Steel Apocalypse

by Rodney Hartman

  She laughed, and it was full of humor. Suddenly she looked more like an agent of heaven than one of hell. “Oh, Jake…may I call you, Jake? I like you. I really do. I’ve read your file. You’re loyal; braver than your own good more often than not; a good soldier; and not bad looking either.” She gave a seemingly genuine smile. “I’ve no intention of doing anything as barbaric as killing you. The Gegormas, on the other hand, aren’t as finicky.” She picked the thumbnail-sized piece of metal out of her palm and held it between two fingers. “This container holds two billion inactivated tele-bots. They’re inactivated because the security around Lastreo has spotted and destroyed any activated tele-bots we’ve tried to send in. I won’t bother telling you how many of our agents have died trying to infiltrate the Gegormas’ organization.” She held the container out to Jake.

  Being in the mercenaries for four years, Jake had worked with tele-bots more than once. The microscopic devices were often saturated into an area of operation to provide intelligence on enemy movements. Word was that trillions of the little beggars from multiple governments were scattered in every city, town, or hamlet to spy on people of interest. Some conspiracy theorists preached that the information was used by a secret society of computers all connected to the tele-network to control the various governments and maneuver them to some unknown end. He didn’t buy that, but he did know tele-bots were just about everywhere. It was just a fact of life.

  Still holding out the container, Lieutenant Fisher raised her eyebrows. “Well?”

  With more than a little hesitancy, he took it. “So, you want me to be your errand boy and get these tele-bots of yours planet-side. What are you expecting to find?”

  The lieutenant smiled one of her less than friendly smiles. “Do you really want to know?”

  Something in the woman’s eyes made a shiver run up Jake’s spine. “No, I suppose I don’t. What happens if I refuse?”

  The woman shrugged. “That’s out of my hands. I suppose you’ll have a visit by someone less friendly than me. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to spend the rest of your life in the military prison on Diajor. If you’re unlucky… Well, may that’s best left unsaid.”

  “What if I succeed? Do I get some kind of reward?”

  “You get to live, Mister Striker. Isn’t that reward enough?”

  Jake nodded. “I see your point.”

  Placing both the charge card and the container of tele-bots in his pocket, Jake glanced out the window. At some point during the conversation, the hover-limo had reversed course. They were on final approach to the spaceport.

  He smiled. “This will probably come as no surprise, but I’ll do it. How can I get in touch with you if I run into any problems?”

  The hover-limo touched down in front of the small hangar Commander Onstott’s friend had provided for repairing the Paladin. The limo door slid open.

  The woman gave a semi-friendly smile. “You won’t need to get in touch with me or anyone else from my organization, Mister Striker. Regardless of whatever happens, I doubt we will meet again.” Her smile changed slightly. “That’s probably for the best.”

  As soon as Jake stepped out, the door slid shut and the hover-limo took off. It was soon out of sight.

  He shook his head. “What in the galaxy have I gotten myself into?”

  He turned and headed toward the hangar. There was only one person he trusted to help him make sense out of what was going on.

  Maggie.

  Chapter 8 – Analysis

  _________________

  The inside of the Paladin’s cockpit was a far cry from what it had been only a week earlier. Tilley had supervised the installation of newly padded seats along with top-of-the-line steering levers and gun controls. Not to be outdone, Jason had stripped out half the electronics and replaced them with very expensive, leading-edge computer pads, tele-network transmitters, and receivers. To top it off, the octopod had installed a new array of sonar, sonic, infrared, thermal, and radiation sensors. As an added extra, Tilley had put in a hydration unit to control moisture in the cockpit. Naturally, everything was linked to the Paladin’s AI: Maggie.

  While Jake had no doubt the new equipment would improve the combat effectiveness of the Paladin, in his opinion, the biggest upgrade was the new coffee dispenser. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, he raised his mug to his lips and took a sip. “Now this is what I call good-tasting coffee.”

