Blood World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 8)

by B. V. Larson

  But as it was, I caught nothing more than a close shave. The blade took off my shoulder armor on the left side, exposing skin and flesh to the searing dry heat of the atmosphere pouring into my suit.

  The skin of my shoulder and about a quarter inch of muscle had been shaved away as well, leaving a patch a good ten by ten centimeters across that was exposed and bloody.

  My left arm didn’t work right after that, neither the flesh part or the exoskeletal power-assist.

  Deciding now wasn’t the time to worry about flesh-wounds, I drilled the Vulbite with my morph-rifle at point-blank range. I pretty much put the muzzle against his midsection and let her rip. The Vulbite was shredded and fell, squirming.

  Doing a quick rotation, I took stock of the situation. All around me were struggling forms. By lying in wait underground, they’d managed to get into our midst where their swords weren’t such a disadvantage.

  Hustling, I joined a hundred other survivors to help people put down their attackers. The work was messy. We lost a hundred, and they’d lost the same by my estimation.

  Kivi was one of the unlucky ones. She’d survived the initial surprise swing, but her Vulbite had wrapped itself around her body and squeezed, biting through her thin armor. Nearby troops shot them both, and the Vulbite died with fangs sunk into her neck.

  “Dammit,” I complained. “Graves!”

  “What is it, McGill?”

  “Should we pull back? Regroup?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re winning by two to one at least. We’re already on an even footing with these Vulbites. If we press the advantage, we’ll break them soon.”

  I looked at the centipede-thing wrapped around Kivi.

  “I don’t know, sir,” I said. “These things are bugs. They don’t seem to get scared and run off. At least, I’ve never seen it happen yet.”

  “Get your head in the game, McGill. Regroup, improvise and press ahead. We’re winning this right now.”

  Reluctantly, I called my shrunken unit back together, and we marched onward.

  We were on their turf now, past the half-way point in the middle of the crater.

  We continued advancing until I spotted something ahead, something that gave me a good reason to pause.

  “Unit halt!” I shouted.

  Graves didn’t take long to notice my section of the formation was falling behind the rest. “McGill? What are you doing out there?”

  “I’m forwarding you the vid feed from my optics, sir,” I said, and did so.

  An officer had a different kit than the standard issue for a grunt. My gear had longer range vision and more options than a helmet worn by the average man on the line. That was because people with too many gizmos tended to play with them instead of focusing on completing their mission.

  “Well…” Graves said, “I’ll be damned. Is that a human out there? A human woman?”

  “Yes sir. And I’d say she’s like Floramel—a genetically bred science type.”

  “Of course…” Graves said. “That’s why this bug culture that can barely build a drop-ship has incredible stealth technology. Someone gave it to them.”

  “This contest does seem to be full of cheaters, sir.”

  “Take her out.”

  “Excuse me, Primus?”

  “You’ve got light troopers left. You’ve got line of sight. Kill her.”

  “Um…”

  “Are you feeling bad again, McGill? She’s not supposed to be in this pit. She’s cheating, you said it yourself.”

  “So I did,” I agreed with a sigh.

  I reached out and snagged the snap-rifle from a dead recruit’s body nearby. Forcing my bad arm to operate, I lifted the butt to my shoulder, sighted—then stopped before I pulled the trigger.

  The woman out there was easily visible through the scope on the sniper rifle.

  But there was more. At her feet, I saw the unmistakable shapes of a dozen or so smaller creatures.

  Tiny limbs, leering eyes—they were gremlins.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  I fired my snap-rifle. Three gremlins did backflips and scrabbled in the dust, dying.

  The woman got up from her knees, alarmed. I stood up and approached, changing my helmet’s external speakers to maximum volume. That was pretty loud, as an officer’s kit was meant to be heard a couple hundred meters away.

  My helmet buzzed.

  “McGill?” Graves said in my ear. “I’m watching you. I sense you’re going AWOL again. Is that right?”

