Control called out in a tone of silky controlled violence. “Mr. Kilmartin! You were to give a SITREP before issuing an unlock code for the OWL. This Kangal is an expensive piece of kit to just...”
Kilmartin killed her feed, instead focusing on the words floating by the bottom of his HUD.
>>>>INCOMING KANGAL MECH.
>>>>TIME TO TARGET: 30 SECONDS.
>>>>THIS IS A DANGER CLOSE DEPLOYMENT.
>>>>WILL THIS BE A HOT DROP?
Kilmartin screamed, “Yes!” into the net, not bothering to wait for a reply from the system. He sent two shots into another of the androids, dropping it in a shower of sparks and resicarbon. He flew to the quartet that had taken down the first bot, only to realize that they were now a trio with him included. The group became a fire team, working the with rest of the survivors holed up beside the stream. They set down interlocking fields of fire, driving the two remaining bots back to the structure. Blaster bolts sailed about the log cabin, scoring the wood with heavy blackened gouges. Some spots caught fire, but the logs must have been sealed with modern chemicals that prevented the fire from catching.
Two large bots, easily three meters tall, were escorting a woman wrapped in a long fur-lined cloak. Her hood was up and she was continually trying to hold it tight in hopes of keeping blaster fire away. Kilmartin surmised that it might even be blaster resistant. That’s when he saw the other woman.
She came out of the cabin causally, with no more thought than leaving to go on an evening walk. Two bolts sailed in, deflected by a skin tight energy shield. The woman's armor was shades of ashen sand with light gray accents. It was crafted of skin tight myoprene with heavy armor plating on the abdomen and shoulders. Her tattered red cloak caught the blaster shine that reflected off of the water. Even in the moonlight, they could see a logo of sleek wings extending from an owl's head over three horizontal lines. Her carbine rifle resembled a modified version of the Core Worlds M-721. She took a single shot during her stroll to cover, spinning Kilmartin into a corkscrew dive for the ground.
Damage alarms were going off in his helmet. A quick check showed his armor held but his shoulder felt like it had been hit by a charging rhinosaur. Whatever the merc was packing, it was shooting a hyper-kinetic variant of the standard blaster bolt. Regular blasters usually drew in enough particulate matter from its surroundings to give an energy bolt mass enough to strike a target with kinetic energy. This thing was firing heavy bolts that hit like a slug thrower. As Kimartin lay in the snow contemplating whether or not he could get his arm to work, a snap crack echoed above him. Looking into the HUD, he saw Kwon’s icon disappear. Great. Seems they also had a sniper. This night was getting better by the minute. Just as he was about to declare he was done with this whole affair and go home, a rocketed explosion struck the stream, sending gouts of the landscape in all directions.
>>>>KANGAL MECH ON STATION. DECLARE TARGETS.
The Tiger commander pinged his enemies on the HUD. “Now we’re talking!”
Two
“Lucy. Juicy. Come to the side door near the decoy shed. I’m bringing the package now.” Madame Tarot’s voice left the speakers in her helmet with digital grit. It was clear it was a woman’s voice, but the timbre had been dropped to the floor and given the effect of electronic sandpaper. The tone of her voice made it seem like growling was her default setting.
“Right away, Madame,” said one of the Cards.
Her team were all named after cards of the Deck Arkana, the mystic tarot of Old Sol. She couldn’t say if there were any validity to the stories, but hucksters had been using them for generations to tell men’s fortunes. Whether it actually worked was up to the person receiving the mystical insight. Despite whatever the charlatans might say, the Card Arkana, the androids of her Black Tasker unit, were some of the best ‘people’ she had ever worked with.
“Madame.” The voice was plain and smooth, like vanilla ice cream on a warm day.
“Yes, Temperance?”
“We have what appears to be a Kangal mech being dropped by orbital platform. Should I have Clutch target the ship with his weapons?”
“Negative.”
Temperance continued, ”Morpheous is also free to...”
