“We’ll need to get away from here before two hours; otherwise we’ll absorb too much juice from those pits.”
“If you give me a hand instead of floating around we might actually do that.”
“I’m here if you need me, Cuts, just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Some light in here would be a start.”
I flicked on my helmet light, and unslung a flashlight from my webbing as well. I rotated my suit so I was facing the hole. Mal moved onto the hull and attached a few magnetic hooks around the array housing, using them to manoeuvre himself and anchor tools to. He then magnetised his knees and feet, attaching to the hull.
“So what do you think about our current job?” asked Cuts as he worked.
I made sure our suit coms were only transmitting with each other and not the rest of the ship before answering.
“Which part?”
“I don’t know, our chances of pulling it off?”
“If we keep our heads level, and work as a team we…”
“Spare me the senior leadership bullshit. Just tell me what you think.”
“Okay, I think we have a chance.”
“Why?”
“I know Gossamer System. I know how the Ghantri think, and I plan to use that to our advantage.”
“You mean from when you were in the Star Marines?” I could tell that he was worried, I’d never actually had a decent conversation with the man in the two years since I’ve known him. I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable talking about my marine days, especially with him, but I knew I had a responsibility to the crew that included their morale.
“Yeah, Mal, I did a tour there. Wasn’t easy, but I got through it.”
“I’ve heard some things, you know. Really heavy shit from the system. People go in, and it…it changes them. Did that happen to you?”
“I won’t lie. It did. I had to do some pretty terrible things just to survive, but I we have it in as to get through this as well. Last time, I only had myself, now I have a full crew…”
“Pass me that torque wrench there. I thought you said you were with the marines?”
“I was, at first, but they…I got separated. I got left behind when they all pulled out.”
“Ha, you were off chasing some tail and you missed your liberty call, huh?”
“Not really, no. My squad got ambushed and I was one of the only survivors. After we got to our rendezvous late, the shuttle had already left. Just as well too because we found out later it had been destroyed along with most of the fleet we came in with.”
“Man, that’s some heavy shit right there.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really like to talk about it.”
“Why? You ain’t gone soft, have you?”
“It’s complicated. I don’t expect you to understand it.”
“So great, we’re going into the star system from hell with our only guide a burned out marine with a shaky hand.”
“Fuck you, Mal. You’re a real bezak, you know that?”
He continued to work while he chuckled to himself. I was less than helpful after that, preferring to quietly brood while he replaced some damaged bearings and a faulty actuator. Eventually he was done, and we packed everything up. Fel checked the array and found that it was working again and we headed back inside. Mal took one more chance to run me the wrong way as we got out of our suits with the help of Eric and Zoe again.
“Maybe you should both help Seth, he can barely see with all the crying he’s been doing out there, har ha.”
Zoe merely looked into my face with concern and ignored Mal’s jibs. Eric scolded him and the pair left to get back to engineering. Zoe helped me to stow the gear back in the airlock and soon we were walking back towards the main living spaces.
“What was he talking about?” she probed as we climbed down the ladder well to Deck 2.
“I thought he was asking me about the job and he sounded scared, so I told him a little about my last time I was in Gossamer System. He looked for anything he could attack me with and leaped on it.”
“It’s a defence mechanism. He is scared.”
“You don’t know Cuts, he’s an asshole.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Feeling a little vulnerable, I tried opening up and I got kicked in the guts.”
“It’s going to feel like that a few times. It will feel worse right up until it doesn’t. That’s how you know you’re healing.”
We walked in silence a little more.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about your FX-93 Aug, and I wanted to speak to you about an upgrade I know of…”
“No, Zoe.”
“But, you don’t even know what it is.”
“No, I had these Augs, the only way I can get through the day with them in me is by pretending I don’t have them.”
She stopped walking and just looked at me.
“What?”
“You don’t see them for what they are, you only see them for what they remind you of.”
“Just like a bad scar.” I traced a finger down my eye and cheek, the tip following the groove of my face scar.
“They’re not just scars, Seth, they’re so much more.”
“I can’t put extra strength on them, first heavy thing I pick up would rip them right out of my body…”
“They’re connected to your nervous system!”
“So?”
“Your nerve shunt goes right into your spine and has dendrites that interface with your brain.”
“Besides making them sound horrifying, what’s your point?”
“You’re one implant away from building a top of the line Nano-proliferation system.”
It was my turn to stare.
“No thanks, I’m enough of a freak that I don’t need to go lacing creepy crawly microscopic robots all over my body.”
She sighed in frustration.
“That’s not what they are. But ok, I get the message. No NP. It’s your body, I just wanted to talk to you about it is all.” She appeared chastened, and made to walk off. I grabbed her arm before she took off.
“Thanks,” I caught her eye, “I mean that.”
She nodded and hurried off down a passageway towards her cabin.
Nano-proliferation is a relatively new technology, one that creeps the hell out of me. Supposedly you need extensive augmentation, including a nerve interface, and one of these new special implants that goes right into you skull. You usually only hear about NP users through the news, and they’re usually power crazed megalomaniacs who lose themselves in the power that stems from such a modification.
