Infinite Stars

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

  “No. Over.”

  “Watch your six,” the woman cautioned. “Overwatch out.”

  * * *

  THE LUCKY STRIKE MINE

  Reeger was monitoring the steady flow of reports from WA cells in cities all around the world as he spooned lukewarm nutra-blend into his mouth. Things were going well, very well indeed. The company’s drop cities had been paralyzed by a series of perfectly coordinated suicide bombings. And the Legion didn’t have a tenth of the troops required to lock everything down. “Hey, boss,” a voice said. “We have a fix on them.”

  Reeger turned to find a com tech named Foley standing behind him. “You have a fix on who?” he demanded.

  Judging from the expression on Foley’s face he thought his task should be top of mind for everyone—Reeger included. “On the legion guys… The ones who were on the VTOL. We got a cross fix on them when they called in.”

  Reeger was surprised. Even though Foley and his techs had been ordered to try, Reeger hadn’t expected them to succeed. “You’re sure it’s them?”

  “Hell, yes, I’m sure,” Foley replied. “The transmission originated from a hill about three miles from the crash site.”

  “Well done,” Reeger said. “Was the transmission in the clear?”

  “No, it was encrypted.”

  Reeger shrugged. “That figures, but I had to ask. Send for Gilman… I’ve got a job for him.”

  * * *

  NORTH OF KEEBLER’S GAP

  Murphy’s conversation with Overwatch had been somewhat depressing. The fact that the legion couldn’t spare a SAR team to rescue the governor’s daughter spoke volumes. It didn’t take a general to realize that the brigade was up to its ass in trouble. But Murphy didn’t want to worry Caitlin any more than necessary, so he gave her the facts minus any editorial comments. “So,” he concluded. “We’ll have to hoof it. And, according to the map stored in my nav system, Keebler’s Gap is forty-six miles away.”

  Caitlin looked at him. There was something different about it. Like most teenagers, Caitlin had a disturbing way of switching back and forth between child and adult. Now Murph found himself face to face with a young woman. A woman who reminded him of Ellie. Steady. Intelligent. Serious. “It says ‘Murphy’ on your chest,” Caitlin said. “Is that it? No first name?”

  “It’s Mike. But my friends call me Murph.”

  “Okay, Murph… I’m not a friend, but I hope to become one. Tell me the truth, Murph… It’s bad isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Murphy answered reluctantly. “It’s bad. We have roughly 3,000 legionnaires on Saa-Na and we’re struggling to cope. But we’ll win. We always do.”

  Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “Was there any mention of my father?”

  “No,” Murphy replied. “There wasn’t.” And that seemed strange. If Caitlin was his daughter, and he was governor, Murphy would be throwing his weight around. But Murphy couldn’t say that, and didn’t. A change of subject was in order.

  “Open the pack,” Murphy suggested. “Let’s see what you have while we still have some daylight.” The answer was a set of camos which, as it turned out, were one size too large. But anything was better than the absurd outfit Caitlin was wearing. There were two MREs as well, plus some candy bars, and a water bottle that was half full.

  Then Caitlin came across the zipped bag that contained some earrings, some clear nail polish, and a photo of a young man. She burst into tears.

  Murphy wanted to comfort her, to place an arm around her shoulders, but was painfully aware of what that arm would be: Either a machine gun or an energy cannon. “Don’t cry,” he said awkwardly. “Corci was a legionnaire. She chose to be a soldier.”

  “What about you?” Caitlin demanded, as she wiped her nose with a sleeve. “Did you choose to be a legionnaire?”

  That was a painful subject. One that Murphy didn’t like to discuss. But, if it would take Caitlin’s mind off Corci, then he would. “I was a bio bod before I became a cyborg,” he told her. “And I was married to a girl named Ellie. She was better than I was in every way. But somehow, for reasons I never understood, she loved me. And I loved her.

  “I was working the nightshift at a factory. So she was alone the night a man named Orson Warky broke into our apartment. He raped Ellie. Then he killed her. And left his wallet behind.”

