Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far)

by Casey Calouette

  Yamaguchi felt a strange sense of loss that the only thing that could slow the Sa’Ami heavies was mud.

  Hoffman took a shot to the shoulder from one of the rotary cannons. The sergeant fell backwards and scrambled away from the wall. Smoke rose up from the hole until orange fire suppressant poured out.

  “Hoffman, fall back!” Yamaguchi ordered.

  Calls echoed over the comms. The heavies were coming in at each side and the defenders couldn’t stop them.

  Was this his moment of failure? Yamaguchi always wondered what happened when units died. That final moment of collapse where the troops fled, or died in holes.

  The thought of surrender slipped through his mind, but he knew they’d not take prisoners. The Sa’Ami were here for conquest, this wasn’t a probing action. He was set on this path and they all knew it.

  He reached down for another slab of ammo. Empty. He had half a dozen shots left at most. The suit diagnostics showed that it was performing admirably, better than he thought he was.

  The heavies climbed onto the concrete apron and closed on the wide door to the complex.

  Yamaguchi ducked to the side and rattled a pair of shots. The rounds had ferocious power at such close range. The angle was steeper and he hit on the side armor. The heavy staggered under the blow. A wisp of blue smoke rose. It turned and poured fire from both barrels.

  The shells impacted against the concrete and sputtered through with cores of nickel and uranium. The dust poured down onto Yamaguchi as he slipped and fell on the yellow mud. He turned and rolled, sliding the weapon between his legs and waiting for the creature to appear.

  He couldn’t get up in time to reach cover. Even if he did, they’d blast him in the back.

  The first bulking shape appeared. The heavy strider was focusing its attention on the inside of the complex. Weapons fire rang from around the complex. The heavy paused as it sensed movement.

  Yamaguchi squeezed the trigger and fired the entire slab. He stabilized it by squeezing his knees tight. The weapon recoiled and shook him as it released the final few nanite rounds.

  Each round impacted with a flare of green and white. A spray of pressurized gas pulsed out as the strider turned. It was damaged, but not enough to stop.

  The bulky form paused in mid-motion and, instead of turning the weapons to face Yamaguchi, it pivoted its arm backwards. The cannons were vertical when the blast struck the beast. It slammed aside and collided with the concrete wall in a shower of flame.

  The second strider sidestepped and walked across the edge of the concrete. Projectiles burst forth from the cannons with a stream of anti-armor missiles popping out. It was engulfed in dull blue smoke.

  Then he saw it. The mechanical form thundered forward with a mass of alloy limbs splayed out each thundering wildly into the ground. The forward legs reached and pulled as the rear sets propelled it. It bounced off the side of one container and dropped into the sickly yellow mud.

  Mcrager charged forward. A burst of fire ripped out from a railgun turret mounted on his back.

  The air tasted of metal and violence.

  The heavy bowled back and Mcrager continued forward. “Get clear! Spider coming in!” he bellowed over the comms.

  Yamaguchi leapt up and took cover inside of the building. Down the lane the forms of two Sa’Ami power armor lay sprawled out. One of the slender striders quaked and shook in the center of the road. Dirty smoke poured out from the other.

  He ran as fast as he could towards the center of the complex. The ribbon loomed before him like a sentinel.

  “Ammo!” he cried out.

  Mullins tossed a pair of slabs through the air. His medic bag hung limply against his back.

  Yamaguchi snatched them and locked one into the weapon. He glanced back at the medic and gave as much of a nod as the power armor would allow.

  The sounds of violence blasted through the concrete walls. Yamaguchi slid on the floor and rested next to Private Kowalski.

  Mcrager pummeled a heavy strider with one of his legs. A single battery opened fire on the back. A burst of flame exploded from above.

  “Keep moving!” Yamaguchi yelled.

  The spider tore free from the mangled strider and sped along the other corner.

  Yamaguchi ran after with his weapon raised.

  A pair of heavy striders were waiting. Each hunched like an old beetle in the yellow mud. Mcrager took a wave of anti-armor missiles that spilled the spider onto its side. He struggled to rise. One leg arced wildly while a rear actuator spouted fluid.