“Belay that. Do not attempt any hack of the enemy AI. It has complex ICE that will fry his brain. Do you have a fix on Romeo?”
“Yes, Madame. Romeo is down. Should we attempt a physical recovery?”
“No,” Tarot cut the bot off. “Have Morpheus recover him by remote. We can reload him once we are safely in the black. Is Jester set?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“We’re coming out.” Tarot walked behind the principal, covering her in the blaster resistant cloak they always used when moving her. Lucifer and Justice, her heavy infantry bots, were just outside the door in flanking positions. They would easily take any incoming blaster fire, shielding their charge from harm. “To the ship please, boys.”
“Yes, Madame.” The two strikers walked in a semi-hunched-over posture. Any incoming bolts would have to get through fifty millimeters of hardened duradium before they ever reached their target. Despite their size, they moved with a feline grace and a canine’s sense of purpose.
Madame Tarot allowed her boys to get a bit of distance from the cabin to coax all rifles at them. She spun on her heel once she was out the door, giving her partial cover against the building. She flipped her cloak over her shoulder, exposing her armor and all the weapons she had at her disposal. Two shots from the enemy were deflected at the last second by a skintight energy weave that reflected the bolts in new directions. The shield wasn't perfect, ablating most, but not all of the force, letting her taste the near death experience of twin blaster bolts slamming into her without all the bitter aftereffects of being dead. Bringing her M-721-X hybrid blaster carbine to her shoulder, the helmet targeting matrix sent instructions through the myo-fiber strands in her armor assisting her muscles. A single trigger pull cleared the weapon’s throat. The bolt slammed home, knocking down the enemy commander in a spiral that would have been the envy of any murder ball match on the Rhusk home world.
“Madame, you have a combatant leveraging a shot against you on your one o’clock,” Temperance said over the radio.
“Take him.”
The shot rang out, tearing a gaping hole in the man’s upper left chest, separating the struts from the frame and pounding him into the powder. A splash of blood turned the snow red reminiscent of a tie-died pattern from Old Sol. Temperance took note of how the blood splashing made streaks that seemed pleasing to the eye, despite the gruesome nature of the paint. “Beautiful,” Temperance came over the net. “Madame, heavy drop, now.”
The Kangal Mech fired its jump jets in rapid succession, slowing its descent before splashing into the stream with an epic crash. It seemed to linger in place for a handful of heartbeats before it took off toward the opposing force at a speed any Doom Cat would be proud of.
“Madame, what is the logic of such a machine not advancing to target?”
“The Commander is smart, Tempi. He’s going to use the mech as cover to do a rolling advance to our position. Pull back to the ship with the rest of the crew. The boys and I will hold our friends until the package is aboard.”
“Yes, Madame.”
Overlays superimposed themselves into the grizzly terrain, showing her the remainder of her forces on station. “Merlin. Jester. Establish linked fire with the drones. Try to keep the mech busy. Don’t get flagged. You won’t stand up long against the plasma caster it has on its shoulder.”
The two mechs acknowledged her, but she didn’t concentrate on their voices. She primed the underslung grenade launcher on her forearm, sending three quick pumped charges into the glade. Their pop preceded a thick black smoke choking the field. Intermittent sparks lit the fog, highlighting all the mercs caught in its wake. Their camouflage was rendered useless while making their sensors ineffectual. The Ink Grenades were a better version of the chaff g
renades they were using. They also had the added benefit of combining with the existing smoke, co-opting its effects. She could see them but they couldn’t see her.
Four Spider Drones stood up from the other end of the grove. They shrugged off the snow, exposing medium blaster machine guns set under a gaggle of spindly legs. They began to fire into the smoke, dropping another of the Tigers. There were only five left, not including the commander, who seemed content to give orders from his back, for the moment. The Kangal mech knelt over him, shielding him from strafing fire of the remotely operated death dealers. A launcher unfolded from its shoulder, spinning into the charged frenzy with a buzzsaw scream. The molten ball of energy sailed from the caster to slam into the first of the spider drones. It melted into a ball of slag, blown clear of its legs still stuck in the snow.
