by Mark Wandrey
Traveler took up a geosynchronous orbit over the chief industrial complex of the Duplato’s largest settlement and established communications with the ground.
“Cartwright’s Cavaliers, we welcome you,” replied the Duplato representative. “Your arrival is as arranged, and we are glad. A large amount of ore is nearly refined and ready for delivery. This is when the raiders typically strike.”
“This is Jim Cartwright, commanding the Cavaliers. Please acknowledge for the record your recognition of our arrival, meeting the primary line of the contract.”
“We gratefully acknowledge,” they responded right away. “When will you be landing?” Jim glanced at Hargrave. They were in the company planning room, directly adjacent to the main hold. Numerous Tri-V displays were showing approaches to the planet’s surface, combat resources, and noncombat resources. Hargrave held up two fingers.
“We’ll be ready to land in about two hours.”
“Thank you again, Cavaliers. We are honored to have such a storied mercenary company as yours coming to our aid.” The connection was severed.
“We’re not nearly as storied as we used to be,” Jim mumbled as he typed in the data informing the logistics team they would be landing in two hours and instructing them to prepare the dropships. “Are you sure this plan of leaving Second Platoon in orbit is the best one?”
“I think it’s wise,” Hargrave said. “They can deploy to the surface in under twenty minutes. More importantly, from up here, more than half the planet’s surface is only a few minutes further away. We’ll have First Platoon and both APCs. If and when the raiders attack, we’ll push them back, and then Second Platoon can drop behind their position. We’ll have them in a nice, tidy box.” Jim chewed his lip and nodded. For some reason, he didn’t like the idea, but the books on modern tactics he’d read and Hargrave’s decades of experience agreed.
“Okay,” Jim affirmed with a sigh. “We have a plan.”
“Good,” Hargrave said. “Better go get suited up.”
“Are you sure we have to deploy in CASPers? Seems a bit excessive.”
“Wouldn’t do for the Cavaliers to come in on foot, now would it? These beings paid for a merc unit, not tourists.” Jim nodded again and floated into the changing room. He emerged in a few minutes in his haptic uniform. Hargrave was already waiting for him wearing his own. Jim nervously looked around, all too aware of how the special uniform was basically form fitted to his body. “Don’t worry kid, just remember Murdock’s lessons, and you’ll do fine. You don’t have to fight, just walk down the ramp.”
“I’ll do my best.” The deployment bell chimed three times.
“Time to go.”
The platoon troopers, in their suits, clomped up the ramps into the dropships. Jim, the commander, and his 1SGT were the last aboard. It was surprisingly easy to maneuver the suits in micro gravity – as long as you moved slowly to avoid sending your suit into a spin, the internal gyros would compensate. Jim fumbled a bit as he pushed back into the bulkhead lock, but finally heard it click and felt his suit pulled into the wall niche. The displays projected on the front of his protective cockpit showed a good connection, and data was fed to him from the dropship’s command network.
“Cavalier Actual,” he called over the radio link. “We’re aboard and secured.”
“Roger, Commander,” was Jane Wheeler’s reply. “Phoenix 1 and 2 are ready to deploy.” He felt the ship jostle as the hold’s crane moved it toward the deployment cradle.
“First Platoon, call out!” Murdock’s voice rang over the platoon channel. Second Squad from the other dropship was first to call off finishing with the senior corporal. Next came his own dropship ending with Buddha and himself. “All troopers present and accounted for, Commander.” There was a jarring shudder as Phoenix 1 locked into its cradle in the drop position.
“Very well,” Jim said, managing to keep a quaver out of his voice, though only just. “This is Cavalier Actual...drop, drop, drop.”
The drop cradles were locks built into the hull in the cargo holds of the Traveler. Clamshell doors were fixed with magnetic bolts that could be triggered by the drop leader. At the press of a button, the bolts released with explosive force, the atmospheric pressure of the hold blew the doors open, and the dropships were shot from the cradles into space, the air pressure acting like a gun. Inside the dropship, there was instant acceleration of nearly 3Gs and an almost incredibly loud roar as the ships were fired into space, followed by the sudden and all-encompassing silence of the void.