  The railgun fired again, smashing against one of the heavies. The armored form tumbled backwards and came to rest in a smoldering heap.

  Yamaguchi sprinted with the weapon at his shoulder.

  Mcrager lurched forward with legs broken and torn. The spider was a shambling mess.

  The heavy released a last barrage of silver-pointed missiles. The pin-pricks of heat each homed in and delivered a terrible blow to the now immobile Mcrager.

  The heavy strider, distracted by the last barrage, didn’t see Yamaguchi until it was too late.

  He fired and kept the trigger depressed. The full load nanite rounds splashed and tore into the armor of the Sa’Ami heavy. Blistering heat reflected back as something burst inside of the strider.

  Yamaguchi blinked. Raindrops splashed onto his face. His chest felt like a shovel smacked it.

  The Sa’Ami heavy was a splintered mass. Something had detonated inside of it with a horrible fury.

  “Mcrager,” Yamaguchi said, as much a call as a plea. He struggled to stand.

  The shape of the spider lay with one good leg planted in the mud. Sooty smoke rolled out from the back of the armor. The rain sputtered and hissed as it landed on the barrel of the railgun.

  “Mcrager!” Yamaguchi called. He steadied himself on the leg of the spider. He released the armored cockpit door.

  Mcrager crumbled out and dropped onto the ground. His face was stained with soot and smoke.

  “Medic!” Yamaguchi shouted.

  The bells ceased ringing. The remaining soldiers came together and stood as Mullins knelt before Mcrager.

  “Sorry, LT,” Mullins said.

  Yamaguchi raised his weapon as splashes sounded from around a container. A menagerie of civilians, Marines, and sailors poured around the side. The mass was as undisciplined as one could be. Lieutenant Grace limped in behind everyone else.

  “LT!” Grace called out.

  The pair came together in a moment of silence. The rain came down in sheets that cleansed more than mud. Yamaguchi found it odd to watch the rain and yet not feel a drop.

  “Is that it?” Grace asked.

  A single gunshot echoed. The bell rang once more and was still.

  “Not yet it seems,” Yamaguchi said. “First squad with me, everyone else pair up and sweep. Ping me if you find trouble and wait for backup.”

  Yamaguchi ran through the rain with a small group of soldiers following. The remainder of the Malta’s crew and the militia followed as quickly as they could. They headed for where the bells had stopped.

  *

  Abraham tasted blood. His ears rang as he lay in the dirt. The mud was cool on his cheek.

  To his side a man lay face down with blood staining his beard. Raindrops rinsed the blood into thin streams.

  He blinked away the rain as it ran through his eyes. Behind him the man in the power armor held a stub nosed rifle with a dark hollow bore.

  The smell of burnt plastic and fear was evident even through the rain. The Sa’Ami shifted in place. His face mask was open. Inside a man darted his eyes back and forth. The carbon pads on his temples reflected a silver coating.

  Abraham looked up at the man. The eyes were filled with fear. The powered armor was unlike anything he had ever seen. It was graceful, beautiful, but terrible at the same time. It didn’t look manufactured but sculpted.

  The fear came back to Abraham when the man looked down. There was no compassion in t
he eyes. No hope.

  The power armor had crashed through the door and began tossing people outside. It clambered back out and shot a man. The man who now lay next to Abraham. Now the only sound was the rain.

  “Don’t look at me,” the Sa’Ami said slowly. His voice was a thick accent that Abraham didn’t know. He waved the muzzle towards Abraham.

  Abraham turned his head and lay his cheek back into the mud. The handle of the maul stuck out of the matted grass.

  The Sa’Ami stood in the rain and waited. Sheets of water beaded up on the suit and ran off like molten silver.

  Behind him the crowd peaked out from the doors of the church. The congregation stood and watched the man with the gun.

  Thomas stood at the forefront. His heavy beard covered any emotion.

  UC Soldiers arrived with face shields lowered. Each wore a visage of death. They spread out and came in slowly, steadily, with weapons at ready.

