<
Hex flinched and yelped. “Lucille! What in the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be flying the ship!”
<>
Hex shook his head. “I don’t need you in my CASPer, okay?”
<>
“Thank you, Lucille, but I’d feel a lot better if you were solely focused on flying the ship.”
<
For a moment, Hex did not move or hardly breathe. Flying the Victory Twelve was one thing, but tactically supporting him? The idea of a near-AI performing alongside him seemed too far-fetched to consider. CASPers were capable vehicles in and of themselves, and in the hands of a skilled operator they could do amazing things. He shook off the thought of taking Lucille’s offer seriously. There were more important things to do.
Diagnostics completed, Hex powered up the communications suite and turned the simulator mode on. He put the radio and radar sets into the same mode and let the system boot as if the CASPer were on its own and ready to deploy from auxiliary power. Though networked, the radios and other onboard systems would function normally. Hex pressed the transmit button. “Angels and Demons, check in.”
One by one, the CASPers checked in followed by the tanks. Tara was last. “Boss, this is Demon One. All vehicles are green on the board and ready for simulation STARTEX.”
Hex flexed his fingers and grabbed the CASPer’s controls. With a glance at Maya’s picture, he replied. “Roger, Demon One. STARTEX, time now.” The hangar view faded away to black and came back to a wide, rocky plain under a bright yellow sky. A thousand feral Oogars appeared on the screen and roared as one towards his forces.
Hex froze. What the fuck?
“Hex!” The voice was a thousand light years away and still urgent. “Hex! Engage!”
He flinched and grasped for the CASPer’s controls. Palms sweaty, he tried to blink away the image, but the simulation continued to run. In that lasting moment, he was there with Maya and Hammer trying to fight their way out of a purple-furred shitstorm. Shock turned to a quick burst of anger. Fuck!
He keyed the radio. “Roger, Boss is moving.”
On his command display, the line of CASPers pressed forward more than a thousand meters from his position. Hex jumped forward and accelerated as he bounded toward them. The two squads moved as a single unit in a rough line abreast. Hex selected Angel Two and Angel Seven by voice only. “What in the hell are you doing? Angel Two, set your squad down and lay covering fire. Angel Seven, halt where you are and wait until Alpha Team is laying down fire so you can move.”
“Angel Two, roger,” a female voice called. He heard a click as she departed the frequency. The squad of CASPers stopped and laid down covering fire as advertised.
“Angel Seven, moving now.” As disciplined as the first squad was as they stopped and did what they were told, the second squad was not, moving forward in a ragtag fashion that made his blood boil the more he watched.
“Seven, get your people together! Move in three- to five-second rushes and try to find—”
Two icons in second squad winked out. Angels Nine and Eleven were gone. Hex made for second squad as they finally came to a stop and first squad bounded forward. Oogar fanned out away from them as if to pounce on first squad—sensing weakness. Hex blinked and a flash of memory caused him to stumble as he bounded forward. The Oogar, just two weeks before, turned away from his escape aboard Hammer’s tank to pursue the stragglers, including Maya.
The damned things, even in a simulation, could sense it.
“Alpha Team, set.” Angel Two called. “Second squad cleared to bound.”
“Moving,” Hex heard Angel Seven call. The Oogar swarmed them and two more icons winked out, Seven among them.
“Angel Two, this is Angel Eight in command of Bravo Team. Request to join on your left flank.”
“Granted, we’ll hold position for you.” Angel Two replied.
“Boss, this is Angel Eight, can you cover our move?”
Hex smiled. Someone had their shit together. He changed course and bounded into the teeth of the advancing Oogar. With the flick of a wrist, he engaged both external rocket pods on his shoulders and jumped as high as his jets would allow. At the apex of his leap, Hex fired both pods, a full complement of 24 unguided high-explosive rockets, into the mass. The forest canopy erupted around him as the CASPer landed. He pivoted 45 degrees to the right and found the icons for first squad on his display.
“Demon One, this is Boss, moving across your sector in 10 seconds. Clear our six, over.”
“Boss, negative. Unable to center fires.”
Mid-bound, Hex scanned his tanks and found them in disarray. Demon One and Demon Four were in position to provide supporting fire, but Demons Two and Three were a 100 meters behind them with their gun tubes oriented away from the enemy. “Demon One, Boss. Sitrep. Over.”
A private comm message window blinked to life. “Boss, I’ve got two drivers that can’t get their tracks out of a creek we forded.”
Hex bit back a laugh. Tankers.
Fording a creek wasn’t exactly easy in a 100-ton tank, but it was a simple process if the creek was shallow enough. Drop the nose into the creek and let the tank find the bottom on its own—don’t press down the accelerator. When the tracks hit the bottom, accelerate gently across the bottom and then push hard up the far side. Accelerate at the wrong time and the front end of the tank plugged into the creek or bounced off. With a strong enough current, the tank would be stuck in the creek, exactly like Demons Two and Three.
“Copy, Tara. We’ll get them straightened out. Go ahead and pull the plug on them.”
“Done.”
