Armor World

by B. V. Larson

  “That might not go so well…”

  “No, it won’t—and that’s why I’m really going with your plan. If you’re going to do a dirty deed, McGill, you have to go all the way. If you take a shot at the King—you’d better make damned sure you kill him.”

  Graves showed up then, and he was puffing. He shoved a yellow barrel at me with a data chip on top.

  “Do your worst,” he said.

  Turning around, I ran down the ramp and greeted the Skay tanks, which were restlessly rolling around on their man-high treads.

  -55-

  The Skay tanks rolled away without a word of thanks. They carried the deadly cargo I’d given them, and I had to wonder if they’d really kill the Mogwa with it.

  Walking back to the ship, I whistled a cheerful tune. As far as I was concerned, I was a clear hero. I’d saved the day and then some.

  I did feel a pang though, a real pang, when I considered old Sateekas. He was almost a friend. Sure, he was an arrogant gas-bag who would as soon torch-off the Earth as stub one of his thirty-odd toes, but I still had lingering feelings of admiration for him.

  Legate was freed within the hour. The big door began to rumble, and we all stowed our gear for takeoff.

  “Say Primus?” I asked when we were all strapping in on Gold Deck.

  “What is it, McGill?” Graves asked. “You do realize you’re only been allowed up here in case the Skay contact us. I’d also remind you of your promise to keep quiet.”

  “Got all that, sir. I was just wondering what we’re going to do about Sateekas. Has anyone reported his status to Mogwa Prime yet?”

  “No, Legate doesn’t have a deep-link system. All of his ships were lost, so we’ll have to report the matter when we return to Earth.”

  “Hmm…” I said.

  Legate lifted off then, rumbling and shivering under our butts. The big door—make that mouth—of our Skay host had cracked open far enough to let us out.

  A glowing field had formed, much like the ones we used to keep air pressure on fighter hangars. It wasn’t perfect, however, judging by the thin cold atmosphere inside the Skay and the dead zone around the only entrance.

  Everyone was working instruments and watching screens tensely, but I wasn’t worried. If the Skay changed its mind and wanted us dead, it could shoot us down at any moment. Worrying about it wasn’t going to fix anything.

  “You know what I never thought to do?” I asked loudly.

  Graves shot me an irritated glance. Something seemed to be bothering him.

  Drusus spoke up. “What did you forget, Centurion?”

  “I forgot to ask this Skay’s name. Can you believe that? He must have an identifying label, don’t you figure? How will we tell if the next one we meet is the same guy or not?”

  Drusus squinted at me. “Did the Skay say anything about returning?”

  “No, not specifically. I was just assuming he would. After all, we’ve sworn our undying allegiance to him.”

  Graves finally lost it. “Has it occurred to you that the Mogwa also assume our loyalty? That they will return in force someday soon to claim what they consider to be their province? That you, James McGill, have single-handedly brought the civil war of the Core Systems home to our lonely corner of the galaxy?”

  That was quite a speech for Graves. He must have been stewing over there for a long time.

  “You think so?” I asked. “You really think the Skay and the Mogwa will fight over this patch of stars? As far as I can tell, they both think it’s a turd-water province, not worth a damn to anyone.”

  “It’ll be a matter of pride,” Drusus said, looking at the screens.

  We exited the Skay’s mouth and glided out into open space. Everyone on the bridge breathed easier after that.

  “Go to warp as soon as we can,” Drusus ordered, and then he turned back to me and Graves. “A matter of pride…” he repeated. “Countless are the empires that have ground themselves to dust over worthless patches of territory.”

  “The important thing,” Graves said, “is their tendency to scorch the planets of anyone who has the misfortune of getting in their way. McGill, do you recall what Magnate Xlur told you about the last Civil War they experienced in the Core Systems?”

  “Yeah, sure. He said twenty thousand worlds were destroyed,” I said, and I scratched my ear for a moment. “That does seem like an awful lot…”

  “No shit,” Graves said, and he turned back to watching the screens.

