Relic Tech

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “That firepower could eliminate a lot more than theories.” We approached the simulator. “Your captain probably knows. Just hasn’t mentioned it to you.” He rapped on the metal door. “Ready yet?”

  DeLark stuck his head out. “What?”

  “Is the program loaded?”

  “Yes, Corporal.” He swung the door open and stepped aside. “Enter at your leisure.”

  “After you, Specialist Keesay,” offered Smith. “Remember what I told you about the Stegmar Mantis?”

  The simulator was roughly four yards wide and deep, and at least three and a half high. “The predatory sounding? I remember.” I continued to examine the interior. A myriad of projection lenses and speakers were lodged along the walls, floor and ceiling.

  “He hasn’t heard it before?” DeLark asked. “Hope his bladder ain’t full.”

  “He can handle it,” Smith said with a warning glance my direction. “Start the program.”

  I stood along the back wall between the two observing marines. DeLark held a remote, controlling the simulation. A location, date and time image hovered before the scene set itself. Privates Ringsar and Hiroyuki appeared and began selecting their defensive setup and equipment. DeLark adjusted our view so that we were slightly elevated to the scene.

  “They took the simulated injections to ward off the toxin,” Smith said.

  The targeting program loaded terrain features. Ringsar and his partner took up positions behind a four-foot crumbling concrete wall. In the distance, to the right of a pale, red setting sun, a large communication tower stretched skyward from a rubble-strewn landscape.

  “You fire on any fliers,” ordered Ringsar. “I’ll target ground runners. Concentrated fire on any shielded Crax.”

  Then it started. The noise, a combination of harsh clicking and screeching chirps, rose before movement could be spotted. Involuntarily, I gritted my teeth. Corporal Smith watched my reaction out of the corner of his eye. “It gets worse,” he said, “but doesn’t last long.”

  I spotted the movement just after the shooters. “Keep down,” urged Hiroyuki. “Their weapons have better range.” A barrage of projectiles clattered against and over the wall, interrupting his orders.

  Ringsar and Hiroyuki struggled to shake off the sounding’s effects as it intensified. “Here they come,” grunted Ringsar. I struggled to focus through the nerve-wracking noise as well. “Three bulldogs,” shouted Ringsar, “three o’clock coming in low.”

  A trio of basketball-sized beetles, each with a double set of pinching jaws, flew awkwardly in. “Diversion,” said Hiroyuki.

  “I know,” said Ringsar. “I’ll take the lead, then repel the left.” He popped up and fired. One beetle staggered in flight before crashing. Hiroyuki popped around the side taking the other two.

  Ringsar pulled the trigger at another target. I smiled inwardly as he spun back to cover, thumbed the hammer. “Damn,” he cursed at wasting the vital second.

  The double-barrel shotgun sounded twice as Hiroyuki brought down two Stegmar. He caught one firing and the other while it leapt forward, toward cover. Ringsar’s quick aim nailed three of four advancing Stegmar.

  “We won’t hold’em for long with this equipment,” shouted Hiroyuki, reloading. He spun and emptied both barrels on target, taking a needle in the leg. “I’ve taken one,” he said. “Perimeter, twenty-five meters.”

  Ringsar had removed my revolver’s cylinder and was attempting to extract the empty casings. “Cover while I reload!”

  Hiroyuki popped up, taking a low approaching beetle and forcing a mantis on the left to duck behind a pile of cinder blocks. “Took another in the arm,” he said.

  “Argh,” grunted Ringsar as he dropped a fresh round trying to load.

  Another double-barreled blast. “Perimeter fifteen meters,” announced Hiroyuki. The sounding’s ferocity climbed to new heights causing me to break into a cold sweat. “They’re coming!” he shouted.

  Muttering what must have been curses, Ringsar slid the cylinder in place, slid the pin and locked it in. “Ready, NOW!” he shouted.

  The marines turned and opened up on the encircling swarm. Their horribly inadequate firepower allowed Ringsar to only get three rounds off, taking out two and wounding one. His partner managed to unload both barrels once more before the simulation announced, “Disabling damage sustained by both defenders.”