Expelled from the hold, the acceleration from the initial shove of exploding atmosphere went away as they plummeted toward the planet. Jim’s command feed provided him with images from the cockpit. The planet was rushing toward them at a startling rate.
“Was a combat drop really necessary?” Jim asked Hargrave over the command circuit. The entire squad chuckled in reply. Jim shook his head. “You bastards,” he said laughing along with them.
“Commander’s first combat drop,” someone said.
“Yee-haw!” someone else screamed, and others whooped and hollered. The dropship lurched violently as it hit the upper atmosphere of Kash-Kah.
“Now the fun begins,” Murdock said.
Hooked into mounts on the side of the dropship’s hold and standing upright, the troopers experienced the sudden and frightening deceleration of the dropship as sideways force. It went from a barely perceptible force to three Gs in a matter of seconds.
“Glide path is nominal,” Jane Wheeler said over the squad network. Jim had access to the flight data from the cockpit. He could see their flightpath as a curve that leveled out and reversed after several minutes, but the height of the curve, indicating G forces, was still ahead of them.
“How many G’s can the Phoenix take?” he asked her.
“Oh, the book says twelve,” she replied, “but I’ve pulled fourteen a few times during hot drops. Bent the wings on one about thirty years ago. My uncle was pissed.” She laughed, and sounded genuinely amused. Jim shuddered.
As the glide path predicted, the ride got more jarring, and the G forces worsened until they topped out at just under six. Jim clenched his jaws and shut off his radio so no one could hear him whining in fear. The forces had him crushed against the left side of his suit. It was padded, but not like the gel seat on Traveler’s bridge. It was just a half inch of dense foam. There were going to be bruises. He understood the nano-therapy even better now.
He’d made one small modification to his suit’s interior. Through extreme effort, he was able to turn his head just enough that he could see it. Fixed to the instrument readouts on the far right was a miniature stuffed animal with a rainbow tail. It stood out sideways from the string connecting it to the emergency canopy release.
“Hang in there, Dash,” he said through gritted teeth. And just like that, the gravity began to finally decrease.
It wasn’t a real combat drop. If it was, Jane would have flown almost straight down and then pulled up low to the ground, opened the side-drop doors, and the CASPers would have spilled out fast. Instead, Jane brought them in low and slow, using the dropship’s lift fans to showcase the Phoenix’s short takeoff and landing ability. She landed on the industrial complex’s runway and taxied toward a series of low hangars. Compared to the drop from orbit, it was a piece of cake. Jim toggled his radio back on.
“You did fine,” Hargrave said and patted his suit on the shoulder with a clunk.
“Asshole,” Jim said, only half-jokingly.
“Clear and locked,” Jane announced from the cockpit, and they could hear the engines spinning down even inside their suits.
“Prepare to disembark,” Jim ordered.
“You heard the CO,” Murdock said, releasing his clamps and dropping a foot to the reinforced deck with a resounding clang. He tramped to the rear gate that was already rotating open. “Let’s move it, shovelheads.”
All the way in the back, Jim activated his CASPer’s full power
and released the clamps. He didn’t stick the landing like his First Sergeant, but he managed not to fall on his face before turning and following the older man. At the bottom of the ramp, Murdock stood to the side just short of the world’s soil. He came to attention and waited. It had been tradition that a Cartwright was always the first to set foot on a world in a contract, and the last to leave.
“Ready, sir,” Murdock said. Jim threw a quick salute with his suit’s arm and stepped onto the concrete tarmac, which was dusted with snow. The Cavaliers were aground.