  I knew he didn’t like it when I overstepped my boundaries, but it was just something that happened now and then. I didn’t go out of my way to get into trouble. In fact, the most infamous disasters I’d triggered had happened while I was actively trying to avoid such complications.

  “Should we have died back there, Primus?” I asked seriously. “Because if you really want to go for it, we might be able to pull a U-turn right now, go back into that thing’s mouth, and unload every nuke we’ve got.”

  Graves turned back to face me. “What the hell good would that do?”

  “It might destroy the Skay tanks—and the Mogwa poison.”

  Graves thought about it, but he shook his head. “It won’t help. The Mogwa will come back here anyway. They know this Skay invaded their territory. They’ll want revenge no matter what we do now.”

  “Bingo!” I boomed at him. “It doesn’t matter one frigging finger what we do now. But at least this way, we’re alive and breathing, delivering the news to Earth. We’ve got options—and we aren’t dead yet.”

  Graves sighed. “I guess I’m just regretting the situation we’re in.”

  “There you go! That’s right where you should be, with all due respect, sir. When you feel like that, like all the universe is crouching on your shoulders, that’s when you call in James McGill to fix the unfixable.”

  Graves stared at me for a moment, and I grinned back. He turned away at last, shaking his head.

  Drusus had watched this exchange with mild interest. He sucked in a breath and faced me.

  “Once again, we’re in your debt, McGill. I don’t know how we could have gotten out of that monster’s belly without you.”

  “You couldn’t have,” I said with certainty. “There was no hope at all.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked, slightly amused.

  “Because sir, you fellows think in straight lines, see. I never do that, and I never have. My mind is all loops and swirls, spins and twists… There isn’t a straight line in my skull. Not a damned one of them.”

  Drusus turned away with a half-smile, and he began giving orders. Soon, the screens went white, and Legate slipped away in a warp-bubble.

  We’d escaped the first Skay humanity had ever met, but I couldn’t help wondering what would happen next out in the Core Worlds.

  -56-

  On the long way home, I met up with a woman I’d meant to spend time with, but never had: Centurion Jennie Mills.

  It happened at an award ceremony where they were giving out promotions to recruits who’d made it to the status of ‘regular’. That wasn’t a big deal to anyone other than the recruits, but they didn’t know that. To them, it was the biggest day of their lives.

  After distributing insignia, better uniforms and even outfitting some of them in heavy armor, I managed to sidle away from my unit and over closer to Jennie’s.

  “Hey Mills!” I said, tipping a squeeze-bottle of beer in her direction. “I haven’t seen you since 51 Pegasi.”

  She looked around, spotted me, and then she let her face soften. She didn’t look super-happy to see me. It was more like she was amused.

  That was okay. As long as a woman didn’t greet me with the stone-face of death, I knew I had a chance.

  Grinning, I scooted around some excited new regulars and headed toward her. She waited, tilting her head a little. She didn’t even say anything.

  “Damn, was that a fight inside Armor World or what?” I offered.

  She shuddered a little. “T
hat death ship wasn’t to my liking. No sun. No natural ecosystem. So alien… so evil.”

  “It was that,” I admitted. “Say, you want to have a beer with me? I’ve felt bad for a while now about how we were separated and never had a chance to meet up again.”

  Jennie looked at me speculatively. I knew that look. She was making her decision, right then and there, whether I had a chance in hell with her or not.

  Looking as clueless and friendly as possible, I stood there, waiting for her to make her decision. Sometimes, a man had to know when it wasn’t time to push.

  “All right,” she said at last.

  We got two fresh beers—my first one was empty by now—and took a seat.

  We were on Green Deck. We enjoyed the fake sky, the fake trees, the fake grass, and the very real company.

  Jennie didn’t make me wait around. I’ll say that for her. Lots of girls—even hard-bitten Varus veterans, would make a man wait for a week or so. But not her. We went to her module, went into her cabin, and made sweet love.

