breach it!”

  “What?”

  “Don’t assault the base; assault the ship! There has to be a Meme aboard if it’s being piloted.”

  “It’s armored a lot more than the base. We might not get through.”

  “Try to hit it amidships. Fire a double round of breaching missiles. Tell the other First Platoon sled to do the same, right next to us.”

  “Roger wilco.”

  A quick check of the rest of the company showed the six sleds of Second, Third and Fourth platoons angling for the perimeter of the base to come in from all sides, according to plan. The enemy ship lifted slowly out of its living cradle. In a moment it would rise clear, hit its fusion engine and be gone.

  “Don’t let it get away!”

  “Doing what I can, sir,” Lock replied.

  The survey ship swelled in his HUD and Bull switched back to tactical mode. The collision alarm sounded and the interior lighting flashed red. Marines hugged their straps and clamped hands on their weapons. Bull felt the breaching missiles’ double launch, and four seconds later the sled’s impact slammed everyone sideways, harder than he’d ever felt in an assault. He heard the vehicle’s structure groan, and then Lock called, “We’re in, but the nose will only open halfway! Go!”

  “Lock and load!” Bull yelled, and Marines popped their restraints and chambered the first rounds on their pulse rifles. He tried to release his own webbing but found the fittings bent under the strain of holding his extra-large armor and self. He roared, exerting full cybernetic strength against the buckles, but they had been designed to hold, and hold they did.

  He felt the tension release suddenly, and he turned to see Reaper with a battle knife in her hand. Its marked molecular edge sliced easily through the rest of his straps, and he shook himself free. “Thanks.”

  “You should have done it yourself, sir. With your knife.”

  “Got it.” A bit embarrassing, for she was right.

  Getting loose fast didn’t turn out to matter; he had to wait patiently as his Marines exited one at a time through the half-open sled nose. When he finally made it in, he found himself in a surprisingly solid chamber, blank and featureless, but lacking any obvious threat. It looked more like something humans would build, rather than the usual Meme organic bladder.

  “Where you at, Gunny?” Bull said, not seeing the nose of the other sled poking from the wall as he expected.

  “We didn’t make it through the armor, boss,” the man replied. “We’re coming around for another try, but...”

  “Belay that. Tell your pilot to dock with the back end of our sled and file through. Bull out.”

  He turned back to the matter at hand. Designated Marines had finished setting two breaching frames in place, one at each end of the chamber, ovoids of explosive that would cut openings through the interior walls.

  “Ready and blow on my mark,” he said. “Three, two, one, mark.”

  The frames ripped holes through the walls. Marines threw incendiary grenades and charged through both breaches. Bull took the right-hand chamber, the one closest to the nose of the Meme ship and, theoretically, to its command center. His HUD showed Reaper at his back, a good feeling.

  Once through, he stared at another blank chamber, similar to the first. “Is this how it’s supposed to look?” he asked Reaper.

  “Not according to the briefings...or my experience.”

  “You’ve been aboard Meme ships?”

  “A couple. They’re usually cramped, wet and full of critters that keep the systems working.”

  “Shit. You think it’s a trap? Should we pull out?”

  “Don’t know, but we haven’t lost anyone yet and I don’t see any threat. Something weird’s going on, but...it’s your call.”

  Bull had never seen Reaper so uncertain. He licked his lips and checked with the Marines who’d gone through the other breach, finding they reported the same thing.

  Abruptly, he was overcome with a wave of dizziness and pain as light exploded behind his eyeballs.

  Chapter 3

  Bull felt himself lurch and flail, half-conscious.

  What happened? My suit...my stabilization system...

  He groped for his weapon, which hung on the end of its tether, and wrapped his hand around its grip. Looking around, he tried to find a target, but saw nothing but Marines in various states of distress.

  An opening irised in the living wall of the chamber and a figure dressed in what looked like yellow silk stepped through. Reflexively, he pointed his weapon at the thing and fired, but nothing happened. His pulse rifle seemed dead.

