“You’re full of shit, Greer,” Punjav said.
Greer shrugged and smiled. “Take it or leave it, eh? I’m telling you, though.” He sat at the table and picked at something stubborn in his teeth. He definitely looked smug as eyes were still on him.
William walked over to the edge of the galley and dropped off his platter. Paulo stood nearby waiting for his food. “Paulo, right?”
“Hmm? Yes, sir?”
“Is that story bullshit?”
Paulo looked back to Greer and smiled slightly. “The details always change, but he swears it’s the truth.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think he likes telling that story.” Paulo turned and picked up a large cup. “Now if you’ll excuse me, sir.”
The sounds slowly edged back to rowdy as the Marines continued the game. William watched. The Marines were devilishly overseeing the AI and giving the Army one hell of a battle.
“XO?” Greer asked with a slight smile.
William looked up. “What is it, Greer?”
Greer scanned his table with a mischievous eye. “Any opportunity for some shore time when we arrive on Canaan?”
William chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not sure how much excitement you’ll find.”
Greer wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean, sir?”
“The colony is mostly Western Anabaptists and Maronite Christians.”
Greer blinked with his mouth open. “Western Anabaptists? Maronites?”
“One is an offshoot of the Amish, the other a sect of Orthodox Christians,” William replied.
Greer looked back around his table with a look of pure sadness. “Do they drink?”
William shrugged. “I’m not quite sure. Can’t say I know much about either. But in regards to shore leave, I’ll speak with the Captain.”
Greer sighed.
“Don’t worry Greer, you can always make up a good story about not getting drunk on a planet you didn’t get to visit, right?” Punjav said.
Greer glared back and sunk into his seat.
*
The suit stunk of old sweat and the tang of polyester worn a few times too many. It was held rigid as if a giant weight was strapped to it. Yamaguchi pushed and tried to stretch his arms and legs, feeling nothing but leaden deadness. His display winked red and told him in no uncertain terms that he was dead.
With a final ominous tone the simulation ended. The joints relaxed and the suit became flexible once more. The results scrolled across the screen and it wasn’t pretty. His landing team had, once again, been trounced by a combination of the AI and the Marines in the commons area. Publicly trounced.
He was glad the comms weren’t open. His breath slowed and he pushed the anger back. This was new to everyone. “Let’s do it again, keep your range from the striders, ignore the infantry, and push towards the objective. Stay in pairs, dammit—that’s you Kowalski, just like without the suits. Got it?”
It felt almost right inside the suit, almost like the feedback really worked properly. But it didn’t. Everything was out of sync by just a moment, a fraction of a second, enough to hit walls or miss targets. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the simulation and was the suits themselves.
The command screen flickered by and he engaged the simulation. It counted down and he was on the ground, moving through high grass and pushing towards the objective. For now it was a red icon that burned on the edge of the map.
The sound of breathing and an occasional curse was all that was heard. The coordination in the squads was visible to each on the overhead display. A combination of implanted hardware and nanites linked and displayed everyone. Details were rendered and cover highlighted.
From the outside each of the armored suits were suspended from heavy cordage. The same mechanisms that propelled them on the ground offered resistance and feedback for a very real simulation. They swayed and danced like marionettes of a deadly purpose.
“Launch the first flight of drones,” Yamaguchi ordered. He keyed the order with his eyes. The back of the suit shuddered. A stream of drones popped out and disappeared. Each of the drones winked and a window opened. Now he had eyes, but more than he could watch.
“Swing in past that warehouse, LT, good cover on the other side,” Sergeant Bale said.
Yamaguchi scanned the display quickly and saw the cover. He shifted his slow loping gait and tucked in along a corrugated warehouse. The drones ebbed above and displayed the top, the sides, and around the corner. All was clear.
The squads moved up in a seesaw motion in front of him. Pairs of the suits struggled in bursts of speed before holding a moment. He ticked paths, spots, orders, all silently.