  Then, an hour later, I snorted awake.

  It was my honest opinion that she’d kicked me. But that couldn’t be…

  “What’s up, girl?”

  “Get out,” she said.

  “Uh… is something wrong? Did I snore, or something?”

  She flipped on the lights. She was standing over me, buck-naked and looking great. She was one of those girls who had big hips, a narrow waist, and squared-off shoulders. Her hair hung around her face, and she had that dark-circle look, like when a girl’s makeup melts around her eyes.

  One finger extended toward my tapper. It was lit up with a message.

  The message was from Adjunct Barton. There was only one visible word, on the subject line. The word was tonight?

  I think it was the question mark at the end of that single word that had screwed me. The implications were all too clear.

  “Oh…” I said, thinking as fast as my blurry, half-asleep mind could carry me. It didn’t do all that well, as things turned out. “Hey,” I said. “She just wants to talk about our exercise we’re planning in the morning. One of those crack-of-dawn surprises for the troops.”

  “Really?” Jennie said, crossing her arms over her tight breasts. I was sorry to see them go. “That’s seriously the lie you’re going with, McGill? I’d heard you were good at making up shit to tell women.”

  “Huh…” I said, scratching at my ribs and dressing. “She’s not like my girlfriend or anything. Neither are you. I like you a lot, Jennie. I didn’t figure you were the possessive type on the first date.”

  “This is our third date, and you are screwing your own adjunct. That’s unacceptable.”

  Grumbling, I got myself kicked out into the passages. On the way to the elevators, I thought I might have heard a few snickers from passersby, but it could have been my imagination.

  Returning to my own module, I stretched out on my bunk and sighed.

  It felt pretty good to sleep alone and uninterrupted. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it all the way until morning. There was a tapping at my door sometime after three a.m.

  Getting up and yawning, I opened it.

  Erin Barton stood there. She looked kind of hurt, and kind of pissed, too.

  Damnation. Had these two women talked already? That was downright unfair. They always teamed up on a man like me.

  “Good morning,” I said in as cheery a voice as I could muster.

  “You never answered me,” she said.

  She was sullen, staring down at the deck.

  “Huh…? Oh… right. Sorry about that, girl. I must have been asleep.”

  Those eyes flicked up at me, then down to the deck again.

  “I came by before and after the text. You weren’t here.”

  I sighed. “Look, Erin. I’ve been thinking.”

  “Stop,” she said, putting up a hand. “I know. It’s wrong. We have to cut this off right now. It’s not good for the troops. Not good for morale.”

  She stood on her tiptoes, and as she was a tall girl, she was able to brush her lips against my stubbly cheek.

  My hand touched the spot, which went cold with the lingering kiss.

  “All right then,” I said. “We had fun, and it’s over. Are you okay?”

  She nodded, and she walked away. I could tell she wasn’t okay. Not entirely. But at least she’d never found out about Jennie, and I hoped she never would.

  -57-

  On the way home, they revived a lot of our dead. Not all of them mind you, but most of them.

  Legion Varus people were prioritized to go first. This was because only our transport ship had survived. The Solstice people would have to stay on ice until we got home.

  Right at the head of the queue was someone I hadn’t seen in a long while—Tribune Galina Turov.

  She came out kicking and hissing—at least, that’s what the Blue Deck rumor-mill said. For my own part, I believed them. She’d never liked dying much.

  When I heard about it, the news came from Carlos. He was happy to tell me. Too happy.

  “She’s looking for you, McGill. You know that, don’t you?”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re her white knight! The boy-toy who never fails to rescue her shapely ass. That is until now, when you went and left her on ice for weeks while you chased every piece of tail in the legion—and no, don’t think she doesn’t know about that. Everyone does.”

  Ever since I’d met Carlos, many decades ago, I’d felt like clocking him on a regular basis. This was just one more checkmark on that long list of special occasions.

  “Everyone should keep their noses out of my business,” I told him and stomped off.