  Fortunately, the creature held no weapon. It raised its hands as if in surrender.

  Bull found his feet, noticing his armor seemed to mass a ton. He tried to call up his HUD and found that wasn’t working. In fact, none of the electronics in his armor or his cybernetics seemed to be functioning at all. He was moving two hundred kilos of suit with nothing but muscle power.

  Fortunately, he had a lot of muscle, and the gravplating seemed to be set low, though he knew that could change at any time.

  Somehow the Meme had knocked out all his systems. His gear should have been shielded to resist EMP, but apparently it hadn’t been enough. So, no enhanced strength, no comms, no sensors, no weapons.

  They were screwed.

  The creature, some kind of dark-green insectoid, seemed to be speaking. Its mouth parts moved, its thorax seemed to breathe and it was making gestures. Bull lumbered toward it, fumbling with the manual release on his faceplate so he could hear.

  Reaper stepped up beside him, her old PW5 pistol in her hand, primitive enough not to depend on electronics. Just good old-fashioned cordite shells powering high-velocity bullets. Bull made a mental note to add something like that to his ensemble.

  When he got his faceplate open he sniffed the air, finding it breathable, though with a taint that reminded him of offal and aging meat. The sound of the thing’s words came muffled to his heavily padded ears, so he took off the helmet and saw that Reaper was doing the same. Marines moved to surround the creature, ready to club it with their rifle butts.

  “Please do me no violence,” the thing said in passable English. “One of the Pure Race wishes to join you. Please do me no violence. One of the Pure Race wishes to join you. Please –”

  “Okay, we got it,” he said.

  “You’re a Blend, right?” Reaper interjected. “That’s why you’re wearing that yellow silk?”

  “I am a Blended One, yes. These clothings are the mark of my status.”

  “I thought Blends stayed on planets.”

  “In some rare cases we remain with the Pure Race in order to serve and minister to them.”

  Bull’s mind raced. “And you’re saying a Meme wants to defect?”

  “There is no defect in my master.”

  “No, no, defect means...it wants to switch sides in this war. To leave the Meme Empire and become part of Earth’s, um...”

  “Society,” Reaper piped up.

  “Correct.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I love and serve my master.”

  Bull turned to Reaper, who didn’t take her eyes off the man-sized bug. “What do you think?”

 
“I think when something’s too good to be true, it isn’t.”

  “But what if it is?”

  “Then I think your next promotion is guaranteed, young lieutenant. But I’d feel a lot better if all our electronics weren’t dead. We have no idea what’s going on with the rest of the company.”

  “True. Go back to the sled. See if everything’s knocked out there too. If not, get a SITREP on what’s going on and pick up some handcomms.”

  “Right.” She held out the PW5. “Better take off your gauntlet. I don’t think that sausage you call a finger will fit on the trigger otherwise.”

  “Not my fault you’re built like a scarecrow.” When he’d gotten the pistol settled in his fist, Reaper headed for the sled and Bull turned to the Blend. “Where is the Meme?”

  The creature gestured through the hole in the wall. “It waits through here.”

  “Tell it to come out.”

  “That will not be comfortable.”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck if it’s comfortable. I want to see it and I’m not poking my head in that hole. Not when all our systems are dead.”

  “Your systems might be restartable. The electromagnetic wave will not recur.”

  “You’re saying that was a one-use EMP?”

  “One use aboard this craft, yes. My master is clever. It built an unsanctioned copy.”

  “Copy of what?”

  “Of the sanctioned device, which can be recharged and used many times.”

  “Great. Don’t move. I’ll come back to you in a minute.” Bull initiated a diagnostic on his cybernetics first, but that failed. He then tried a hard reboot, pressing two separate places on his body, feeling for the contacts there. Simultaneous pressure should use a bioelectric charge to try to restart his systems in a positive cascade.

