by Allen Steele
What was this? I could bunny-hop, too, of course, but never so high or so far. As the fleas came closer, I saw that there were only six. We had them outnumbered by two-to-one...yet there was something in the way that they moved that made me shiver.
Within minutes, the six figures crossed the distance between the freighter and the station. As they crossed the landing pad, we got our first good look at our enemy. When I saw what they were wearing, I suddenly realized that numerical superiority didn't matter.
They were wearing Cyclops suits.
Any kid who'd ever played a war game on his pad knew what they were: powered armor for space combat, a military spin-off of the EVA gear originally designed for the International Jupiter Expedition. The suits were over seven feet tall and resembled eggs that had sprouted arms and legs; no helmets or faceplates, but instead a smooth, round carapace with a periscope jutting from the top hatch. Each Cyclops had its own rocket-pack, enabling the soldier who wore--or rather, drove--the suit to jump as much as a hundred feet in lunar gravity. Even their weapons were different: shoulder-mounted carbines, looking like fat sausages, positioned on a swivel beside the periscope.
I fought a sudden urge to pee in my suit. Perhaps we should have expected that the Marines would be wearing powered armor, but we didn't, and that was our mistake. This was the enemy, and he'd come to kick our ass.
The Cyclops team came to a halt just past the landing pad: six giants, facing a barricade hastily built by a handful of pygmies. They didn't come any closer, though. A few seconds went by, then I heard an unfamiliar voice in my headphones:
"Cabeus Station, do you copy? Over." A pause, just long enough for me to glance at my heads-up display and see that the speaker was using Channel One. "Cabeus Station, this is Liberty Force One. Respond at once. Over."
Mikel came over the comlink. "Liberty Force One, this is Apollo Lunar Search and Rescue. You're intruding on a facility operated and protected by the International Space Coalition. Please return to your craft at once."
Another pause, then the voice returned. "Apollo SAR, we're here to take possession of this station in the name of the United States of America. Surrender immediately."
A short beep, then Mikel spoke to us on Channel Three: "I'm going to try to negotiate." He switched back to Channel One: "I'm sorry, but we don't recognize the authority of the United States to take control of this station. I should also warn you that you're greatly outnumbered. Any attempt to take this facility by force would be a grave error. Again, return to your craft and once and leave." He paused, then added, "This is your final warning."
For a few moments, there was no response. I slowly raised my carbine, braced it against the robot's upper platform, and took aim upon the nearest Cyclops. As the red crosshairs was painted on the center of the suit, I noticed that it was stenciled with a cartoon figure of a penguin wearing a top-hat and carrying a walking stick. But no American flag. Odd...
"Okay, I understand." When the Cyclops team leader spoke again, his tone a little less formal. "Look, maybe we ought to talk this over before anyone gets hurt. Would you be willing to discuss this?"
"Yes, I believe that can be done," Mikel said.
I may have been wearing a moonsuit, but that didn't stop me from smelling a rat. "Don't trust him, Mikel," I blurted out. "He's up to something."
"Stand down, Ranger. If they want to talk, then it's in our best interest to do so." Mikel hesitated. "Look sharp. I'm going out there." Then he switched back to Channel One: "Coming out to speak with you, Liberty One."
"Sure. Ready when you are." The Cyclops leader sounded positively avuncular.
Don't do it, I thought, but Mikel was already emerging from cover. Gun pointed at the ground, he stepped out from behind the water tank where he and Toji had hidden.
Walking slowly, careful not to seem menacing, he approached the row of Cyclops soldiers waiting for him.
He was about halfway there when the one in the middle shot him.
There was no gunshot, no muzzle flash. I heard a thin, ragged crack through the comlink as the Cyclops's machine gun shattered Mikel's faceplate. Tiny shards of glass sprayed outward from his helmet, carried by the abrupt decompression of his moonsuit. Mikel collapsed, hitting the ground face-first, raising a small cloud of dust. They had never intended to negotiate.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Greg screamed "Fire!" and all hell broke loose.