“Movement, G5,” Sergeant Craig called out in a low monotone.
A yellow icon winked on Yamaguchi’s display. He watched from Craig’s suit and saw the form of a Strider duck back inside of a building.
“Torch it.” He continued forward.
“On the flank!” Corporal Paco cried.
The first of the friendly icons faded from green to a dull red.
“First squad wheel over and reinforce that edge!” He took a deep breath and dispatched a drone. There was a gap coming in the center. He set the waypoint marker and passed through the industrial landscape to reach it.
They had a simulation of what the surface of Canaan looked like, as accurately as a full LIDAR scan was capable of. Rocks, hummocks, and even garbage dumpsters were all in the proper locations.
A shallow canal ran like a gash across the landscape. Gritty yellow weeds clung tenaciously to the edge with chunks of concrete stuck on the edge. The only cover was an old retaining wall sheathed in chain link and cobble.
“Where are they?” Craig asked.
Yamaguchi bit his lip and watched. The drones ranged over and around without sighting anything. The lone strider they had seen was, he assumed, smoked. The left flank dodged outwards and searched for whatever had taken Paco.
He rose up and peeked around the edge of the cobble wall and scanned past the canal. The squad on the left, barely 500 meters away, started moving back towards the objective. But now there was a gap, a nasty gap.
“Spread out the drones, we need to cover that gap.” He drew a line with his eyes on the map. Tiny diamonds fluttered across the tactical display and headed for the central zone.
He saw it just as it happened. The drones began to sweep when the hostiles lit up in the zone. Infantry squads emerged from cover and began to fire on their best defense against the slender striders.
“Craig, keep moving in, Sergeant Hoffman, start moving to my position.” Yamaguchi shifted and watched. The squads moved and adjusted. The drones were disappearing as fast as the enemy infantry.
He leaned around the edge and caught something moving. Something moving in the canal. He blinked and focused. The muddy water parted and eddied as if a fish was swimming beneath the surface. If they were using the canal they could slide in and catch the squad on the back side without drone support.
“They’re swimming in the canal! All drones to the canal, hover!” He licked his lips and watched the remaining icons shift and slide into a straight line. If they weren’t there he lost both his recon and his defenses. “Hoffman, hit the infantry.”
The blocky FN Herstal rifle unlocked from his left arm with a whine of charging capacitors. The camera display on the arm opened another window. He slid the barrel around the wall and scanned into the canal. Movement. Click. Fire.
The recoil pushed his arm back roughly as the charged slug exploded into the muddy water. The line of nanite propelled rounds impacted in geysers of brown and frothy white. He paused. Dimples and foam spread and lapped against the side of the canal. Was it a fish?
The Sa’Ami striders burst out of the water and clawed up the bank. In a flash they tumbled back down as the drones delivered a punishing wave of projectiles from above. They flailed back into the muddy water and lashed out with searing projectiles t
hat felled the drone cover.
The FN resumed fire while the rear mounted launcher thudded projectiles into the water. He snapped a quick glance and saw the squads coming together. Like an iron claw they were closing on the trapped striders. Trapped between two walls of mud and a dirty river bottom.
A flash and a roar rocked his display. The dreaded heaviness returned. Something hit him, something hit him hard. The comms crackled and chaos reined. As before, he was left with an echo and roar in his ears.
He thrashed and pushed and screamed as loudly as he could. The cocoon of alloy and steel held him close. Not a single sound of rage was released. The sweat ran down his face past the fleece mops and into his eyes. This was it. Him, his platoon, his failure, his future. The CO was half a star system away and had entrusted him to hold. They were the tip of the lance.
To hell with the fresh armor suits. He preferred the old style. Heavy, but at least he could move right. These just felt wrong. Out of the labs, into the ships, and now towards a war. This, he thought, better be enough to counter the Sa’Ami striders. What the UC lacked in striders they hoped to counter with powered armor.
