Atlas

by Isaac Hooke

  The heat shield broke away.

  I could see a large, black land mass below.

  The internal heaters kicked in, stabilizing the interior temperature, and I stopped shivering.

  In about twenty seconds, the autopilot engaged the air brakes, increasing drag and my angle of approach. Both legs swung forward, and the aerospike thrusters built into the feet of the mech activated at full bore. Even so the ground came up fast and I hit the rocky surface extremely hard. On impact my body curled up—my knees were forced way up, and my thighs nearly touched my chest, while my calves brushed my hamstrings, mirroring the posture of the mech. A shockwave of shale and dust spread outward from the ATLAS.

  I stood up to my full height and stepped out of the dust cloud, swiveling a gatling into my right hand and a serpent launcher into my left hand. I took two steps forward, emerging from the dust cloud, leaving behind two molten footprints where I'd landed.

  I felt invincible. I almost dared more SKs to come leaping out at me. None did.

  Too bad.

  I stood on a bleak, gently sloping plateau of black rock. On my HUD, I saw the green outlines of my teammates in the distance. I had landed about a quarter of a klick from the MDV, which had touched down close to the Geronium excavation site. Far to the west I could see the hilly defile where we'd been ambushed earlier.

  I saw smoke streak across the sky and watched a fiery object smash into the ground about one klick away, further up the slope. That was the payload element, which dropped right after me. A flashing blue dot appeared on my HUD. Inside that payload were the external rocket boosters I'd have to attach to Hornet when I wanted to return to the ship, along with charges for my mech's O2 tanks and jumpjets.

  Other than the sun, and the streak of my payload element, there was nothing else in the sky. No clouds. No Raptors to offer air support—we'd lost our only one during the SK attack. Not that we needed air support where we were going.

  "Site secure," Facehopper sent over the platoon line.

  I hurried forward, just springing along with my two-meter long legs. This was great. This was how man was meant to travel. Everyone should have one of these. The Brass needed to tighten their spending and focus on getting us more of the assets that could really make a difference in combat. So what if these things cost three billion digicoins each? Make it work.

  I joined up with Alfa Platoon in no time. They'd landed beside Bravo Platoon's MDV, which was empty. No sign of the platoon, the pilot, the support robots, or the ATLAS 5s.

  Facehopper ordered Mordecai to stay behind with both MDVs, and assigned Manic to guard him, then he broke us up into traveling overwatch formation. I was in the lead squad and took point. Big Dog was right behind me, dragging Mao along.

  I followed the map on my HUD toward the flashing dot that was our destination. As usual, the coloration and patterning of the jumpsuits had changed to match the terrain—as had the surface of my mech, thanks to the array of paper-thin LEDs coating the metal.

  I made good time, and in a few minutes I reached the edge of the site, which was this huge, man-made open excavation. There were giant, deactivated machines everywhere. I saw towering dump trucks that looked like they could carry 400 tonnes each, the wheels as tall as Hornet, the dump bodies probably capable of holding the Royal Fortune. Between the trucks were huge hydraulic power shovels, just as dead.

  On the western side, toward the outpost, there was some kind of rock crusher perched at the edge, with a conveyor belt that led away to a grimy, dome-shaped factory, where three lifeless chimneys poked at the sky.

  The flashing dot indicating our target, the mineshaft, lay in the center of the excavation. I spotted three Centurions dressed in gray and black digital camos, waiting beside the shaft.

  I signaled the all-clear, and waited as the rest of the platoon approached the edge.

  "Looks like a big cairn," Ghost said.

  "I hope not." I glanced at him from my mech. The albino seemed like a little kid, standing there beside me.

  "No," Ghost said. "I meant in memory of the Geronium operation the SKs ran. Not a cairn for our guys. Never our guys."

  "Good," Facehopper said. "For a second there you sounded like that Mao character."

  "Notice how half the dump trucks are still loaded with rock?" Snakeoil said. "And look at the conveyor belt. Covered in crushed fragments. They sure closed up shop quick."

  "Closed up shop?" TJ said. "No, man. The SKs downright fled. Something spooked 'em."