  “Sir,” I told him, “please have a little faith. Give me a few minutes. I’m going try some diplomacy.”

  “Diplomacy? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Maybe sir. Maybe. Just give me a few minutes, and all our troubles might be over.”

  I closed the connection before he could answer. Sometimes that worked—at least for a few minutes.

  “Gytha!” I shouted, because I’d recognized the woman in the midst of those gremlin bastards. “Gytha, surrender now, or I’ll put you down!”

  Startled, my own men stood and followed me. Most of them hadn’t spotted the cheaters yet. They weren’t kitted for long-range vision, and after all the surprise attacks their attention had been focused on repelling the next wave of Vulbites that might be sneaking close even now.

  At last, Gytha spotted me.

  She was no soldier. I could tell that right off. A trained fighter’s instinct would have been to hit the dirt—but instead, she’d stood tall and looked for who was calling her name.

  “Stand down!” I shouted at her. “Surrender!”

  “How?” she asked.

  “Put your hands up! Put them on your head and lace your fingers together.”

  She did so, moving slowly. She looked bewildered and angry.

  As I approached, I did my best to keep her in my sights. I saw her face, her eyes. She was just as pretty as Floramel, but with darker features. I hoped I wouldn’t have to kill her. If I fired, she’d probably be permed.

  Her eyes flicked down to her sides. I saw her give a tiny nod.

  The gremlins saw her nod, and they moved to obey her.

  -49-

  Halting and sliding the scope from side to side, I saw them now. A dozen or more. They had devices in their hands, and they were manipulating them.

  “Unit halt!” I shouted. “Unit withdraw slowly!”

  But it was too late. The gremlins, seeing that we were pulling back, activated their devices.

  All around me, a dozen nozzles sprang up. They began pumping out gas. A moment later, there was a spark.

  My troops were in full retreat. I fired sporadically at the gremlins and Gytha—even though I couldn’t see her any longer.

  The gas ignited. It was some kind of aerogel, an airborne explosive.

  A terrific ripping sound tore through the air, reverberating off the distant crater walls. Small avalanches were triggered, and a massive cloud of dust swirled into the sky.

  My unit was hit hard. We’d been killing Vulbites right and left, but now, with this underhanded maneuver, our fortunes had been reversed.

  “Dammit!” I shouted, letting my helmet carry my voice to whoever would listen. “Gytha, you’re nothing but a red-handed cheater!”

  Quiet prevailed for a short time. But at last, over the groaning of the wounded, the crackling of fires that were still burning here and there, I heard a faint cry come back.

  “You cheated first!”

  Hmm… That was a shocker.

  She was right, of course. Sort of.

  “Truce!” I called out. “Let’s talk for a minute!”

  Another brief period of quiet ensued. But at last, I got my reply.

  “I saw how your truce went with the saurians!”

  Damn! She had me again.

  Sighing, I felt there was nothing for it. I had to take a chance.

  Stripping off my helmet and dropping my gun, I ripped loose a shred of my shirt through the damage in my armor, under my wrecked epaulet. It wa
sn’t all white, there was drying bloodstains on it. But I figured it would do.

  Walking forward into the desolation of dead and dying, I marched toward her, toward the spot where I’d last seen her.

  When I topped a rise, I found about two dozen gremlins crouching and peering up at me. They snarled and showed their teeth. Their eyes were slitted like angry cats.

  In their midst was Gytha. She, like Floramel, seemed to be treated like a goddess by the gremlins. They shifted uncomfortably around her, as if she was sacred and I was some kind of offensive being from the abyss.

  Vulbites were there too, watching. They were further off, shifting in and out of their cloaked state. The bag-like stealth garments they wore could apparently be turned on or off at will.

  “Gytha?” I asked, and she came forward warily.

  “What do you want, human? What evil trick is this?”

  “No trick this time. When I killed Claver before, we had agreed that he should die. He’s alive now, revived on our ship.”