Hex looked back at the eight remaining CASPers. They’d formed a wedge with the tip pointed into the Oogar and were attempting withdrawal by fire. Angel Twelve’s icon flashed red and blinked out. Angel Eight’s did the same three seconds later. The left edge of the wedge collapsed. Hex jumped in that direction, his eyes fixed on the position of his powerless tanks. Unable to oversee any movement in that direction, his worst fear was confirmed. The armored vehicles were essentially worthless and unable to even lob indirect rounds into the attacking Oogar.
Hex jumped again, laser cannons firing as he tried to protect the tip of the wedge, where Angel Two stood mowing down the Oogar with lethal efficiency. Her icon blinked out and a series of caution and warning bells rang in Hex’s ears. The simulator displays went dark and he engaged the canopy switch and felt the cooler air of the hangar deck sweep into the hot, cramped space. Across the way, the commander’s hatch of Demon One swung up. Hex watched Tara climb up and sit on the cupola. She ran her hands through her hair and shook her head. A thin smile appeared, and Hex knew what it meant.
No one said this was going to be easy, huh?
“What do you want to do, boss?” she called through his headset.
Hex snorted. “Take 10 and then we do it again. Same scenario, same mission. We run it until we get the basics right.”
* * *
Hex decided to end the first day after seven runs. From the third on, the mission parameters were harder, and while they struggled at times, by the end of the last mission there was progress, and all of them could see it. Hex waved Tara over to his CASPer. “Let’s call it a night, at least in the sims.”
Tara nodded. “They did a lot better that last time.”
“They did,” Hex agreed. “Angel Two is a solid leader. I think I like Angel Eight in command of the Bravo Team. He’s got instincts – let’s switch him with Angel Seven. We still need to run a few missions so that everyone has a chance to command, but they’re the standouts so far. How are your crews?”
Tara sighed. “Three seems like a good crew, bu
t Demon Two has some issues. I’m going to rebalance tonight and see if there is a better lineup. We can keep going tomorrow—maybe get to a full mission set.”
“Just no Oogars,” Hex said and immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Why not?” Tara blinked and looked over at the deep slashes in the armor of his CASPer’s left arm. “Oh shit. That’s why you froze up.”
Hex clenched his fists and forced himself to relax. It wasn’t an accusation. As much as it embarrassed him, it was fact. “Yeah,” he conceded. “It was the last thing I expected or wanted to see.”
“You want to talk about it?” Tara half-shrugged.
“Not tonight,” Hex said. He wanted some food, a beer, and a good night’s sleep, even if he had to take a sleeping aid again. Avoiding the nightmares required the small pills.
“You sure? You really look like you should.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay,” Hex said. “Do you want some help reorganizing your crews?”
Tara shook her head and smiled. “I can handle it. Look, Hex.” She paused. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You pretty much lost everything two weeks ago. I understand that Jessica Francis is your friend and all, but I don’t think this mission is a good idea.”
“You think Hak-Chet set me up? Or is setting Jessica up to fail?”
Tara frowned. “I don’t think either of those things. I think you’re not ready to command this mission, and that puts me and every one of our team at risk. They’re clearly not ready for a mission. We’ve got four more days—that will help. We’re only as good as our weakest link, and right now that’s you. Not professionally. You handle a suit like a pro. I’m talking about your head, Hex. I need it screwed on tight. You need to get your shit together and brief your team leaders ASAP.”
Tara spun on her heel and walked toward the collecting group of soldiers. He heard her telling them it was time for chow, and they’d meet later in the hangar to talk about tomorrow’s training plan. The group left in ones and twos, Tara among them. She didn’t look back over her shoulder at him. Alone in the hangar, sitting in the tight, familiar cockpit of his CASPer, Hex looked down at the picture of him and Maya on the beaches of Kaua’i.
I miss you.
Tears sprang to his eyes, and he let them come. Maybe when they stopped, if they ever did, he could find a way to move on.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Bukk crept slowly into the main tunnel shaft. Four days of continuous digging through the layers of karst that marked the boundary of the Araf plains had been difficult and exhausting. Under the walls of the GenSha colony they’d moved deeper underground and slowed their pace to avoid detection. The slightest tremor or noise could alert the GenSha to their presence. As the Chief Scout, Bukk understood that the value of surprise far outweighed the need for speed. Klatk’s orders were clear. Attack the GenSha compound at its very center, where the young spent their days, without detection. There was no timetable, only the requirement for success.
Crawling forward on all six legs, Bukk reached Kseh at the controls of their tunnel corer and tapped his right rear leg twice. The machine spooled down, quieting the noise in the tunnel, and the dust cleared somewhat as Kseh backed out. He looked at Bukk and twitched his neck from side-to-side as if to stretch. “Moving faster now. We’re only 200 meters from the drop point.”
Bukk reached for the control in Kseh’s front claw. “I’ll take it from here. Get some rest and have the others ready to move the moment we plant the device.”
“I will,” Kseh said but hesitated leaving.
“What is it?” Bukk tried to push past his soldier to get to work, but Kseh didn’t move.
Kseh twitched his head backward, gesturing to the central paddock area 30 meters above them. “They’re kids.”
Bukk grunted. “They killed 700 of our brothers and sisters; lives that will never see the sky or feel the heat from the stars on their skin.”