  Facehopper turned to Mao.

  "Death," Mao said.

  Facehopper nodded. "Figured you'd say that."

  Something else was a bit odd. There were shell casings all over the place, leading up the slopes of the excavation, right to here.

  Skullcracker held one of the casings to eye level.

  "Bravo Platoon?" Facehopper said.

  Skullcracker shook his head. "Naw. SK make."

  "It was like this when Bravo Platoon got here," Lieutenant Commander Braggs said.

  "What were the SKs shooting at?" Alejandro said.

  Facehopper was grim. "That's the question, isn't it?" He glanced at Mao. "Let me guess. Death, right?"

  Mao shrugged noncommittally.

  "How are the radiation levels?" Facehooper said.

  Snakeoil stepped to the edge and waved a gloved hand slowly back and forth. "The milli-sieverts are off the scale. The suits are capturing about half of it, but we're still going to have to be on the juice when we get back."

  "Lead the way, mechman," Facehopper said, slapping his strength-enhanced hand against my right leg. The thud echoed through the metal and I felt the reverberation in my cockpit.

  I started down the slope, the loose rock crunching underneath my massive feet. On my map, the green dots of squad one followed me in the zigzag pattern of traveling overwatch.

  I reached the Centurions, and they gave way before me. I was the biggest robot, after all. The rest of squad one froze in place behind me.

  I stood before a shaft that seemed to have been cut into the rock. A pole had been strung across, and ropes led downward into the darkness. It reminded me of a well, somewhat. A square shaft about two meters wide by two across (seven feet by seven feet). Too small for my mech.

  I know it might sound clichéd to say this, but that hole looked evil somehow, like it led to the abyss itself. Just looking at it, and the darkness inside, gave me chills. Alarms went off inside my very being, and some sixth sense told me that it was a very bad idea to go down there.

  But I had to. Bravo Platoon was inside, and needed our help. I wasn't going to abandon them. None of us were.

  I just wish I could've brought Hornet.

  "Rage, did you dispatch the probe?" Chief Bourbonjack said on the comm.

  "Dispatching, sir." I launched the shoulder-mounted ASS (the ATLAS Support System—yes, whoever named it was being a smart-ass), kind of a miniature version of an HS3 probe, and it traveled down the shaft, its revolving cones of light illuminating the walls in a plummeting corkscrew. On my HUD I viewed the video feed, which cut in and out every few seconds.

  "The support probe just reached the bottom of the shaft," I sent on the platoon line. "Looks like some kind of natural cavern. The walls are smooth, with none of the signs of drill bore. Going deeper."

  As the probe advanced, the feed progressively worsened—the pixelization became so bad that I couldn't tell what anything was, and the vid frame froze constantly. I sent a quick command to the probe, telling it to return after sixty seconds of scouting. I wasn't sure if the command got through because the feed abruptly cut out.

  "Just lost contact with the support probe," I sent on the platoon line. "Giving it a minute to return."

  I waited one minute, then two. Just when I was about to give up and declare the probe lost, the video feed kicked in again. The probe was ascending the shaft. I rewound the video.

  "Looks clear all the way to the first HS3 sentry, which is waiting near some interesti
ng rock formations. I think we're good, Chief."

  "Roger that," Chief Bourbonjack said. "Squads, approach."

  I recalled the support probe and waited as the rest of the platoon approached. Four HS3s remained behind, taking up positions along the rim of the excavation.

  When everyone had convened beside the shaft, Lieutenant Commander Braggs glanced at Snakeoil. "Even though we won't be able to contact the ship while we're in there, I want you to bring the comm equipment along, got that Snakeoil?"

  Snakeoil nodded. "Roger that. Don't think I'd leave it behind even if you told me."

  "Good. We'll send an HS3 probe back up every fifteen minutes or so to keep the Royal Fortune apprised of our status." Braggs glanced at the Chief. "Let's get started."

  Chief Bourbonjack nodded at the drone operator. "TJ? Send Lucy, Larry and Lucky in."