  She cocked her head and walked around in the low part of her shallow refuge.

  “You didn’t shoot me. You shot the homunculi around me—but not me. Why?”

  I didn’t answer instantly, because I had to think about it. I had been shooting for her, in reality. Firing blindly as I pulled back. If a round had struck her—well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

  But that reality wouldn’t buy me any favors, I was pretty sure of that much.

  “It’s not right for one leader to shoot another by surprise,” I lied. “How can there be any discussion if one or the other is dead?”

  Gytha nodded slowly, seeming to accept this particular line of bullshit.

  It was about then that I realized she was very suspicious—but in the wrong way. She expected me to make a physical move on her. To try to slay her whenever I was able to do so.

  That was a very reasonable fear, but she didn’t seem to equally appreciate the threat of guile. Sometimes, words are better than bullets when they’re applied by a talented man.

  “So,” she said at last, “what is it that you’d like to talk about, leader of Earth?”

  That made me pause again, but only for a moment. I decided it was time to let all pretenses fall to the wayside. I wasn’t going to give her any more breaks.

  “You figured it out then? That I’m in charge of Earth—of all humanity?”

  “Of course, and I’m glad you’re not bothering to deny it. We’re not fools here on Blood World.”

  “Clearly, I underestimated you folks.”

  “Something you do at your peril!”

  About then Graves began bombing my tapper. He was doubtlessly wondering what the hell I was doing out here. Armor suits had extensions that docked with a man’s organic tapper, giving a similar interface on the inside of the left forearm.

  It kept blinking, but I turned my left arm away from Gytha so she wouldn’t notice.

  Gytha walked around, fuming. “You treat us like children,” she complained. “That’s been the most galling thing about you basics. But to answer your question, your real rank was obvious after I carefully considered the evidence. As you must realize, we’ve received vid reports from our initial attacks on your ship.”

  “Naturally we knew about that,” I said, lying harder every second.

  “Your subterfuge was poorly done. Every time we struggled with your people, McGill was there. When our force took Gold Deck—you freed it. When the final assault came against Engineering—you were there again.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “I guess I got cocky.”

  “You took it to the point of insult when the charade continued here on our homeworld. McGill? Alone in the first contest? Leading the second? Then claiming after all of that to be a subordinate in the third? I don’t think so!”

  “My apologies. The essence of warfare is to keep the other guy guessing.”

  “Excuses for dishonor are in and of themselves dishonorable.”

  I thought about apologizing, but I was betting she wouldn’t think much of that, either. Hers was a warrior culture, after all. She looked like Floramel, but she was an entirely different stripe of nerd.

  “The gall of it!” she went on. “You called a long list of fools your master! Winslade, Deech, Graves—one absurdity after another! Leaders lead, they don’t sit back and talk! It’s insulting that you believed we could be so easily fooled.”

  All I did was nod. Smart people really liked to be right about everything. I found the easiest way to trick them was by admitting their deepest suspicions had been correct all along.

  “Okay then,” I said when she’d wound down some, “where does that leave us right now? We’ve killed a lot of people in this crater today. Was it all a waste?”

  “Not at all. We’re learning about you basics, and you’re learning about us. You hold life in small regard because you can recreate it. We hold life with even less regard because we’re true warriors.”

  “Yeah…” I said, not totally following her logic. “Let’s talk about your cheating in this contest—”

  “NO!” she shouted suddenly, taking a few threatening steps toward me.

  Behind her, like dogs who’d been waiting for this signal, every Vulbite and gremlin surged with her. I realized if she even ran toward me, they’d all join in. It was like dealing with a wolf pack where she was the alpha.

  Fortunately, she turned away and began stalking around her shelter in a circle, looking pissed.

  “Um… what did I say—” I began.

  “You are the cheaters! You basics are the worst! The Cephalopods were chivalrous in comparison! We always knew where we stood with them. They were masters, we were slaves. Clarity was always maintained.”