The focus returned as the display smoothed out and showed the final objective. Green icons hovered on the red diamond. His men. Holy shit, they did it. Maybe the tip of the spear wasn’t as dull as he thought.
“LT, we brought it home!” Sergeant Craig boasted.
Only a few suits survived. Ragged patches of dull red icons were scattered near the canal and in a line all the way to the objective. He didn’t feel so bad now.
“All right. We’re packing it up for now. Everyone stretch out and meet back here in an hour.” Yamaguchi popped the release. Cold air—cold relative to the inside of the suit, gushed in. His entire body was drenched in perspiration. He shivered as he slid himself out.
Men dropped gently from the hovering suits and blinked away the bright light. All were soaked with sweat. In moments, the smell rolled across the entire area.
Yamaguchi stood and stretched as he nodded with as triumphant a face as he could muster. His hand slid on the stiff armored foot, hoping they performed better on the ground. The small armor platoon grouped up and went to jeer back at the Marines in the commons.
*
William laid the tablet on the table and looked around the wardroom. The meeting was dragging and it had just begun.
The Bulgarian Marine, Lieutenant Zhenya Zinkov, was stuttering. Again. “T-t-t-t-” he stopped, took a breath and wrinkled his brow. “The squad will be ready to board, Mr. Grace.” The pace of the words was slow and methodical. If he tried to speed up his speech, as he wanted to, it snarled and choked in his throat.
William liked him. The Bulgarian put his jumbo sized head down and tackled any task he was given. Serious, quiet, like a sentinel of old. Though in a lively conversation he would drive people insane.
“Very good, the Captain should be in any moment.”
Zinkov nodded, as he preferred to do, and sat with his hands flat on the table.
William squirmed a bit on the narrow bench. He looked down and swiped at the tablet. Each page showed a different thing he had submitted and was awaiting approval. He snapped his eyes up. Zinkov was glancing down without lowering his head. William cleared his throat.
Zinkov smiled and leaned back against the bulkhead. “W-w-w-w-what are you working on, XO?”
“Personnel assignments, some maintenance tasks, and trying to find out who is getting into the entertainment ration.” William frowned at the data leak. Someone was getting into the daily entertainment feed early.
“Eh-eh-eh-early? Why?”
“There’s two hours of sports every day. The data system has the results stored away. Someone is betting, I think.”
Zinkov nodded. “Find the winner.”
William noticed the lack of a stutter. The man had a point. “The money?”
“N-n-n-no. The winner, it might not be money.”
William nodded slowly. Maybe the Bulgarian was on to something. “Thanks Zinkov.”
The Bulgarian smiled widely. His teeth showed in a grill of white and straight lines.
The door slid open silently and Captain Khan entered, Midshipman Lebeau following behind him.
William pictured Tik whenever he saw Lebeau. The woman had not a speck of hair on her skull, but her eyebrows were so blond as to be almost white. “Captain, Ms. Lebeau.”
“Let’s make it quick Mr. Grace. We blink into the Cerberus system within the next hour.” Captain Khan sat and smoothed the front of her uniform. Her eyes were hard and professional. She gave Zinkov a slight nod.
“Very well. For the fuel transfer we’ll run the second shift Engineering crew with Mr. Zinkov securing the launch area. Battle stations I assume, ma’am?” William asked as he glanced down at the tablet.
“Please Mr. Grace. I’d like all watches to step it up. I’m to be alerted anytime anything is out of the ordinary and before every blink or maneuver.” Khan said. She looked over to Lebeau. “Midshipman, you’ll have the off watches that myself or Mr. Grace aren’t covering. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lebeau said in a husky voice.
William glanced over towards Lebeau. She stared down at the tablet silently. He glanced at Zinkov. The Marine sat at attention. “Mr. Zinkov, have you anything to add?”
“N-n-n-n-” Zinkov stopped and closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell silently. “No, sir.”