  A hand-high sized Maggie dressed in a miniaturized version of her gray flight suit walked across the control console and sat cross-legged on the new missile guidance unit. She shook her head in seeming disgust, but the bright blue of her eyes belied the effect. “Don’t get too used to it, Hotshot. Even that super charge card of yours was only able to get us so much of the coffee from Commander Onstott’s supplier. Once it runs out, you’ll be back to drinking the oil and grease mixture you hate so much.”

  Jake shrugged. “Time enough to worry about that when it happens. Until then, I’ve got bigger pactar to fry.”

  Maggie leaned forward and placed her elbows on her knees with her hands cupped under her chin. “That’s for sure. From what you’ve told me, you’ve had a busy day.”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it. Were you able to find anything else out about the Steel Apocalypse tournament or the Gegormas?”

  “Hey, what do you think I am? An amateur? I think at nanosecond speed. I’ve found out plenty. The Steel Apocalypse is for real just like the lady said. It’s held once a decade. This is the third time it’s been held on Lastreo. That place is a fortress like your so called Lieutenant Fisher told you. Once we’re planet-side, we’ll have a hard time getting off without Mister Creao Gegorma’s personal authorization.”

  “So what’s his story? I’ve never heard him.”

  The holograph of Maggie disappeared and then reappeared in full-size in the copilot’s seat. She leaned across the space between the two chairs and took Jake’s hand. Her touch was soft and warm on his skin. It was even a little sweaty. He remembered Jason telling him that he’d integrated the thermal unit and hydration system into the cockpit’s tractor beam.

  Maggie’s eyes turned a light green. “You watch yourself with the Gegormas. They’re bad news. The old man makes a killing selling weapons to both sides in a war. Some of the information on the tele-network indicates he’s done some behind-the-scenes maneuvering to start more than one conflict.”

  “Then he sells to both sides, eh?”

  Maggie smiled and drew her hand back. “I believe that’s what I said. Anyway, he’s dangerous. His daughter Phyllis is just as bad. According to information in the central computer’s intelligence databanks, she’s a highly trained assassin. She could probably kill you with the tip of her thumb, if she had a mind to do so. I’d advise not giving her a reason.”

  Jake eyed his AI. “How’d you get info from the central computer’s intel databanks?” He had a sudden vision of the military prison on Diajor. “You didn’t hack into it, did you?”

  Maggie glanced at the ceiling and laughed. When she got control of herself, she looked back at Jake. “You obviously think I’m more capable than I am. Hacking into a casino’s gaming tables is one thing. Breaking the security on the central computer is another. As it so happens, I came by the information honestly enough. A full report on the Gegormas, their tournament, and Lastreo was downloaded to me about the same time you were meeting that pretty little angel of yours.”

  “Downloaded by who? Are you saying Lieutenant Fisher sent it to you?”

  “Doubtful.” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “By the way, you do know she’s not a lieutenant in the Empire’s navy, don’t you?”

  “Hey, I’m not stupid. I figure she works for one Empire agency or another. Does it matter?”

  Maggie leaned back in her seat and spun it around one time, stopping when she got back to Jake. “Sometimes you worry me, partner. Believe me, it matters. The Intergalactic Empire has certain rules they have to follow. The Empire’s rules of engagement are c
omplex, but only a few agents are authorized to kill without direct orders. Some of the agencies in governments in other parts of our galaxy aren’t so rule oriented.”

  “What are you trying to tell me? That Fisher isn’t working for the Empire?”

  Maggie smiled. “There’s no way to tell. All we have to go on is what she told you and the fact that she was wearing an Empire uniform? That’s not much to go on. Hell, if I had a real body instead of this hologram, I could walk into any pawn shop and buy myself an admiral’s suit to impress unsuspecting fools. If I had to guess, which I’ll admit I’m not good at, I’d say your Fisher woman is working for someone other than the Empire.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Again Maggie laughed. Her blues eyes sparkled in the cockpit’s overhead lights. “Because she said she was working for the Empire. It’s standard operating procedure for spies to misdirect information. Since she said she was working for the Empire, then logically, she’s probably working for someone else.”