“Disembark them into the garrison building,” Jim said and pointed with the suit arm. The building was just as specified in the contract. Standard Union design, built by robots in hours. It would have the internal facilities necessary to maintain the entire company, even though only half were on the ground. A small ground-effect car of a common design was buzzing down the runway. Phoenix 2 was parking a short distance away. The car came to a stop, and four Duplato climbed out and approached in their strange short-legged gait.
“We welcome the Cavaliers,” one spoke, “I am known as Klent, industrial leader of the Duplato. These are my assistants.” They were all thickly furred, yet still wore heavy cloaks. Jim wasn’t surprised they needed the protection, his environmental sensors said the temperature was hovering around -11 degrees Fahrenheit. “There have been no signs of the raiders. We were expecting...Thaddeus Cartwright?” Klent said with some confusion.
“This is Thaddeus’ son, Jim,” Hargrave said, coming up from behind. “I’m his XO.” The alien observed them both with tiny black eyes as both dropships finished unloading troopers who then started moving ordinance.
“And the other platoon? The contract was for two.”
“They are in our cruiser,” Jim explained. “We were attacked immediately after transitioning to your system.”
“Is this true?” Klent asked, as his aides jabbered excitedly. “The raiders have never harassed space traffic before.”
“Because the transports had escort,” Hargrave explained. “We were a single ship, and they attacked with a squadron of corvettes. They thought they could get the upper hand.”
“But you won?” Klent asked.
“Call it a draw,” Jim said. “We believe they have a larger ship or a base in one of the asteroids near L2. They knew we were coming.”
“Mercenary contracts are public record,” Hargrave noted for them, though Jim already knew that. “Whoever is raiding your shipments isn’t happy that you’ve hired us.”
“Perhaps,” Klent said, “now that you have deployed, they will consider it too risky?”
“Unlikely,” Murdock grumbled.
“Klent, this is my First Sergeant, Murdock,” Jim introduced him.
“They lost some of their corvettes, and those aren’t cheap,” Murdock postulated. “They’ll want to recoup their costs.”
“If you would join us in the garrison headquarters,” Jim indicated the structure, “we can get out of this winter cold to discuss defenses, and you can share more details on previous attacks.”
“Winter?” Klent wondered. “Commander, this is a lovely spring day.” As they tramped toward the buildings, Jim shivered despite the heat provided by his suit’s environmental system. What must their winter be like?
Inside the facilities, living conditions were tolerable, if not warm. Jim guessed the temperature to be around 60 degrees Fahrenheit, give or take a bit. The Duplato immediately removed their cloaks and slung them around their waists while Jim, Hargrave, and Murdock parked their CASPers in a long garage that would eventually hold all the planet-side suits. The two men extracted themselves and easily slid-jumped down to the floor. Jim, on the other hand, never quite mastered that technique. Adayn had installed a rope ladder accessible just inside the hatchway. Klent and his assistants waited patiently as Jim did his best not to look like a fool climbing down. He largely succeeded.
Even with his extra body padding, Jim immediately felt chilled. Though their haptic uniforms were made of advanced wicking fabric, the combat drop had left him somewhat sweaty. The cool air hit him like a winter gale, and he instantly began shivering. By the looks on Hargrave and Murdock’s face, they weren’t very comfortable either. He caught Hargrave’s eye.
“We need to add cold weather gear to the CASPers,” he said, and Hargrave nodded. The suits were large enough to have several external storage compartments. They held various survival aids as well as some limited repair equipment.
“That’s a good idea,” Hargrave said and made a note. “It’s possible we could become disabled outside. A trooper would freeze to death in hours.” Part of the survival equipment was a sleeping bag and heater, but it wasn’t designed for this extreme an environment. More troopers were clomping into the far end of the garage, opening the doors and sending an even colder wind blasting through. “Let’s go see what info they have.”
The briefing only took an hour. The Duplato had some images taken from the last raid, months ago, as well as the first attack long before that. The first attack involved the corvettes, which Jim remarked would have been nice to know about in hindsight. The second attack was led by a number of medium tanks of several different designs.