  That seemed to achieve nothing, so next he tried to reboot his integrated armor after manually resetting the surge protectors. The startup sequence began, so he moved on to his weapon, replacing the power cell and turning the simple device on. Its ready light lit.

  “Listen up!” he roared, hoping unaided voice power would carry to those nearby. “Reboot everything you can – internals, suits, weapons. Cybernetics may not be restorable. Pass it on!”

  His Marines began following his orders, so Bull turned back to the Blend. “You said your master built an unsanctioned copy of another device. Where is that other device?”

  “On the base below us.”

  Bull felt a cold lump in the pit of his stomach. He handed Reaper’s PW5 to Sergeant Acosta. “Watch this bug and stand by.” He pulled on his helmet and keyed his comlink as he began lumbering back toward the sled. “Reaper! Reaper!”

  No answer came, but Sergeant Brooks called out. “Sir, we’re getting suits and weapons back up, but internals are dead.”

  Bull replied. “Same for me. Our wetware is less robust, more delicate than our suits. Be glad we have weapons. Spread out and secure this ship. Everywhere but the hole where the Meme’s supposed to be.”

  He ran into Reaper near the sleds. She passed him a handcomm and he clipped it to his shoulder, and then he halted her and initiated a hard reboot on her armor, easier for a buddy to do. Once that began, he tapped her weapon. “Reset it!” he snapped.

  Reaper gave him a thumbs-up and then called through her open faceplate, “I got it working already. But we have bigger problems.” She waved him toward the sled. On the way, they met Gunny Kang disembarking with Third and Fourth Squads.

  Bull barked, “Gunny, did you get EMPed?”

  “No, sir. We hadn’t docked yet when it happened.”

  “Toda lecha Elohim.”

  “Thank God indeed,” Reaper echoed.

  Bull wondered where she’d picked up Hebrew. “Gunny, spread out, quarter and search. There’s an insectoid Blend that’s under guard and apparently a Meme behind him, and we’ve encountered no resistance, so don’t fire at anything that’s unarmed or nonthreatening. It looks like this Meme might be trying to defect. If you can’t reach me or Reaper, try alternate sled or handcomm channels.” He tapped the device.

  “Yes, sir.” Kang waved his squads forward, relaying instructions on the move.

  Once inside the sled, Reaper led Bull up to the cockpit. Lock and her copilot sat strapped into their crash chairs, hanging from the upper leaf of the four-petaled flower that formed the front of the sled. The low gravity made this only a slight inconvenience.

  Reaper grabbed a hard line and plugged it into Bull’s helmet, and then another into her own, linking them with the flight crew and sled systems. “The sled shielding is heavier, so we’re good,” she said. “The Warthogs should be fifty minutes out, with a squadron of light cruisers and frigates two hours behind them. But that’s not what concerns me. Warrant Officer Lockerbie, please tell Bull what you told me.”

  The pilot nodded, her brow furrowed. “First, the ship we’re on is moving away from the base and in the direction of our forces. Not too fast, though.”

  “That supports the Meme’s contention it’s trying to defect,” said Bull.

  “Yes. Second, there’s a low-power modulated widebeam laser painting us from the base. I’m pretty sure it’s an attempt to communicate, but I didn’t want to open comms before I got your say-so, in case it’s some kind of information attack.”

  “Have we reached the rest of the company? Or even the sleds?” Bull asked.

  “No, sir. The base is sending out wideband jamming on all radio freqs.”

  “Power emanations from the base? Our people? The vehicles?”

  “From what little I can detect, only Meme-style equipment. This sled has rudimentary sensors, but they should be able to see if our other sleds were live. They’re not. Infrared shows they’re cooling, too.”

  Reaper said, “The ‘sanctioned’ EMP device on the base must have been more powerful than the one that got us.”

  “Looks like it was a trap after all,” Bull replied.

  “Or a new defense.”

  “Why would they try out a new defense here all of a sudden?”

  “To keep that Meme from defecting?”