The meeting broke and the command group walked out in silence. William followed behind Lebeau and missed the days of being a Midshipman. He had hoped to get a chance to speak with Khan about his submissions but decided to wait until after the blink.
The Malta secured all stations, primed for combat, and made the next blink.
He stood on the bridge in silence. The Captain stood with her hands behind her back and watched as the screen came alive. Contacts blinked in as transponders were noted and matched. Heavy mining. Asteroids. Zero-G Refineries. And not so much as a planet worth inhabiting. The three planets near the center of the system matched Venus and Mars with nothing in that delicate sweet zone except a trail of rocky debris.
The slender trace of the blinks brought them to a few AUs of the star before they would branch out. The fueling station was on the outlet. Another day of burning through the system and they would top off for a few years in space.
“Mr. Grace, find the Chief and double check the weapons systems. The Persephone is on patrol in system, but I want to have a few claws of our own.” Captain Khan turned her gaze back to the ellipses and arcs that spread out on the map.
William walked out to find the Chief and take a tour.
CHAPTER SIX
Entry
The Malta slid through the void and plunged in ever shortening blinks. As the gravity well steepened, the distance shrunk until it was more effective to burn under conventional drive. The ship cut an arc across the gravity well just outside the orbit of the third planet. The dusty gray ball was like a weather beaten toy.
The destination was a small transfer station on the outbound vector. The station contained supplies that any respectable asteroid harvester or transiting starship could use. Ice. Fuel. Spare Parts. Datacores of entertainment. Drugs and alcohol. The station had a contract to supply Naval vessels but no garrison force.
“Mr. Grace, hail the station, see which berth is open.” Captain Khan shifted in her chair.
William leaned forward towards the console and keyed himself into the station comm channel. A dull static hissed back with an automated message. A high pitched voice stated services, inventory, and a satisfaction guarantee. It paused and continued in Japanese.
“Transfer station, this is the UC ship Malta.” He listened and heard the same reply. “Cerberus Dythco, this is the Malta, we’d like docking instructions.”
“Dythco is proud to offer fuel pellets for Brooks, Siemens, GE, Hyundai, and Zyminski drives. We also have a full inventory of foodstuffs! Ask us about our
fresh grown mushrooms! Yum!”
“Ma’am, nothing but an automated response.” William turned the volume down and set his query to repeat every thirty seconds.
“Mr. Zinkov,” Captain Khan called out. She didn’t wait for him to reply. “Your Marines are a go. We’ll be waiting for you to clear.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sergeant Goldstein, the UC Marine Platoon Sergeant, replied.
The Malta powered in slowly nudging itself ever closer to the form of the Dythco transfer station. Lights winked in a bright line on the upper edge of the station. A docking ring glowed blue as the Malta edged into range.
“Anything, Mr. Grace?”
“No, ma’am, nothing.”
“Engineering, prep to burn.” Captain Khan leaned forward in her chair.
The helmet cameras of the Marines expanded on the main view. All that could be seen was the back of helmets and the airlock door.
“Zinkov, in thirty seconds the rings will lock. You’re going in.”
William slid his hands on the console. The docking routine counted down until a green light blinked. “We’re docked, ma’am.”
“Mr. Zinkov, you’re a go.”
The Marines locked onto the hatch and popped it with a gentle hiss. The airlock was large, cargo sized, and well lit. They tossed a box into the center and retreated backwards. The airlock hissed and closed, leaving the box inside.
“I want those feeds, Mr. Grace,” Captain Khan said.
“On the left.” William pointed to an unused screen.
The drone feed flickered into view. The small constructs darted to the edge of the airlock door and waited for the pressure to equalize. The screen bounced slightly from the left to right.
“Can you fix the feed?”
“No, ma’am, the drone is getting ready to move inside.”
The airlock irised open. A wide open cargo area expanded beyond. Deep bays disappeared into darkness. Large cases, crates, and containers were arrayed throughout the hold.
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