“Those aren’t going to last long. Too bad. They were new,” Madame Tarot said over the whine of the next shot being spun up. “Merlin. Jester. Get clear of that mech. Head for the ship.”
She took off at a run, getting to the edge of the mountainside relief before sliding on her rump down the hill. The two bots were chasing after her at vehicular speeds, diving in similar fashion like chasing after the leader in a slalom. They tumbled onto one of the switchbacks of the road. Finding their feet, they ran beyond a ridge, the rearmost mech firing at the spot they just left.
The Kangal appeared at the top of the hill, charging its plasma caster while sighting the annoying little android. It catapulted the fiery projectile, forcing the bot to dive out of sight. The plasma burst hit, eradicating several trees into a molten crater on the side of the hill.
As it did, a light freighter common to smugglers and bounty hunters, shot from the mountain, spraying ice and rock in a magnificent shower of destruction. Its main drive engines flared to life, rocketing the craft into the clouds, out of sight.
Madame Tarot looked back from the co-pilot's chair to see Temperance sliding into one of the available jump seats. “Temperance.”
“Madame. Last images from our drones indicate there were four enemy combatants remaining, as well as the commander and the Kangal Mech. We are well out of range. Unless they have a ship pick them up, we should be clear of their ability to track us within a few moments.”
Tarot studied the navigational arrays, looking for somewhere that wasn't continually right under the cartel's noses. The client had insisted that the principal stay on Tythian but that was becoming problematic. Perhaps a short detour off planet would keep her out of sight just long enough to be forgotten about. Then they could return her. “Thank you, Tempi. Excellent work coordinating the counter assault. Everyone did well out there.”
“Except for Romeo,” a new mech interrupted, walking into the cockpit. They all resembled each other; a skeletal combat chassis with an armored torso below blank human faces. It was the little things that allowed her to set them apart after months of time with them in the field. Temperance walked and talked like a cultured woman. Her forehead, when not changed to affect some sort of camouflage, had an image of a scale with a heart on one side and a feather on the other. In their own network, Tarot had created overlays that she felt fit their personalities. Temperance appeared as an elegant human woman wearing fashionable versions of what everyone else wore. On the ship she wore a sun dress. Romeo always wore a suit and a smile to match a personality of honey and venom. Jester appeared as a mad scientist, constantly tinkering with something. The mech that had strolled in was Morpheus. In the HUD, he resembled a man of sophistication, such as a professor or doctor from the Core Worlds.
“He was reckless, today,” Morpheus said. “Getting that close jeopardized our escape effort. I should install some sort of behavioral inhibitor to...”
Tarot shot a glance back at him. Her helmet gave no hints as to her expression but Morpheus knew that look.
“Or not,” the cultured bot said, more to appease his master than to signal agreement.
“Clutch, take us to the safe-house.” Tarot called to the flight deck. “His royal majesty won't like it but we need some distance and a re-supply.”
“Yes, Madame. Do you want me to take the long way around?”
“Yes.” The armored mercenary rose from the co-pilot's chair, gesturing to Tempi to take her place. She exited the cockpit, descending the ladder to the lower hull. She walked down the passage, signing into a holographic interface. “Yasmine. I trust you made it through the hail of gunfire without incident?”
“I was unhurt, Madame. Thank you for your concern.”
Tarot flipped through the screens, coming to the image of a man in a lab coat. “Jester.”
“Madame! That gunfight wasn't as good as the last one. We got our hands way dirtier before.”
Even through the helmet audio, Tarot's tone was admonishing. “The job isn't to get dirty, Jay. It's to keep the client clean. Yes?”
“Of course, Madame. But ya know, when you employ glorious birds of prey, like ya do, you got to let us fly!”
No hint of emotion showed through the helmet. “Lower the curtain for our guests.”
The holographic lab-coat-guy lowered a set of goggles over his eyes. “Of course, Madame. You want video of the antics?”