  A thought came to Jake. “Unless she told the truth, knowing we would think she was lying.”

  Maggie seemed to think about it a second. “Hmmm. You’ve got a point. Maybe she does work for the Empire.” She smiled and gave a wink. “But then again, maybe not.”

  Jake shook his head in disgust. “This isn’t helping. The question is what am I supposed to do?”

  Growing serious, Maggie reached out and touched Jake’s hand again.

  Jake found the feeling of warmth pleasant.

  “Not you, Jake. We. Tilly, Jason, you, and I are all in this together. We’re obviously in over our heads. My only advice is to slog forward and hope for the best, but be careful.” Maggie’s hand stayed on Jake’s.

  He didn’t try to shake it off. “Hope’s a strange word coming from a computer.”

  Maggie withdrew her hand and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a strange computer. So what else is new? The end result is that when we get to Lastreo, we’ve got to win the tournament. I have a feeling that’s the only way any of us are going to get off that rock alive.”

  Her analysis of the situation didn’t surprise Jake. He’d been thinking along the same lines. He looked at his AI. “There’s going to be some stiff competition. No offense, but a Paladin is somewhere between a light and medium cat. There’s bound to be heavy UHAAVs in the tournament. Realistically, what chance do we have?”

  Maggie smiled and gave another wink. “With you and me working as a team? A hundred and ten percent.”

  Chapter 9 – The Competition

  __________________________

  Three weeks to the day after Jake’s meeting with Phyllis Gegorma, a space freighter with a Transporters International logo set down at the spaceport’s dock number 315. As civilian starships went, it was neither better nor worse than the hundreds of other transport ships Jake had seen over the years. In fact, it was average.

  Looking down from the cockpit of the Paladin, Jake watched as the starship’s engines cut off and the spaceport’s work crews began hosing the ship’s hull down with anti-radiation spray. He cycled the cat’s windscreens through thermal, radiation, sonic, and infrared before going back to normal vision just to get a little practice with the new equipment. He glanced over at Maggie in the copilot’s seat, stretched out with the heels of her boots resting on the control console.

  Catching her eye, Jake nodded at the transport. “I take it you’re noticing the same thing I am.”

  All smiles, Maggie took her feet off the console and turned to face him. “If you mean it looks like someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make sure the ship looks average, then yes, I’m noticing the same thing.” She tightened her lips and frowned. “They made a mistake in making it too average. There are a few too many rust spots that aren’t coming off in the work crew’s sprayers. I’m guessing someone with a lot of artistic talent put them there with hydro-paint. Would you like to make a guess about why they’ve gone to such lengths to make their freighter blend in?”

  Jake shrugged. “Smugglers, I suppose. The question is, what are they smuggling?”

  Maggie didn’t reply right away. She shut the Paladin’s engine down and lowered the cat into storage position. As the UHAAV folded its legs up to its sides and tucked its left and right gun appendages across its chest, the view in the windscreen lowered. The top of the normally five-meter-tall Paladin was now only three meters high.

  With a wink, Maggie said, “To answer your question, I’d say today they’re going to be smuggling one Paladin UHAAV, an AI, and three crazy mercenaries to the neutral zone.”

  A movement out the side windscreen caught Jake’s attention. He laughed and looked back at Maggie. “For once you’re wrong, Maggie, old girl. I’ve got a feeling today they’re going to be smuggling two cats.”

  Placing a hand above her eyes, Maggie pretended to shield them from the sun as she looked out the side windscreen. She laughed. “I see what you mean. That’s a Macron model one-twenty-eight medium UHAAV. According to the specs on the tele-network, it’s seven meters tall with a crew of three. Primary weapons are eight rocket pods, each capable of holding sixteen 100mm rockets. The Macron’s advanced shielding allows its crew to fire tactical nukes if the situation warrants and they have them available. That model of cat also has standard-issue anti-personnel mines on her sides and bottom along with two 40mm phase cannons mounted on the left side of her cockpit.” She gave Jake another of her winks. “A 100 megawatt plasma rifle is mounted in a turret on her backend, so don’t think you can attack her from behind without paying a price. For the pièce de résistance, she has a 400mm phase mortar mounted on the top of her back, capable of lobbing shells twenty kilometers on her slow days.”