  A suit of armor walked straight at the Sa’Ami. His footsteps were deliberate and his body leaned forward. “Let them go,” his voice boomed loudly through the wet air.

  “Once I’m on the elevator,” the Sa’Ami said. He swept the blunt nose of weapon towards Abraham.

  Abraham stared at the coal darkness of the barrel and scooted himself as slowly as he could. Safety was away from the man. The maul.

  It was too far. He could leap but he was sure that he’d be shot.

  Thomas stood in front of the crowd with his eyes locked onto Abraham. He seemed to be ready to move, to jump, to do anything.

  The Sa’Ami was focused on the soldiers around him.

  Abraham saw his moment: the Sa’Ami had his back to the Anabaptists. He looked at his father, then back to the maul. He snapped his eyes back and forth. The work polished handle just barely stuck around the corner.

  Thomas saw and lifted his head slightly. He locked his eyes onto the handle and snapped them back to the Sa’Ami.

  “Far enough,” the Sa’Ami soldier said. He shifted his feet and turned slightly to face the oncoming soldiers.

  Abraham looked to the power armor and back to his father. If it was going to happen, it had to happen now. He pulsed his eyes and nodded his head at the maul.

  Thomas looked back at his son. He mouthed silently, “No.” Thomas stepped away from the congregation and laid his heavy hand onto the handle.

  The Sa’Ami soldier tensed and spun. His movement was fluid and graceful as the suit propelled him.

  “We forgive you,” Thomas said.

  The Sa’Ami leveled the barrel at Thomas and fired. It lashed out a greenish red flare that blew the large man aside.

  Thomas rolled softly onto his side and slipped gently into the grass. The maul dropped and stood upright for a split second. The heavy steel head wobbled and tipped sideways.

  “Drop it!” the UC Soldier shouted. He snapped the weapon up and came closer. He couldn’t shoot—the entire congregation stood behind the Sa’Ami.

  Abraham looked to his father and knew he was dead. His eyes had lost that edge. The edge that made him a leader of men. That edge that Abraham never had.

  Anger filled him and reddened his vision.

  The Sa’Ami spun and raised the weapon, pointing it towards the soldiers. “Stay back!”

  Abraham latched onto the maul. He heaved, lifted, and when the maul was high over his shoulder slammed it down with every bit of strength he had.

  The UC soldier stepped closer and growled.

  The Sa’Ami soldier swung the weapon a fraction of an inch and leveled the barrel at the soldier.

  The maul, powering with the rage of youth, smashed into the shoulder of the Sa’Ami soldier. The dull wedge sheared the armor plate aside just a fraction of an inch. White sparks leapt from the wound as if electrified. The entire shoulder shimmered as the nanites swam towards the shear.

  The Sa’Ami soldier dropped the rifle as the arm lost power. The facemask slammed open and the man inside howled.

  The UC Soldier rushed closer with the rifle raised. The other soldiers closed on the figure falling before them.

  Abraham staggered backwards and fell to his knees. His arms were numb. The recoil of the blow had jarred all of his nerves. He wanted to strike again, but he simply couldn’t do it.

  A strider, hidden beneath a low awning, pounced on one of the soldiers. The Sa’Ami creature was wounded, missing an arm and part of its head. With a terrible fury it slammed the soldier aside.

  The closest UC Soldier fired at the Sa’Ami. Slugs ricocheted off the crouching Sa’Ami and plowed into the walls of the church.

  Screams and moans burst from the door. The congregation fled. There was a crush as some ran inside and some fled out. Abraham tossed himself down and lay next to his father.

  The Sa’Ami soldier tried to stand but the shots, at such a close distance, punched holes right through. He staggered and fell onto his good arm before collapsing. Thin trails of blue smoke rose into the rain.

  The strider rolled and tumbled and was shot down by the other soldiers. More fire leapt at it from behind as Marines and sailors arrived with the Maronite militia.

  Wails and cries came from the church. A UC medic rushed out of the group and pushed his way inside. He gave no more than a quick glance at Thomas.