  Experimentally, I sent Galina a text when I was alone in my office. “Hey! I hear you’re back with us again. Great to hear Graves finally approved your revival. I’ve been worried sick.”

  The middle part was intended to shift blame, and the last part was a bald-faced lie. Of course, Galina would know that instantly. The way I figure though, it never hurt to make a show of caring, even if both sides knew it was a pretense.

  There was no answer. After about three minutes went by, I stopped looking at my tapper and shrugged. If she was in a bad mood, well, it was for the best that she not talk to me until she got over it.

  Going back to work, I drilled my troops. Everyone was lazy and half-assed about it, and it was hard to blame them. We were on the way home to Earth, and once we got there we’d probably be demobilized.

  My men stood in a sloppy imitation of troops at attention. I walked the line and praised them for their performance back on Armor World.

  “That was a hairball planet, wasn’t it?” I asked. “The word ‘nasty’ now has a new meaning in my book. Think about it: we were really inside the living guts of an intelligent machine the size of a planet. According to our xeno people, that’s how these Skay things all operate. They build cyborgs in their bodies that operate like enzymes, or white blood cells. Those freaky meat-and-machine constructs digest incoming matter, clean up the place, even defend and heal the greater host.”

  Suddenly, I became aware of a shift in attitude among my men. They were standing tall, becoming alert and aiming their eyes front. No longer was their previous slouching, hooded-eye stare the norm.

  On a hunch, I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, the tribune was behind me.

  “Tribune on the deck!” Harris shouted, having figured out we were being observed at the same moment I had.

  Turov eyed us all coldly. Was her hair matted, sticky and curly? I thought that it just might be. She was fresh out of the revival machines, and she’d come straight here. What did that mean? I wasn’t sure, but I was certain it wasn’t good.

  “At ease,” she said at last. “Carry on, Centurion. Tell us what you’ve learned. Some of us have been out of the loop for a long time...”

  “Uh… yes sir.”

  Turning back to my assembled un
it, I noticed they were looking a trifle freaked out. It wasn’t every day the brass left Gold Deck and came down here to slum around in the modules with the common soldier. In fact, as far as I could remember, this had never happened before.

  “As I was saying,” I continued, “the Skay are not only real-deal Galactics, they’re probably the strangest race we’ve encountered yet among the stars. They build sub-creatures out of flesh and metal, but their brains are always electronic. Fortunately, this gives them a certain inflexibility of the mind which we were able to take advantage of.”

  I heard a tiny snort from behind me then. That was the tribune—it had to be. I took her rudeness good-naturedly, refusing to allow it to put me off my game.

  “Are there any questions, troops?” I asked.

  Cooper appeared suddenly and raised his hand. I rolled my eyes and pointed to him.

  “What is it, ghost-man?”

  “What happened to the Mogwa?” he asked, touching upon a sore point. “Where are they? I saw them waddling around Gold Deck, but by the time we reached that big bastard Skay planetoid, they were all gone. Did we sell them out to these new Galactics or something?”

  I blinked. It was a tell, and a bad move for bluffers like me in general. I’d done it in a moment of weakness.

  “Huh… that is a good question,” I said, rubbing at my chin in simulated thought. “How did you get a peek at them, by the way?”

  Cooper released a little puff of air. “A Ghost is supposed to watch things, sir. I was watching.”

  “Up on Gold Deck? You’re not authorized to go up there…”

  “Even if one of our tribunes is about to mutiny?” he asked.

  A stunned silence fell over the group. Everyone looked at Turov, assuming he had meant her.

  “That’s a damned lie, Cooper,” I announced. “I thought everyone aboard knew that Armel ditched Solstice and damned near sank Legate as well.”

  There were a few gasps. Not all my people were in the dirty loop of talk that existed on the ship.

  “In any case,” I said, “back to your original question. Earth is one hundred percent loyal to the Mogwa. If we were to switch our allegiance to a new Galactic species, surely we’d have been officially told about it.”