My gun was already trained on the Cyclops nearest me. I aimed at the stupid penguin in the middle of his chest and curled the index finger of my right hand, but my target was no longer there. Penguin had fired his rocket pack; his leap carried him up and away before my bullets could reach him.
"Arthur!" I yelled. "Track and lock onto target!"
"Which one, Jamey?" As always, Arthur's voice was calm and unruffled.
Looking up, I saw Penguin a dozen feet or so above the ground, just starting to come down again. I jerked my carbine toward him. "That one!"
I fixed my red crosshairs fixed upon Penguin, but they had barely flashed to indicate that I had a lock-on when the Cyclops suddenly changed position. Penguin had used his rockets again to get out from under my sights before I had a chance to fire. He came down about forty feet away, then lunged to the left when I tried to track him.
"Damn it!" Greg shouted. "They've got countermeasures!"
I didn't have time to ask what he meant by that. Penguin had evaded me, but when I started to step out from behind the mining robot, a bullet clipped the platform fender, forcing me back under cover. The shot had come from another Cyclops; I caught a glimpse of a happy-looking raven on its chest as I ducked behind the 'bot again.
"Fire at will!" Mahmoud cried, sounding like he was on the verge of panic. "Fire at will! Pick someone and...ah!"
I couldn't tell whether or not he'd been hit, nor did I really care. Just then, I had problems of my own. Penguin was coming at Greg and me, bouncing from one foot to another, dodging left and right as he closed the distance between us. My crosshairs were useless; every time I had him in my sights, he'd dance away, almost as if he knew...
Right. Of course he did. I suddenly realized what Greg meant. The Cyclops suits were equipped with electronic countermeasures which would detect a lock-on by our carbines' targeting systems. All Penguin had to do was move when he heard the warning and my bullets would never find him.
"Arthur! Disengage targeting system! Go to manual!"
"Jamey, are you sure you...?"
"Yes! Do it!"
The crosshairs vanished; I was now on manual fire control, dependent on nothing more than my own two eyes. Penguin was less than ten yards away. He stopped moving, and the sausage-like machine gun on his shoulder swiveled toward me. By then, though, I'd raised my gun and was using a small knob at the end of its barrel as an improvised sight. When Penguin didn't jump away again, I curled my forefinger around the trigger and kept it there.
Penguin staggered backward beneath my salvo. I couldn't tell whether my bullets had fully penetrated his thick armor, but I must have hit something vital because his gun suddenly tilted upward. All I knew was that he couldn't run from me, nor could he retaliate. Screaming in rage, I kept firing, and suddenly a white jet of mist spewed from the center of his top hatch. Penguin didn't fall, but his arms went limp at his sides as he sagged upon his thick legs. Even if the man inside the armor wasn't dead, it didn't look as if he was going to give me any more trouble.
"Got one!" I shouted, then I looked around to see that Greg was no longer beside me. He was crouched at the other end of the robot, firing at Raven as he tried to come at us from around the 'bot. "Greg! Switch off your...!"
"I know! I know!" His gun swept back and forth as he sought to get a lock on his target. "Get this guy off me!"
The Cyclops team had broken formation. Raven was the nearest, now that Penguin was down, and he was using his rockets to dodge Greg's bullets. I pointed my carbine at him and squeezed the trigger, but I got off only a coupl
e of shots before my weapon abruptly went dead.
"You are out of ammunition, Jamey," Arthur said.
Until then, I hadn't realized that I used up an entire ammo drum taking down Penguin. Swearing, I bolted for the spare drums. They lay on the ground beside the robot's treads, but I'd barely bent over to grab one when something slammed into my back.
For a horrifying second, I thought I'd been struck by a bullet. Then a piece of the robot's high-gain antenna fell next to me, and I realized what had happened. Raven had hit the 'bot by mistake, clipping off its antenna. That meant that Raven was trying to get me, too. Sure enough, when I tried to reach for the ammo drum, bullets pocked the grey dust beside the drum, forcing me to yank back my hand.
"Can't help you, Greg!" I shouted, kneeling beside the robot to use it a shield. "You've gotta...!"
"Aw, damn it!" he snarled, and then he bolted out from behind the 'bot. "Somebody cover me!"