  “Lights,” commanded Smith. A little stain hung in his voice.

  After taking a deep breath, DeLark said, “Pretty low score.”

  Smith grinned, watching me wipe my brow. “Cut off the ending,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d care to hear Pillar’s choice words about you and your equipment.”

  I tilted my head and stretched my neck. “I know his opinion of me. Guess my old-style guns aren’t up to modern combat.”

  “We’d have done better, but still would’ve been fast overrun,” Smith said. “Really, against the Stegmar and the bulldogs a shotgun is okay. If you go up against a screen in combat.” He stopped. “Right, you know the consequences first hand.”

  Before I commented, DeLark spoke up. “At least you didn’t puddle.”

  Smith laughed. “DeLark, Keesay here bayonet charged an armed terrorist sheltering behind a Crax shield.” He opened the door. “Keesay, you do look a little tense.”

  “That battle call really gets under the skin,” I said. “Do you get used to it?” I rotated my jaw, trying to release some of the built up tension.

  “A little. But you can turn the tables on them.”

  “Is that all, Corporal?” interrupted DeLark, offering him the memory chip.

  “Sure, thanks,” Smith said before leading me toward his bunk. “Said you were going to work out?”

  “Correct. A little exercise to work off the day’s frustrations, and the simulation.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Be my guest.” I watched while he grabbed some sweats. “What were you saying about turning the tables?” I led the way out of the barracks.

  “Oh, right.” He swung his garment sack over his shoulder. “If you have enough men who won’t falter, and can keep a steady beat, you can turn the tables.”

  “Drown out the sounding?” I asked skeptically.

  “No. But instruments or a song with a strong rhythm can unnerve the bugs, throws off their sounding.” Hand gestures emphasized Smith’s points. “See, they originally used sounding to panic prey into flight. But organized resistance seems to get under their...ahh, exoskeleton. Breaks their confidence.”

  “Why not arm each combatant with sound recordings?”

  “Doesn’t work. Scientists don’t know why. Just doesn’t.”

  “How many voices are required?”

  “Six to eight,” he said. “Might need more if their numbers are excessive.”

  “Doesn’t it bother the bulldog beetles or the Crax?”

  “The bulldogs are probably immune. Maybe like a hunting dog getting used to his master’s gunfire. The Crax?” He shrugged his shoulders. We walked a moment. “You know,” he started, but squinted his eyes and switched topics. “How goes your fourteen-hour days?”

  “Only five days a week. Half duty on two.”

  “Should’ve signed on with the Marines. At least you’d get a decent uniform.”

  “Do they issue bayonets?”

  We laughed and joked the rest of the way to the gym.

  Smith went over to chat with a few marines while I stretched. Gudkov and Haxon stood, joking around near the free weights. They lost their smiles when I began my laps. Before I knew it, they were gone. So much the better.

  After three miles and a breather, I wandered over to Smith at the wrestling mats as he talked to a stocky, angry looking marine. The angry marine shot me a glance and departed. “Smith, you want to show me that takedown you’ve been talking about?”

  He looked distracted. “Sure, Keesay.” We walked to an open mat and leaned close. “You know anything about Thrust?”r />
  His question took me by surprise. “Thrust?”

  “Combat enhancement drug,” he whispered. “Triples strength. Doubles reflexes. Masks pain.”

  “I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it restricted to front line combat units?”

  “According to regulations, yes. Ever see anyone on it?”

  “No, why?”

  “Let’s practice some simple takedowns. You listen.”

  “Okay.” We went through some basic moves and throws.

  “You’re about to be set up.” We went through several holds. “Someone on the stuff.” He reversed a hold. “Going to want to spar with you.”

  “My friend Gudkov?”

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “He led me off the mat. Best we shower-up.”

  “Think I should duck him?” I grabbed a towel. “It can become a bad habit.” His jaw almost dropped as he stared at me. “Would you?” I asked.

  “It ain’t me. Just my sound advice, Keesay.”