“I understand,” Kseh said. “But why attack their children? An eye for an eye?”
Bukk nodded. “Klatk wants them to hurt, Kseh. That’s what our orders are, and we’re going to follow them.”
“Even when we don’t want to follow them?”
Bukk whirled on the young soldier. “What did you say?”
“None of us want to kill their kids, Bukk.” Kseh stuck out his chest plate and faced his squad leader. “We want to hurt them, but not their kids.”
Bukk ground his mandibles. “Our orders are to strike the central paddock.”
“We don’t have to hit it during their assembly,” Kseh said.
“Yes, we do,” Bukk said. “The intent was clear. Klatk will not be intimidated, and we will avenge the loss of our young. Is that clear?”
Kseh nodded and lowered his chest toward the ground. “I understand, Bukk. I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“That’s why I’m here to plant the device, Kseh. It’s why I’m going to be the one to detonate it. I understand how you feel, but I’m okay with hurting the GenSha just as they hurt us, exactly as our queen ordered.” Bukk crept into the tunnel and found the coring device. Within a few seconds, he began drilling toward their target with expert precision, though his mind was on other things.
Leadership was never easy, and it often meant pushing relationships with soldiers and leaders to the very brink of disaster. Kseh’s and the other young soldiers’ experience in combat seemed almost sheltered compared to the rest of the main army. Granted, the main army was no more than 200 regular soldiers who provided security and protection for the colony walls. The others in the colony received some basic instruction in weapons and defensive protection systems, but they didn’t live, eat, and breathe being a soldier like Bukk and his men.
Bukk didn’t like the assignment either, and while it would have been easy to say he was privately on the side of Kseh and the others, that would have been wrong. Undermining Klatk’s leadership and his own chain of command were one thing, undermining his own leadership and the tight-knit squad were another. He could lead from a place of understanding and sympathy, but there would be a time when lives would be on the line, and he would be unable to lead the men who thought he was their friend and agreed with them. Far easier was the difficult path of keeping his mouth shut and doing the work his queen, and the command, placed upon him. Only twice in his career did he really feel required to say something that differed from their chosen courses of action. In both cases, he’d been wrong. Those above him in rank and authority possessed wisdom he did not, and until he saw the world through eyes like theirs, it was best to shut up and keep moving.
The small slate screen on the tunnel corer showed they were directly underneath the central paddock. Bukk adjusted the tracked vehicle, and set the drill vertical to bore through the 30 meters of rock and soil between them and the completion of the mission. Checking the time, he noted the maximum point of impact, when parents and children assembled on the paddock, would be in an hour. Even drilling slowly to prevent discovery, he could make that distance in 20 to 30 minutes at the most. The GenSha assembly typically lasted 30 minutes or so—some kind of morning devotional according to the Altar intelligence officers. He did the math and decided that while Klatk could live with infanticide, he could not.
Bukk adjusted the speed of the drill and stepped back to avoid the cascade of detritus from the drill head as it filled the tunnel. Two hours would give them enough assurance that they would not be discovered under the paddock and allow time for a majority of the parents and children to leave. There would still be unavoidable casualties. However, he would hit his target as ordered, and be able to live with himself if he survived the run back to the colony.
That was enough for Bukk.
* * *
Jessica woke as the Tchrt One decelerated at the Araf emergence point. Her gear lay ready for debarkation at the door. She rolled off the bed, zipped herself into clean Peacemaker blue coveralls, and walked to her weapons case.
&nb
sp; “Loss of gravity in one minute. Secure all belongings for yacht departure.” The flight deck announcement was toneless and slow.
At the end of one rotating arm of the Tchrt One main vessel, the similarly named yacht would detach and transition to normal space operations for the trip from the emergence point to the surface. Thankfully, they’d only have about an hour of microgravity before landing. The Consortium’s Dream Worlds all existed exceptionally close to stargates and emergence points. Jessica assumed that any deal with the Cartography Guild to construct each system that way had involved a substantial payoff.
More organizations than the Consortium will get squeezed if this one fails.
At that realization, she paused for a moment as she opened her weapons case. Jessica grabbed her pistol and belt, strapped the belt around her waist and the holster to her left thigh. On her right, she secured a long, black bladed knife and slipped a standard Peacemaker baton through a loop above it. She snapped the weapons case closed and secured her bags to the deck as the yacht disengaged and microgravity returned. Up became down, and down became up as her vestibular system freaked out for a moment. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as her body adjusted to the loss of gravity.
When she felt centered, or as centered as she could feel, she opened her eyes and forced herself to see through the walls and spaces of the ship. The nose of the yacht was down and the stern’s equipment bays were up. Left and right were the same as ever. With practiced ease, she pushed off her bags and floated to her room’s door. The automatic hatch slid open and remained that way as she maneuvered into the main passageway and headed for the bridge.
The doors to Taemin’s quarters remained closed, she noted with a grin. Floating through the wide passageway gave her the illusion of flying, and while throwing her arms out in front of her like a superhero would have been fun, she kept a ready position with her legs together, knees flexed, and arms out in a push-up position as she glided silently forward.
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