The implant, which is half-organic like our interface overlays, allows the user to manufacture microscopic robots that can self-replicate at the user’s command. These nanites can manipulate things at the molecular level and induce all manner of nifty effects and abilities. They tap into the user’s own natural body electricity, or something, and prolonged use can turn you into a vegetable. The effects that can be produce are nothing short of miraculous, though, and terrifying in their potential. By changing their electrical polarity and potential charge, they can electrify things, like people, and can infiltrate electronic devices and control them. They can even dissolve substances like acid. I’m sure there are many mild mannered NP users out there, who don’t make the news, but the only ones I’ve ever seen are raving murderers and crazy people.
Actually, I did know an NP user who wasn’t mad, a man named Captain De Lacy. He was the commanding officer of the Sardonis Mist, a Protectorate Fleet frigate that I served on briefly during The Push into Gossamer. He used his nanites to interface directly with many of the ship’s systems when we’d suffered a direct hit to the bridge. The blast had killed many of the crew staff through decompression, but not De Lacy. By the time I’d gotten there to help with the damage control, he had encased his head in some sort of energy field and had all these strange black wires going from his arms down into the command console he was affixed to.
The strangest thing I’d ever seen. He was controlling the entire ship, and later when I asked him about it he said it was like he was the ship, he saw through its sensors and felt each hit that struck us. It took its toll though, he was bed ridden for as long as I knew him after that, which didn’t turn out to be long as it was. The Sardonis Mist was destroyed a week later, after we’d deployed for the ground assault.
Well, all that talk about ugly business and my brooding mind, not to mention my little chat with Cuts had wound me up tight. When this usually happens the best way to work it out is through exercise. I pinged Crege, to see if he was keen for some sparing. He was. I headed down through Deck 2 and further on towards Deck 3 and the forward cargo hold.
While I waited for Crege, I unlashed a few supply crates and moved them out of the way, forming a large enough area to spar. I opened the armoury and pulled out a few of the blades we keep there, checking them over for nicks and chips. When I was satisfied I had a decent blade, I made to exit the armoury when suddenly the lights in the hold went out.
I was instantly alert, falling into a defensive guard stance. I slowed my breathing and concentrated. I listened. When I was sure I wasn’t in immediate danger of being attacked, I activated my tactical app and initiated a secondary function of the program. A wireframe image filtered into my vision, overlaying the infrastructure that I knew was about me. It may be dark, but my brain has seen this compartment many times. The app tapped into the local network and built a three dimensional construct of the compartment from security footage moments before the black out. I couldn’t see my assailant, but I could at least navigate around the hold without tripping like an idiot.
I confidently stepped out into the hold, my blade before me and slightly high. I heard a faint scuff to me left, a rustle of cloth, then a swift woosh. I ducked and rolled, coming up a few metres away from where I was. I instantly fell into guard again and was rewarded by a bright flash from my blade as it connected with another. With a grunt and kicked out in front of me and was rewarded with a solid connection. My attacked rolled away, and I pressed my advantage swinging my blade in a circular sweep before me. A foot struck out and caught me behind my heel, I slipped by hadn’t put all my weight on that leg yet. Pulling my blade back into a low guard I caught the enemy’s blade on my own once more and in the flash that followed I was able to spot a swinging fist aimed at my face. I ducked and drove my shoulder into their midriff. I knocked the wing out of them and drove my head upwards, clipping a chin. We disengaged and rolled apart, both puffing with exertion.
A chortling chuff came from my opponent, and the lights came back on.
“You made me bite my tongue, human.” Said Crege, spitting blood out of his beak.
“Sorry, I’ll go easy on you if you like.”
He chuffed some more and trilled a little, “You would dishonour me, if you did.”
“I can get Zoe, in case you bleed out?”
He responded by launching himself at me with a swift upper swipe that followed with a back handed low to high sweep. The rapid strikes almost caught me off guard and I was hard pressed to knock them aside. I was on the back foot, as Crege continued with his barrage of blows by alternating high – low, left – right, up – down and I had to concentrate fully to block or evade them all. I backed up so far I fell into one of the crates and went tumbling over and fell on my head on the other side. Crege leaped onto the crate and made to continue his attack, only I kicked his feet out from under him and he fell backwards.
I leapt up, sword in hand, only to almost lose my head when he swept across me savagely. I faked to the left, but braced myself and pushed right, smashing my shoulder into him and while he was stunned I pressed my attack. My blows were not as fast or as accurate as Crege’s but they were heavier and made him recoil for longer than I had. I made a mistake, then, I repeated my attacks one too many times and Crege was ready for it. He dodged a stroke where last time he’d blocked it and smashed his blade down on my guard hilt. The blow stunned my wrist, and the swords scattered across the hold as he kicked it away. He had me, his sword tip resting on my chin.
“Sloppy, human.”
“Yeah, my bad.”
“Your mind is not here. A warrior without a brain is not a warrior, he is fedang.”