  Nobody would know if I simply left now, I thought. “How’d you know?”

  We turned to leave. “I just do.”

  “Keesay!” boomed Gudkov’s voice across the gym.

  “Always a second late and a credit short,” I said to Smith.

  “What?” Smith asked me as we turned and watched Gudkov and Haxon swagger across the gym. “Smith, how do I spot someone on it?”

  “Their eyes,” he whispered. “Narrow pupils. Constant movement, even when staring ahead.”

  Gudkov and his shadow approached. Gudkov’s eyes appeared intense but normal. “You called my name, Tech Gudkov?”

  He ignored Smith’s presence. “You up for some sparring?”

  I stared at Haxon. “Not with you, Gudkov.” Haxon’s eyes held steady, unmoving.

  Gudkov feigned disappointment. “Too bad. But no, not with me. One of my friends.”

  “Sure, I’ll go a few rounds with Haxon.”

  Haxon smiled and brushed aside a curl of blonde hair.

  “Glad you’re interested in going a few rounds,” said Gudkov. “But not with him.”

  “Then I’m not interested.”

  “Sure you are, Keesay. Consider a trained sec-spec ducking a match with a woman?”

  His minor etiquette breech, referring to a fellow security specialist as a sec-spec outside our circle, was meant to get attention. “I’m sure you’re aware a woman can become an expert in unarmed combat. Just like any man.”

  Gudkov crossed his arms. “There’re separate divisions for men and women at the top levels because physically they can’t compete. Trust me, Keesay, I’ve watched. I’ll give that you’re competent. If you weren’t, the company wouldn’t have hired you.”

  Much of the gymnasium activity had slowed. “I was preparing to leave, so get to your point.”

  “McAllister would like to go a round or two with you.” He projected the challenge just loud enough for all to hear. “Unless you’re afraid.” He leaned in. “Word like that gets around. And sticks.”

  “I’ll go with Haxon. Not McAllister.” I scanned the area not spotting her.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s trained,” I guessed. “She’s not.”

  His grin widened. “Check her file, Keesay. I trained her.” He leaned closer. “So when she kicks your ass, it’ll be like part of me doing it.”

  I took a chance. “Who’d ref?”

  “No need. Just a friendly match.”

  I refrained from looking at Smith. It was a set up, but maybe I could turn the tables. I spotted McAllister over his shoulder. Too far away to be sure if she was on anything, but her movements seemed jerky and restrained. “Like I said, Gudkov, I was getting ready to shower. She wants a piece of me, try tomorrow.”

  “She’s here and ready. You’re here and running. How’s that going to look to your colonists?”

  I couldn’t lose face with some in that crowd or I’d be up against it for weeks. “Give me a minute to hit the head.” I turned and hoped Smith would follow. He did. We made it to the lockers. I looked and listened. Nobody around. “I’ve got a plan, Smith. You in?”

  He shook his head. “She’s on it. You won’t win.”

  “Maybe not. She may not either.” I retrieved my com-set from my locker and made a few adjustments. “Here. You familiar with this set?”

  He looked it over. “Simple.”

  “Good. I’ve set it to record. Will relay it to my personal file and my sec-bot. All you have to do is record.”

  “Won’t be the first time I watch you get slammed.”

  I reached into my locker and traded cups. Then went to relieve myself. “Right, and maybe we can view it with DeLark. I might lose, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let them win.”

  “It’s your body. You’ve no comprehension of Thrust’s effects.”

  “How does it react with other drugs?”

  “Not well, why?”

  “That’s too bad.” I winked, and led him out.

  He grabbed a towel and tossed it over my com-set and joined the stocky marine on the sidelines.

  A dozen spectators, including Nist and Frost stood around. McAllister walked out toward the central mat. I moved to the far left one and waited while she stiffly crossed over.

  She was barefoot and wearing a white martial arts robe with a brown and green sash-like belt. Her eyes twitched ever so slightly and her pupils were constricted. “Anatol put you up to this, or was it your idea?”

  “Listen up, smart ass,” she hissed. “When I’ve finished with you, if you aren’t dead you’ll be permanently disabled.”