Tarot closed the interface. The bots were extremely chatty today. Unlike people, they wouldn't take offense at being ignored. Most of the time, she just wanted to be left alone. On those rare occasions she wanted someone to talk to, they were always there for her. In some ways, she felt they were getting the worse side of the deal.
Tarot walked into her quarters, waiting for the door to slide and lock shut. She popped the latches on her armor, taking off the load-bearing harness so she could remove the heavy plates, finally depositing the lot on a stand in corner of the room. She locked her weapons into a folding rack in the wall, freeing her hands to remove the myoprene portion of the armor that lay beneath the plates. She continued to strip until naked, allowing her skin to bask in the newly cycled air of the starship. She took a precious few moments to shower off the dirt and grime along her intersecting scars. Each one told a story. Each one paid for by the blood of someone else.
“Tempi?” Tarot asked.
From somewhere in the ether, Temperance came over the speaker in her bunk. “Yes, Madame.”
“Please let me know when we hypercast out of the system.”
“Of course, Madame.”
She lay on her bed, spent from having to be vigilant for the last few weeks. Tythian boasted thirty-two hour days, unusually long for a habitable planet. She’d known they were coming. Their contact in the Chen Cartel told them something was in the works. She just wasn't sure of the timing, thus having to remain alert. Even though she had the Card Arkana at her disposal, a good operator knew plans change, equipment fails, and the only asset you can truly trust is yourself.
Temperance came over the loudspeaker a fraction of a second ahead of the cast to Hyperspace. “Madame, casting off now.”
Tarot never heard the connection. The bots all knew when to leave her alone. Wrapped in her blanket, secure in the folds of hyperspace, Madame Tarot slept.
“Are you hurt, Corporal?”
The young woman folded the cloak like a treasured heirloom. She set it into a box beside the bunk. “No, I’m good. Thank you, Merlin.”
“You are most welcome,” the bot said, affecting a bow to near human-like imperfection. He was always pleased when someone told him that his flaws were perfect. Humans were such strange creatures.
“Merlin, what do you think will happen when this is all over? I mean, I don't have a place in the military after what I did. My family is gone. This crew has been the closest thing I've had to friends in a long time. Do you think when this is over, she'd have a use for me? Will she have a use for you?”
The bot folded its arms to imitate another human mannerism. He tilted his head to one side, seemingly deep in thought. He always perceived this biological tick to be most interesting. Did putting the brain to one side or a
nother causing its cerebral fluid to rest against the skull increase cognitive activity? It was an interesting question that he wasn't fully able to study as the Madame had a tendency to ventilate the life out of people before they had a chance to tilt their head in thought. “When we were on our way out of the cabin, Romeo was hurt. She had Morpheus take the time to remotely collect his memory before moving to the ship. So not only did she ask one of her crew to recover a fallen comrade, she asked him to do it with minimal risk to the rest of us. When we're on down cycle, she asks how we’re doing. She asks our opinions during operations. Why go through any of that trouble for something she doesn't care about?”
“I didn't think of that.” The Corporal said.
Merlin continued, “In any event, Corporal. Miss. When you were given to our charge, the Madame locked a directive to keep you safe into all of us. We will drive ourselves to scrap rather than allow you to come to harm. So to that end, one could reason that Madame Tarot values you as much as she values us. And she seems to value us a great deal.”
“That's sweet, Merlin. Thank you. Now if you don't mind, I should...”
“Turn off for the night?” Merlin said wryly.
“Turn in, Merlin. We turn in, not off.”
“Right.” The bot elongated the word as though the act would lock in the lesson. “I'm always getting that one mixed with some of the others. Thank you, Corporal.”
“Thank you for checking in on me, Merlin.”
“My purpose. My pleasure. Good night, Miss.”
The mountainside grove next to the ruined cabin had been set ablaze by the hasty firefight. Light was dancing off the stream, casting shining flecks similar to a pack of fireflies, across the ruined, burning water wheel. Kilmartin stood beside the Kangal mech, taking stock of what was left of his pack of killers.
The Revenant: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 2) Page 3