  “I get it,” I said, becoming annoyed. “It’s okay for you to cheat—but not us. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  Gytha narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t like you. I don’t understand how Floramel could let herself serve a basic at all.”

  It was my turn to be suspicious. “That’s it then, isn’t it? You’re looking for a master—but you don’t really want it to be us. Earth men aren’t good enough to serve?”

  “No,” she said. “We’ve seen your kind many times before. We were once—according to legend—like you. But no longer. You’re weak. You’re a race of natural slaves. You aren’t our brothers. We’d prefer to serve another.”

  “I see…” I said, thinking about it.

  The Cephalopod Kingdom had created this place about a century ago—maybe longer. They’d brought humans from Dust World as breeding stock. They probably abducted humans before that to kick off the colony.

  From Gytha’s point of view, these captured humans that were brought here from time to time must have seemed weak. They were, after all, the ones the squids had been able to catch. They hadn’t been genetically altered and trained to serve as dogs of war.

  The squids had kept bringing them in to supply fresh genes which were needed to stabilize the herd. But Gytha and the others had never seen Earth’s best.

  “Ah…” I said as if I’d come to a great conclusion—which I sort of had. “I get it now! You’re talking about Dust Worlders!”

  Gytha’s eyes were slits again. “What are you saying?”

  I laughed. “Don’t you see? Those people were captured slaves. Cast-offs. Losers who couldn’t fight properly to defend themselves. We counted ourselves lucky every time those big ships came down and carted some of them away. They weren’t even worth feeding, if the truth were to be told.”

  Della would have pulled a knife on me if she could have heard what I was saying about her people, but fortunately, she’d died hours ago.

  Gytha stared into the distance. “That’s very interesting…” she said. “I can almost believe it… The circumstances fit… The weak are captured, the strong remain. You’ve shown you can fight. You’ve shown you’re strong…”

  I didn’t say a damned word. When yo
ur opponent is making your argument for you, that’s always the best policy.

  She looked at me suddenly, with a different light in her eyes.

  “Perhaps we’ve made a serious error,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “We’ve rigged the game. Earth can’t win.”

  “Hmm…” I said. “Then you’re right. We’ve got a big problem.”

  “We didn’t think we wanted to serve you,” Gytha told me. “You have to understand that.”

  “Oh, I get that part all right. You screwed up.”

  She glared at me.

  My wrist was flashing again, so I answered this time. I figured that if I didn’t, Graves might well launch an attack.

  “McGill here!” I said in a cheery tone.

  “McGill!? Why aren’t you answering your tapper, dammit?”

  Gytha shook her head and paced. “You can tell him to stop pretending you’re his slave. It’s an insult.”

  “Graves,” I said sternly, “I’m in the middle of an important negotiation. If you want to win this contest—I’m talking all the way to the end of it—you’ll stop interrupting and give me more time.”

  He was silent for a few angry seconds. “Fine. But if she ends up pregnant, McGill, the legion isn’t paying the bill. You hear me?”

  “McGill out,” I said, shutting down the connection.

  “What was that?” Gytha asked. “What did he say to you?”

  “Something disrespectful. I shall punish him severely when I return.”

  Gytha nodded, seeming to accept this.

  “I can end this contest,” she said. “You have the upper hand. The audience is watching, but discussion isn’t entirely unknown to us. They’re bored by it, but they’ll accept it.”

  “Uh…” I said, “okay, that sounds pretty good. Varus will go on to the final match-up, right? And there we’ll face another legion of Earth—we know about that, by the way.”

  She flapped her hand unconcernedly. “Of course you do. Earth set it up.”

  “Er… right. Anyway, Earth will fight Earth, and no matter who wins Blood World will serve us. How can there be a problem?”

  Gytha laughed at me. I hadn’t heard her laugh before. It was kind of a sexy laugh.