  Jake gave the approaching cat a nod of approval. The Macron was dinged in a couple of places and her paint job was scratched and smudged, but she looked deadly and well-maintained in all the areas that mattered.

  “Looks like she’s seen some action,” he said. “I’m assuming that’s one of our competitors.”

  Maggie laughed. “Let’s hope it’s the best of the competition we’ll be facing. If there are better cats in the tournament, we may be screwed.”

  The Macron came within twenty meters of the Paladin and went into storage mode with her windscreen facing the Paladin. Fully down on four knees, the Macron was still a good two meters taller than the Paladin.

  “Hmm,” said Maggie. “I think her pilot’s trying to intimidate you, Tiger. Maybe you better go out and give them a ‘Welcome to the neighborhood.’”

  Jake was about to tell his AI what she could do with her welcome when the side door to the Macron opened. Two crewmen exited the door, jumping the five meters to the ground instead of bothering with an elevator. Anti-grav belts slowed their fall just before they hit the spaceport’s tarmac.

  “Hey,” said Maggie. “That’s a great idea. You should order anti-grav belts while you’ve still got that fancy credit card. We could get rid of our elevator and save some weight.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’ve got a feeling our window of opportunity for ordering things has come and gone. We’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got.”

  The Macron’s two-man cockpit crew was followed by a third person from the rear of the medium cat. They formed up in a triangular formation facing the Paladin. When the three figures took off their flight helmets in unison, Jake let out a whistle.

  “Females,” confirmed Maggie. “Human stock. I’d guess Trecorians from the angle of their cheekbones. Your grandfather and I served with Trecorian regulars during the Vegarian campaign. He used to say a Trecorian mother would place a phase pistol in her newborn’s hand to get the feel of a weapon before she’d let it start feeding at her breast. Trecorians are born fighters, so you may as well tuck your tongue back in your mouth. I don’t think they came here to let you ask them to the prom.”

  “Very funny,” Jake said making sure his tongue was securely in his mouth. “How about completing the shutdo
wn and getting ready to load onto the freighter. I’d rather we do all the prep work of deactivating your electronics for the flight. Otherwise, one of the freighter’s bozo loadmasters will probably try to jerk out your batteries and call it a day.”

  Maggie jumped to her feet and saluted, her eyes glinting a bright blue. “Sir! Yes, sir!”

  Shaking his head, Jake removed his flight harness and set it on the pilot’s seat along with his helmet. “Are you ever going to grow up, Maggie?”

  His AI shook her head. “Doubtful. We are who we are.”

  With a sigh, Jake opened the access door. He was half tempted to jump the now three-meter drop to the cement but chose safety over a false display of bravado. Stepping on the elevator, he pressed the down lever. Within three seconds he was on the ground and walking around the leg of the Paladin to meet the first of his competitors.

  The three Trecorians were still standing in the same spot, their helmets tucked in the crooks of their left arms. Jake noticed their right hands were resting on the butts of pistols in holsters on their belts. He couldn’t help but notice the security straps across the butts of the weapons were unsnapped. The apparent leader of the Trecorians was a young, dark-haired woman about his age. Purple streaks in her hair and sets of double rings in her ears gave her an exotic look Jake found enticing. The woman wore no makeup. As far as he was concerned, she didn’t need any. She looked good enough to eat as it was.

  Pretty; and cocky. Maggie was right. She’s daring me to confront her. We’ll, here I am, lady, so now what?

  The lead female give him the once over. She snorted and glanced over her shoulder at her companions. There must’ve been something derogatory in her look because the two women, both blondes about the same age as their leader, laughed. Turning back to Jake, she frowned. “So, you’re the big hero of Thrakis. I expected more. I watched the tele-bot videos of the battle. You should be dead. You got lucky.”