  TJ's eyes defocused. The three Centurions that were waiting for us vaulted gracefully onto the ropes and slid into the shaft one after the other. One of the HS3's hovered past and vanished down after them. The HS3 returned thirty seconds later.

  "Looks clear," TJ said. "Like our mechman said, I see an empty chamber. Seems naturally carved into the Geronium. Erosion, maybe. But listen man, rad levels are through the roof down there. When we get back, we're definitely going on the juice. Probably for a week or more."

  Lieutenant Commander Braggs stepped forward, and stared down into the darkness. "I'm not going to order anyone to come. If any of you wants to stay behind and be our rear guard, you're welcome to it. But if you do come, save your jumpjets till we really need them."

  Without a word, Skullcracker approached the evil shaft. He turned on his helmet light, secured his heavy gun, leaped onto the rope, and slid down.

  The rest of the squad followed, one-by-one.

  When about half of us had gone down, Mao abruptly broke away from Big Dog and started running back the way we'd come.

  Big Dog rolled his eyes. A ring of threaded fibroin darts launched from Mao's left anklet and embedded in the shale, instantly tripping him.

  "Remind me why we're bringing him along?" Big Dog said.

  "Maybe the Chief hopes to use him as a canary," Trace said.

  "A canary," Big Dog deadpanned.

  "Sure, you know, early warning system. Ever heard the phrase 'canary in a coal mine?'"

  "Yeah well, you're early warning system just activated." Big Dog made his way toward Mao.

  The Lieutenant Commander secured his rifle and leaped onto the rope.

  "Wait sir," I took a massive step forward, crunching the rock underfoot. "There's no way I'm fitting Hornet down there."

  "You can't bring the mech, obviously," Braggs said dryly. He slid down into the darkness.

  I stepped away to give the others room, then I knelt and activated the hatch. The cockpit folded open and the internal actuators pulled apart my cocoon. I was momentarily disoriented as the vision feed from Hornet cut out, then I climbed down from the mech's chest.

  I stared at the shaft before me. I was merely moving from one claustrophobic environment to another. Except in one I was powerful, the other, powerless.

  "Don't worry, Rage," Snakeoil said. "You're not the only one who has a bad feeling about this. But we gotta find Bravo Platoon. They wouldn't leave us behind."

  "I know, Snakeoil." I glanced at Hornet. "Guard," I instructed the mech.

  The chest of the ATLAS sealed up and Hornet stood. Its weapons armed as the AI within took over.

  Without warning it spun toward Mao, who was in Big Dog's custody once more.

  "Target acquired," Hornet said in its authoritative male voice. "Preparing to terminate."

  "Stand down," I said. "Stand down!" The mech had read Mao's embedded Id, no doubt, and since the mission profile had all SKs tagged as enemies, Mao was definitely a target.

  The ATLAS lowered its weapons.

  "He is a friendly," I said.

  "He is a friendly," Hornet repeated.

  "But if he tries to run, you have my full permission to gun him down." I grabbed a Mark 12 from a storage rack behind the mech and went to the shaft.

  Only Big Dog, Alejandro and I were still here. And Mao.

  Big Dog tossed the SK Officer into the shaft. "In you go!"

  I saw the rope swing and I knew that Mao had grabbed it. Lucky for him—his trimmed-down jumpsuit didn't include jumpjets.

  Big Dog ignored the stunned look I gave him, and leaped onto the rope.

  "See you in hell!" he said cheerfully, and slid down.

  I was the last one to go in. I secured my rifle, activated my helmet light, and hesitated.

  That sixth sense was just going crazy.

  I ignored it, and jumped onto the rope, lowering myself into the bowels of this planet that was 8,000 lightyears away from everything I had ever known.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I traveled maybe ten meters down when the walls abruptly fell away.

  I lowered myself to the floor of an eerily circular tunnel, about five meters in diameter. The polished black walls looked like obsidian.

  My platoon brothers had already deployed in a zigzag pattern down the chamber.

  "Creepy how smooth the walls are down here," Trace was saying on the comm. "What do you think made this? Laser cut? Or burrowed by giant alien slugs?"

  I could just imagine the disturbed look on Alejandro's face.