“This isn’t what I expected,” Hargrave said, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?” Jim asked. Hargrave pointed to one image that showed a pair of tanks rolling across the snowy plain just outside the Duplato’s tank farm. One was a multi-wheeled affair similar to the old American Stryker design, the other a ground-effect hover-tank that was a newer design. Both had numerous men riding them in standard combat armor. Hargrave enhanced the image to show one of the group of riders. Just like the tanks, their armor varied in design.
“The theory about them being a rogue merc unit doesn’t add up, does it?” Jim asked. Both Murdock and Hargrave shook their heads no. “So what are they – some group of criminals? Pirates?”
“Pirates tend to stay mobile,” Hargrave said, “attacking shipping or doing lightning raids on remote locations. This,” he said and indicated the Tri-V screens, “is neither. Despite the age and haphazardness of the equipment, it’s all good enough to do the job.”
“Then what?” Jim asked again. Neither of them had an answer to that. “Well, the transport for the next delivery of radioactives is in two weeks, yes?” Hargrave nodded. “We can probably expect something by then. Let’s get moved in and prepare. Have Traveler send down the anti-aircraft and APC when Phoenix 1 and 2 get back up. We should be hot ASAP, just in case.” He looked at the tanks again. “Shifts are twelve-on, twelve-off. We can’t afford to have less than a full squad on alert at any time. That means they’re in the ready room outside the garage, not playing cards or watching Tri-V.”
“Agreed,” Murdock said.
“After the next transport comes and leaves, if these raiders haven’t attacked, we’ll rotate the platoons,” Jim ordered. Everyone agreed on the plan. “Maybe they’ll decide we’re too much for them.” Even though he’d been the one to say it, he wasn’t at all convinced that was how it would go.
The platoon was moved in and ready in under twenty-four hours. The planetary day on Kash-Kah was just over twenty-nine hours, which made for a difficult period of adjustment. Within three days, most of the men were showing signs of fatigue.
Since many of the troopers were inexperienced, the command staff put the extra time to good use by developing a series of training exercises. The locals used geo-thermal power, so there was no reason to ration power for their suits, and it freed the unit from bringing down a portable fusion plant, which would have been a tactical liability. Training began in earnest.
Jim split his time between operations and training in his suit. As the first week drew to a close, he was overjoyed to be able to execute a short jump without face-planting in the snow outside the garrison.
He had a brief but interesting tour of the Duplato city near the industrial facility as well. They preferred it cool and dark. As a re
sult, the Cavaliers on the tour had to wear LI goggles – Light Intensifying vision wear. These were standard equipment on deployments and were kept in the equipment bays of the CASPers as well. The Duplato city was mostly invisible – dug into cavern walls or out of live stone – but there were places that provided beautiful vistas over larger caverns, some with vast fields of stalactites and stalagmites and long underground rivers or lakes. Some had fields of carefully cultivated fungal growth, some bioluminescent. It was alien but beautiful.
The humans preferred their own food, though they sampled some of the local fare. The fungal staples were okay – at least those they could eat. The meats tended to be strong in taste, but a sort of meatball with fungus proved edible and popular. One of the Cartwright’s chefs incorporated them into a pasta dish that became an overnight favorite. The Duplato were good hosts, and appeared honestly grateful to have the Cavaliers on station, though, like most species, they didn’t really understand the mindset required to make warfare a lifestyle.
By the end of the first week, everyone had adjusted to the new day/night cycle as best they could. Nights were now a uniform ten-hour sleep cycle, and that meant a nineteen-hour awake cycle. Often troopers looked like zombies as the nineteenth hour approached, and on Hargrave’s suggestion they were all issued stimulant packs should an alert happen in the hours before a shift change, which was considered the highest risk of activity. As the second week wore on, Jim decided to rotate First Platoon back to orbit so that Second could get adjusted to the new environment. Of course, that was when the raiders arrived.