  “If they knew it wanted to defect, why let it aboard the ship? No,” Bull said heavily, “this was a trap. The defection is a wrinkle they didn’t expect.”

  Reaper sighed. “I’m forced to agree. Now what are you going to do about it, sir?”

  Bull gave her a sour look. “This isn’t the time for stump-the-lieutenant, Reaper.”

  “I’m not, sir. That was an honest question. We can’t get through to Captain Vaughn, so your platoon needs command direction from you.”

  “And you’re my senior enlisted advisor. So advise.”

  Reaper turned to stare at the cockpit instruments. “As I see it, we have two choices. Secure this Meme and keep going. We accomplish the mission, which was to capture a Meme. In fact, we’ve done even better than that. Apparently we have one that wants to cooperate. It’ll be an intelligence goldmine. Or...”

  “Or go back and try to get our people,” Lock said.

  Bull growled, “I bet they’re already dead – or at least, most of them. If the enemy was ready, they could have chopped them up like hamburger after the EMP killed their cybernetics, suits and weapons. Dammit.” He smashed one fist into the nearest bulkhead, causing it to shake. “Why wasn’t our shielding better?”

  “Weight and bulk, especially inside our own bodies. Everything’s a tradeoff, Bull. You know that. We’ve never had any indication of the Meme using EMP this way. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But no battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy. I should have –”

  Reaper slapped Bull on the shoulder. “You did everything you should have. Now what are your orders?”

  Bull chewed his lip. “Lock, accept the transmission. Relay it to the closest Fleet units on a laser and see what they make of it, along with an updated SITREP.”

  Lock nodded and tapped at the pad on her seat’s arm. “Accepting now. No mal
ware detected. Software is interpreting...trying to relay...our laser comms are down. Doesn’t surprise me; we’re three-quarters buried in this ship. Werner, see if you can run a line back to the other sled and establish comms.”

  “Roger that,” said her copilot as he unbuckled and began to do as Lock had instructed.

  On the shared channel, Bull heard an obviously synthesized voice say, EarthFleet unit commander, respond. EarthFleet unit commander, respond. EarthFleet unit commander...

  “Patch me in. Meme base, this is the EarthFleet commander. What do you want?” Ben Zonah! I’m really talking to a Meme...

  We want the Third in our trium returned to us. It is ours.

  “Yeah, and I want a tall cool blonde and a million bucks. How’s it feel to want?”

  We do not understand. Clarify.

  Bull exchanged glances with Lock and Reaper, breathed deeply, and then said, “I don’t intend to return your Third.”

  We offer the lives of your underlings in exchange for our Third and our ship. This bargain is to your advantage.

  Bull’s mind raced. Twenty-two Marines plus two flight crew per sled, times six sleds, plus the platoon leaders, platoon sergeants and the CO. One hundred fifty-two humans had assaulted the base. “How many do you offer?”

  One hundred fifty still live. Two have expired. You may have them all in return for our Third and our ship.

  Shockingly few casualties, Bull thought. “Stand by.” He waved at Lock to suspend transmission and said to his comrades. “They didn’t massacre them. Why not?”

  “Maybe they expected this Third to defect,” replied Lock. “They were ready.”

  Reaper shook her head. “No...if they had, they’d have simply prevented it from running. Locked the survey ship down. I think this was a trap from the start. They baited it with Meme, they used a new tactic and a device to disable but not kill the assault force...”

  Bull slapped a bulkhead. “They wanted prisoners. But why?”

  “Lots of possibilities,” said Reaper. “To blend with us. Brainwash us with biogenetic conditioning and use us against our own people. Study our cybernetics and weapons systems. Clone us and slip copies back as spies. Not to mention the morale hit EarthFleet would take if the entire complement of this mission mysteriously disappeared. Remember those big, empty rooms on the survey craft? That’s where we would have been held as the ship ran for the outlands to rendezvous with one of the bigger, more distant Meme bases or ships. But now,” she said, pointing a finger at Bull, “you have a decision to make.”