  "Cut the chatter," Facehopper sent. "Rage, in case you missed the order: Single squad, zigzag formation. You get to be dragman."

  "Any luck on the ship comms, Snakeoil?" Chief said.

  "No sir. I'm still getting static. That goes for the MDV, too."

  "All right," Chief said. "TJ, send Hummingbird back up. Let the Captain know we're in."

  An HS3 hovered past me and flew up the shaft.

  I started forward, assuming my position as dragman. Everyone had their helmet lights on, so I could see quite a ways down that long, obsidian tunnel.

  A moment later the HS3, "Hummingbird," hovered into place behind me, maintaining a constant drag position five meters back.

  "Captain sends his regards," TJ said over the comm.

  It wasn't long before the tunnel opened into a broad, underground cavern of astounding size. This seemed more of a natural cave, versus the artificial, too-round tunnel we'd just traversed. Immense formations of stone thrust from the floor, veritable pillars, wider at the bases than at the tops. Similar formations bit down from above. Stalactites and stalagmites. I could never remember which was which, though. I resisted the urge to look it up in the dictionary on my Implant, because as I strode forward, I had the unnerving feeling that I was passing between a mouthful of teeth.

  Still, there was beauty here, I had to admit. The black, jagged walls yielded in places to sparkling crystals, radiant translucent hexagons that jutted forth at different heights. Above, entire portions of the ceiling twinkled with color.

  "Ever do any spelunking?" Bomb asked me. His mohawk was back to its original, black color, not that I could see it from here. But his mohawk was the first thing that popped into my head whenever I heard his voice.

  "Me? No, not really. You?"

  "All the time, baby. All the time. Never seen anything quite like this of course. Guess it helps that we're on a different planet." He went to the one of the crystalline walls and ran a hand across the surface. "External scans say its Geronium-275 mixed with impurities like Calcium Oxide, Magnesium Oxide, Silica, Aluminum Oxide. Right here's the oxygen for your terraforming."

  "Look sharp, mates," Facehopper said. "No time for sightseeing."

  We continued down the cavern. We came across an HS3 waiting beside a formation, acting as a sentry, and the Chief had TJ send it closer to the entrance shaft to act as an intermediary with the ship, so that Hummingbird wouldn't have to travel as far back for the check-ins.

  Bomb sent a message direct to my helmet. "Thanks for the kind words in the hangar, by the way. Trying to get me the mech and all. A bit misguid
ed, but I do appreciate it."

  "Sure thing," I said.

  The cavern narrowed again, and we entered another unnaturally circular tunnel roughly five meters in diameter. The Centurions continued on about twenty meters ahead of us, scouting the way. The green dots that represented them on my HUD map winked out occasionally, then returned moments later as their signals waxed and waned within the tunnels.

  "Sir," TJ said. "Lucky, Lucy, and Larry have reached a fork."

  "Have them hold there," the Chief said. "How's the signal degradation?"

  "I'm getting pixelization and frame freezes out the yin-yang."

  We reached the fork. Five tunnels of equal size branched off in different directions.

  TJ reported that three of the forks had not been explored yet: the middle one and the two on the right.

  The Chief had him send the robot scouts down the middle fork while we stayed behind, waiting to see if it was worth exploring.

  I watched the map on my HUD expand as the robots went deeper.

  The dots abruptly winked out.

  I glanced at TJ urgently.

  The three green dots came back.

  "That's about as far as I can send them without losing contact," TJ said. "But if I split them up, I can string out the signal for all its worth."

  "Do it," Chief Bourbonjack said.

  I watched two of the green dots proceed while one stayed behind and acted as a signal booster for the other two. Eventually, TJ had another robot halt, and he sent the last forward.

  "You think Bravo Platoon still has any O2 left?" Trace said, while we waited.

  No one answered. We all knew how dire Bravo Platoon's O2 situation was. Let alone their radiation situation.

  They were okay.

  They had to be.

  Hang in there Bravo, I told myself.

  "Lucy's almost out of signal range," TJ said. "Have to halt her."

  "All right, time to move forward, MOTHs," Lieutenant Commander Braggs said.