  Abraham stood slowly and looked down to his father. He’d betrayed him. He’d betrayed everything he stood for. The one thing he wanted to do on his own and he couldn’t do it. His father died trying to keep him alive.

  Those that came out of the church looked at Abraham and turned away. Two men came forward and grasped Thomas under the arms and carried him inside.

  Abraham took a step and knew it was wrong. His father had, as his last act, renounced any violence. Had he died before seeing Abraham turn his back on that? He realized his father knew. He hadn’t forgiven the Sa’Ami, but Abraham.

  Men and women streamed from the church and raced away. The soldiers and Marines stood in silence.

  Maronites rushed into the church, casting weapons aside, and helped with the wounded and the dead. The bonds that held family and community together were strengthened. Maronite looked to Anabaptist and consoled.

  Abraham turned from it all and took a step away. His father was dead because of him. His soul felt empty. Loss flowed over him and tears came.

  A gunshot rang out. The strider squirmed and shivered before being still.

  One of the UC Soldiers leaned down in front of the Sa’Ami. He nodded and kicked the rifle away. The maul was still wedged into the armor. “I’m sorry,” he said to Abraham.

  The soldiers turned and ran into the city. Gunshots still sounded through the air.

  “Let’s move!” a slender man shouted. The man turned and limped back towards the elevator. The sailors and Marines followed behind leaving the Maronites with the Anabaptists.

  Abraham stood alone. Tears mixed with the rain. He looked at the pack heading to the elevator and followed behind. The church seemed closed to him. He was off to find another way.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Debris

  They brought Archie to the room where he tackled Asa. The two guards held baton and looked eager to use them.

  His body ached. All he wanted to do was sleep. Instead he was watching the screen. He tried not to watch, kept his eyes on the opposite wall, but he kept glancing at it.

  When he came in the screen was showing silent feeds of the Sa’Ami on the planet below. The movement was fast and disorienting. The camera view slewed and spun, tumbled and rolled. He had to look away and get his bearings. The striders were like acrobats.

  A suit of power armor appeared on the screen and blasted the strider down. The camera was live long enough to show it sprint away and launch into cover.

  Archie sat up and began to pay attention.

  Another feed winked out. A suit of powered armor leapt down from the corrugated roof of a building. He studied the armor. The edges were paneled and modular. The joints looked delicate but the
strength they showed was immense.

  He felt a particular point of pride when the face showed. A dull white skull was painted on the front.

  Archie had trained with a few different styles of armor. Power armor was theoretical but not functional. At least not that he’d seen. This was something new.

  Previous doctrine went a different direction and explored augmenting wounded soldiers and Marines. He had seen the results of the project and wasn’t comfortable with the conclusion.

  Striders seemed like the next big development. The last he’d heard at Quantico Orbital was striders. Striders and drones. But they didn’t have enough, they were complex, finicky, and took an amazingly gifted controller. Not everyone wanted implanted carbon pads.

  He knew the wish was to have striders and drones that were totally autonomous. They tried, he’d participated in the simulations. The AI, while gifted, wasn’t able to beat out humans. They would win on occasion, but statistically it was a failure.

  The guards became silent as more feeds winked away. The action became focused around the elevator complex. Fire showered down from the blocky complex onto the Sa’Ami but they continued to move forward.

  The soldiers firing were like ghosts as they danced away from the heavy fire. Archie knew how this went. It was all fun and games until the armor came out—or in this case, heavy striders.

  He leaned back and looked at the guards. They were both focused on the screen. Archie wondered if he’d have time to tackle one and disable the other. What then? Hole up in a room and get shot?

  Captain Asa leaned in the door with her arms across her chest. She watched the screen and snapped an eye to Archie. “What do you think, Major? Your forces are surrounded.”

  “That simplifies things.”

  Asa snorted.

  It didn’t look good. The heavies were converging. All of the feeds that cycled showed the same thing: an approaching apron of concrete and the blocky elevator complex.

  Archie shifted in his chair. His spirits wavered. Watching one defeat was tough enough. He looked to Asa. She was preoccupied with a tablet in her palm.