“Yeah I get it, a practice dummy.”
He lowered his blade and tossed it onto a supply crate.
“You want to talk?”
“When I catch my breath.”
You may think that swords are a bit old fashioned to be used around such advanced weaponry, but there is a reason for it. Most firearms use hard light projectiles, meaning they’re formed of solidified light particles. It’s an energy form that’s been around for centuries, and there are many ways to counter it. There’s ablative coating on armour, which dissipates the particles across a wider area, or there’s personal shielding. Good old fashioned solid armour can also stop an energy projectile, most of the time. Personal shields are similar in operation to the shields used on our ship. They project a bubble around the user that breaks apart the hardlight casing of the projectile and converts it into electricity. Shields tend to create lots of sparks and make it hard to stay out of sight. The fireworks also mess with your vision and for this reason I tend to steer away from shields in favour of ablative armour. It’s less expensive than shields and they don’t burn out in the middle of a fight. When you do fight someone with shields or decent ablative armour, they can be difficult to kill. That is, unless you bypass the shields altogether. Like with a metal sword.
With the introduction of personal shielding and ablative armour, melee combat became more popular, and even became an official sport. Famous swordfighters became folk heroes and the subject of many popular movies. Just like the old gun fighters of ancient Earth’s old west, a subculture grew out of the sport. Duellists who sought out one another to determine once and for all who the best swordfighter in the galaxy was.
I’d almost caught my breath when I noticed a movement to my right. Artemis walked into the cargo hold, her ever present grin on her pretty face. She was twirling her ballistic pistol in her hand.
“Sometimes the old ways are the best.” She teased, and returned her pistol to her hip.
“That’s cheating.” I said, trying to look tough. Why, I don’t know.
“No, calak is right.” Said Crege. I turned to face him in surprise.
“Superior warrior not the one with best moves,” he explained, “it is the warrior who walks away at end of fight, not dragged away.”
“What do you want Artemis?” I eyed her off. I looked at her, in her direction, I mean.
“Can’t a girl get some exercise?” she said as she picked up my fallen blade.
“You want to spar?”
“Sure. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
“I don’t know…”
“Do it, human. Perhaps she has accident. Very unfortunate.”
“Oh, come now. You really think you can hurt me?”
“If I do, it might set off the charges. That would be mighty foolish of me.”
“I tell you what, you cut me, I’ll tell you where one of the charges you haven’t found yet are.”
“And if you cut me?”
“You can quit whenever you like. If you can handle a few cuts you can keep trying.”
“Deal.”
Crege made a puffing sound, and tossed me his lurzak. I made sure it was deactivated and tested the grip. It was a little small for me, but was comfortable. Crege backed away and perched atop a supply crate, watching eagerly.
“Don’t go easy on me, big boy.” she teased again.
I lunged at her as fast as I could, trying to catch her off guard. She was ready, expecting it. She nimbly leapt back and with a flick of her wrist cut my chin slightly. She was grinning fiercely. I rubbed by chin and glared at her.
“Want me to call Zoe?” chided Crege. I burned a dose of stink eye at him, then turned back to Artemis, who was p
atiently waiting for me to ready myself again. I would have to fight smart, I could see now. I could see she was a seasoned swordfighter; I won’t be able to trick her with my usual feints and dirty fighting.
We circled each other, I watched her moving, studied her stance. She grinned at me like a shark. I moved slowly, putting each foot down with care. She mimicked me, moving at the same pace. I moved quickly, suddenly, changing direction and sidestepping. She pulled back and fell into stance. Her eyes flashed. I smiled back at her. We both leapt at the same time and out blades met in mid-air with a crash. I spun away and raised my guard, catching a sharp backhand chop on it. She sent out a foot to try to catch me on the chin, but I ducked and thrust my blade at her midriff. She turned aside and pushed my thrust wide, bringing her elbow down on my blade and rolling down the length towards me. I continued with my thrusting momentum and rolled under her flip, coming up just in time to meet her blade again.
I went on the attack again, thrust, swing, chop, swipe. Each time I was met with the clang of steel and I could see my blows her hurting her hand. Hopefully, her fingers would go numb and I could disarm her. She was having none of that, however, and dove out of the way of my last attack leaving me unbalanced. She stabbed forward with her blade and caught the side of my forearm. Red wetness welled up through my sleeve. I pulled back in pain and she pirouetted on her foot and smashed her foot into the side of my head. My vision swam, and I could swear I could hear something rattling around loose inside my head.
She continued her spin and swung her blade out to try to send me back again, but this time I simply grabbed her blade with my left hand and squeezed. Her eyes opened wide in surprise and in that instant, she knew I could have killed her. Instead, I swished my blade in front of her face, placing a neat little cut below her right eye. A single drop of blood trickled down her face.
My cybernetic hand dropped the bent and crushed blade with a clatter. A moment later her smile returned, this time there was a trace of something else in it besides amusement.
Crege was hooting and clapping.
Dreaming of Atmosphere Page 8