  “I probably should be scared, but in the big picture I’ve got a lot less to lose.”

  “Don’t worry, Killer. Unlike you, I’m capable of making it look accidental.” Her drug-crazed grin had to be hell-spawned. “And if I don’t, what’s a career compared to a life?”

  Up until that moment I hadn’t considered the situation life and death. I’d take Corporal Smith’s advice without question in the future. Maybe I should mutter it so he could make it my epitaph.

  No sense playing on the up and up. I shifted my eyes over her shoulder and feigned surprise. “Think the captain will appreciate your handiwork?” I didn’t wait to see if she fell for it. She did because my right connected with her chin, staggering her. I ducked, anticipating McAllister’s response. Still, her swing clipped my scalp. My left jab took her in the midsection, knocking some of the wind out of her.

  McAllister hopped back and smiled but I closed, unwilling to give up any advantage gained. She met me with a hail of kicks and blows, about a half of which I blocked. My nose and mouth were bleeding and I was sure I had several cracked ribs. She was too fast and her blows might well have been Kickboxing Champ Gudkov’s. Through it all, I glimpsed her maniacal grin.

  I snagged one of her arms and yanked her close. She spun to throw me. With my free arm I snatched a handful of her wildly braided hair and when she flipped me, and I clung to the red braids, yanking her to the ground after me. Then I felt it, a crushing knee to the groin. Her face, dripping blood from my initial punch, hung close to mine as I fought to remain conscious. A sudden fear registered—what if Dr. Sevanto switched the Triskiseral for something inert?

  McAllister’s smile faltered. I snapped my forehead into her face and rolled her off. Her nose spouted blood. She tried to stand but her right leg collapsed. I couldn’t stand erect and could hardly walk, but it was my turn to smile. She looked from her leg to me. I met her bewildered gaze with the strongest right cross I could muster.

  A body hit me from the side and I found Gudkov on top of me. Before he could do anything someone barreled into him. I watched but couldn’t get up. Smith and Gudkov were going at it with several others joining the fray. I think Haxon landed on me.

  The thirty-six hours following the incident dragged as I was confined to quarters except for testimony and medical care. I was less than c
onfident of the results.

  “They are ready for you,” droned Ensign Selvooh.

  I didn’t bother to acknowledge. Instead, I proceeded through the door. The captain sat stiffly behind her desk. To her left was Mer. To her right, the chief. No lawyers for this internal corporate matter.

  “Be seated, Specialist Keesay,” ordered Captain Tilayvaux. She nodded to Chief Brold.

  “We have reviewed your claim,” he said. “Surveillance monitoring doesn’t support your version of events, which precipitated the incident. That includes recordings from the main network, and those directed to your personal account and to your assigned sec-bot.”

  He feigned reviewing notes on a computer clip. “Interviews of witnesses neither bolster your claim nor contradict the recorded evidence. And there is no trace of any restricted substance in Senior Engineer McAllister’s blood or tissue samples.” He looked back to the captain.

  “These findings,” she stated precisely, “investigated by Chief Engineer Harkins and Dr. Sevanto contradict your claim. Senior Engineer McAllister’s account of the incident is fully supported by the evidence.”

  I looked to Brold and then to Mer. Their view concurred with the captain’s.

  The captain sat up straighter. “You have been found guilty of a class-two assault upon a superior endued service skilled investor of Negral Corporation. Do you have an official statement before your sentence is handed down?”

  “I do.”

  Unfazed, she leaned back. “You may make it.”

  “I request that all forensic evidence of this incident be secured and isolated from possible tampering or manipulation. To include all security and recorded files of the incident, any records or interviews of witnesses, and personal clothing and equipment of all involved personnel examined as evidence for this case, including blood and tissue samples. And that the evidence be secured in storage such that access is not routed through any manner of ship-wide computer network. Accessible only through direct and simultaneous action by any two of the three individuals present at this judgment and sentencing.”

  Only the captain appeared surprised. “And the purpose for this stated request?”