From where I was crouched, I couldn't tell what was happening to him. But I could see everything else that was going on. The Cyclops team were coming at us from all sides, the five remaining soldiers doing their best to break through the barricades. Logan and Nicole were fighting back to back, each covering the other's rear, while Toji tried to keep the water tank between him and a Cyclops emblazoned with a bald eagle. Farther away, other Rangers fired, ran, ducked, or did whatever else they could to stay alive.
The battle was fought in almost total silence. No gunfire, no ricochets, no explosions. The only thing I heard where the voices of my friends. For a second or two, I had a sense of being disconnected from reality; the helmet faceplate between me and everything else made it seem as if I was simply watching a vid with its volume turned down low.
"Jamey! Where the hell are you?"
Greg's voice snapped me out of it. I reached again for the ammo drum and this time was able to grab it. I ejected the spent drum, slapped the new one into place, and charged out from behind the robot.
Raven saw me coming. His shoulder gun swiveled in my direction, but I fired before he did. My aim wasn't good, but my shots distracted him from Greg and forced him to jump away. Greg and I concentrated our fire on him, and although the Cyclops was in midair, one of us managed to hit his rocket pack. A lucky shot. Liquid oxygen spewed from its fuel tank as a crystalline shower that froze instantly. Raven fell to the ground; something must have gone seriously wrong with his armor, because its hatch sprang open and a figure in a skinsuit began to scramble out.
Two Cyclops down. I didn't have time to savor our victory, though. Four more Cyclops were still active. I glanced at Greg. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. Thanks for..."
"Logan!"
That was Nicole. I turned about just in time to see Logan fall backward from the robot the two of them were using for cover. Eagle had broken off his attack on Toji and was now hovering about ten feet above the 'bot. Logan lay on his side, left hand groping at his suit's chest plate. Through my headset, I could make out his voice: "Nicole...I...I..."
"Hold on!" Ignoring the Cyclops leader, Nicole rushed toward him.
Eagle wasn't about to give her a chance to tend to a wounded comrade. Settling to the ground behind Nicole, the Cyclops stamped toward her and Logan, his gun pivoting about to lock on them.
"Nicole!" I yelled as I bolted toward them. "Get out of...!"
All of a sudden, Eagle seemed to forget about my friends. He stopped and turned around, and in that instant, a white shaft beam of light lanced down from above, capturing him in its glare. Eagle's machine gun turned toward its source, but before the Cyclops could fire, it seemed as if a windstorm came out of nowhere to sweep a cloud of regolith upon him.
"Eat my dust!" Gordie yelled.
As Eagle staggered back, I glanced up to see the Pegasus descending upon Cabeus Station. The transport might be unarmed, but Gordie was far from helpless; he was using the VTOLs to whip up a dust storm. Blinded by the swirling regolith, his periscope and targeting systems disabled, Eagle lurched away from Logan and Nicole.
"Take him out!" Gordie shouted.
Greg and I raced toward Eagle, but before we could get to him, another Cyclops turned its carbine upon us. I heard Greg cry out, but I didn't stop running until I reached the 'bot. Putting it between me and the second Cyclops, I crouched and aimed at Eagle. But my gun alone wasn't enough to drop him; my bullets bounced off his armor, and all they did was let him know that he was under attack.
Eagle turned toward me, and I barely had time to duck back behind the robot before his machine gun chipped paint from its side. I swore and scrambled backward, and in that second realized that the scene had become dark again.
Gordie was no longer covering me. The Pegasus had moved to another part of the battle, providing air support for the other Rangers. That meant I was exposed, though...and with Mikel dead, both Logan and Greg down, and Toji nowhere to be seen, that left only Nicole and me to defend ourselves against two Cyclops.
"Die, you bastard!" Nicole screamed, and I looked around to see that she'd returned to her feet. Logan lay still upon the ground and she stood above him to opened fire upon Eagle. "Die! Die!"
Eagle turned toward her. Now was my chance. I leaped out from behind the robot, took aim at the Cyclops's vulnerable point, the rocket pack on his back. This time, I didn't miss; my bullets ruptured its fuel tank and Eagle fell back from Nicole, arms flailing about.
Eagle was down, or at least no longer a threat. I was about to rush forward to help Logan when there was a bright flash to my left. The explosion pitched me off my feet; I sailed several yards, came down hard on my right side. There was a violent pain as my arm twisted in an awkward direction, and I yelped as warning lights flashed on my heads-up display.
"Jamey, you've lost your carbine," Arthur said, still irritatingly calm.
He was right. I no longer had my gun. Where it had fallen, I didn't know. But it wasn't in my hands anymore.
Hissing between my teeth, I rolled over to try to get up. I knew what had happened. In the heat of the moment, I'd forgotten the Cyclops that had attacked Greg and me.
He stood only a dozen feet away, looming above me like an avenging golem. His first shot had missed me and hit the robot instead, causing a fuel cell to explode. But now that I was on the ground, unarmed and helpless, he had a clear shot.
He marched closer, his machine gun tilting toward me. He wanted point-blank range to finish me off. As he approached, I made out the emblem on his chest: a goose, cross-eyed and with a long red tongue hanging out of its bill. What kind of a jerk would put that on his suit? I wondered, even as I realized that this would probably be the last thing I'd ever see.
"Jamey!" Nicole yelled. "Duck!"
"Duck?" In my last moment of life, I was giddy with fear. "Who cares about Duck? It's Goose who's going to..."
And then Goose exploded.
One moment, he was there. The next, he was a ball of fire, a thing that silently detonated where he once stood. I managed to put my head down and cover my faceplate with my left arm before twisted pieces of Cyclops armor rained down around me. Something hit the top of my helmet, stunning me for a moment; when I looked up again, I saw that it was a severed arm, frozen blood turning black at the twisted edges of an armored sleeve.
I stared at the arm in disbelief, but I didn't have time to wonder what had just happened to its former owner because a new voice came through my headphones: "American military forces, cease fire and surrender!"
What the hell? Crawling to my hands and knees, I looked around to see the bright beams of helmet lamps. Figures in moonsuits were advancing toward us from just beyond the landing pad. It was hard to tell just then how many there were, but there seemed to be a dozen or more.
A sudden flash of light from their midst, then something shot overhead. I barely recognized it as a mortar rocket before it exploded several hundred feet away. Another Cyclops had met Goose's fate.
"This is your last warning! Surrender at once or be annihilat
ed!"
It seemed as if everything went still. But not silent; I could hear Nicole saying Logan's name over and over, her voice harsh and choked with tears. I clambered to my feet and started toward them, then realized that I might draw fire from our rescuers, whoever they were. But I couldn't leave her and Logan alone, so I paused to switch on my helmet lamp, hoping that its light would distinguish me from a Cyclops, and bounced over to their side.
Logan lay where he'd fallen. As soon I got near, I saw where a bullet had punched through his moonsuit. Nicole was crouched over him, her hands on his shoulders. She was trying to shake him awake, but when the beam from my helmet touched his face, I saw that his eyes were closed and his mouth was sagging open.
Bending down beside her, I shoved Nicole aside and ran a diagnostic cord to Logan's suit. "Download biofeedback, Arthur!" I snapped, and a moment later Logan's suit was linked to mine, his vital signs appearing upon my heads-up display.
It took a second for me to realize the significance of all those flat red lines. I was still staring at them in disbelief when a voice came through my headphones.
"Who's in charge here? Who is your commanding officer?"
I didn't look up. "I dunno...someone, I guess."
"Is that person dead?" I dully recognized the voice as being the same one which had demanded the Cyclops team's surrender.
Unwilling to answer that question, I raised my eyes. A figure in a moonsuit that looked a bit different than mine stood a few feet away, a heavy-looking rifle cradled in his hands. Until then, I'd somehow assumed that our rescuers were other Rangers, so it took a moment for me to recognize the emblem on the front of his suit--a red star against a green background--for what it was.
The flag of the Pacific Socialist Union.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Colonel Thahn Kim, commander of the People's Lunar Defense Force." A not-unkind face regarded me with sympathy from behind a faceplate. "Was that a friend of yours?"