  It was dark by then. But both moons were rising, and Murphy could see the way Caitlin was staring at him. He looked away. “They tried Warky,” Murphy said. “And I thought the jury would find the bastard guilty. But his attorney pointed out that Warky had been in our home the day before the murder to repair the toilet. That, he said, was when Warky lost his wallet. And, with no DNA or other physical evidence connecting Warky to the crime, he got off.”

  Caitlin frowned. “So you joined the legion?”

  “No,” Murphy replied. “I killed Warky, and they gave me a choice. The state of California was going to execute me no matter what. But, if I chose to, I could live on as a cyborg. A brain in a box. I said ‘yes.’ So they killed me the way I killed Warky. With three blows from an axe. Then they brought me back. And here I am.”

  Caitlin stood and came over to sit next to him. Murphy was too big to hug, so all she could do was pat his energy cannon. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Murph… But I’m glad too. Glad that you’re alive.”

  They sat that way, side by side, as the moons arced across the sky—and the night creatures came out to eat and be eaten. Caitlin fell asleep after a while. But Murphy was awake. I should have chosen death, he thought. Next time I will.

  * * *

  Murphy awoke to a persistent beeping sound. The drone! After launching it around 0300 Murphy had allowed himself a nap. And now, as the machine circled above, it was trying to warn him. Murphy switched from his sensors to the drone feed. And sure enough, there they were, three incoming heat signatures. All hot enough to suggest electro-mechanical activity. The green blobs were a mile out and traveling single file.

  Murphy stood. “Caitlin… Wake up. Company is on the way.”

  Caitlin was curled up in the fetal position. She stirred. “Company? What kind of company?”

  “The bad kind,” Murphy replied. “The legion would have notified me if it was sending a team in. Put your pack on, eat a candy bar, and drink some water.”

  “Why? What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to do the thing they least expect us to do,” Murphy answered. “We’re going to attack.”

  Caitlin was on her feet by then. She grabbed the carbine. “Will I have to shoot people?”

  “No,” Murphy replied. “Not until you have some training. Mount up… We’re leaving.”

  Once Caitlin was on his back Murphy scrambled up over the rim and began the trip down. By putting the hill between him and the enemy Murphy hoped to conceal his movements. Did the enemy have a drone of their own? No, not according to his drone, which was equipped to detect such devices. That meant he could circle around and surprise the bastards.

  What are they? Murphy wondered, as he skidded down the slope. Had the WA dispatched a team of robots to do their dirty work? That would account for the heat and the speed with which they were approaching the hill.

  The moons had set by then. But thanks to Murphy’s night vision and thermal imaging capability he could “see” quite well. Small blobs of heat fled in every direction as Murphy forced his way through the jungle. And the normally raucous creatures that lived up in the trees fell momentarily silent as the man-machine closed in on his prey.

  The would-be attackers were following a meandering game trail. So thanks to guidance from above Murphy was able to establish an ambush at the point where the path crossed a clearing. And just in time too because the first enemy unit arrived moments later.

  Rather than a robot Murphy found himself looking at a twelve-foot-tall industrial exoskeleton—which was equipped with two light machine guns, one mounted on each side of the operator’s protective cage. Had the m
achines been “liberated” from Madsen Mining? Of course they had.

  Wait for it, Murphy told himself. Wait for the third mech to enter the clearing. Murphy fired the fifty as the last exo appeared. Tracers drew a straight line between him and the machine. The operator turned the exo, or tried to, but was killed in a matter of seconds. And when his hands left the controls the mech collapsed.

  So far so good. But the clock was running. Could Murphy nail the number two machine? And do it before the third exo could take a crack at him? He had to try.

  Murphy fired the fifty and the energy cannon. They were a deadly combination. The outgoing fire converged on the mech, found an ammo bin, and triggered an explosion. A bright flash strobed the jungle and thunder rolled across the land.

  But there was no time in which to celebrate as the third operator opened fire with a cage-mounted rotary grenade launcher. The first bomblet struck the ground fifteen feet in front of Murphy, exploded, and peppered him with shrapnel.

  Murphy staggered, caught his balance, and fired both weapons. His antagonist turned, ducked, and fired again.

  The second grenade was closer and Murphy realized that he’d been wrong. Attacking the mechs was a stupid idea. But what was, was. So Murphy did the only thing he could do, and that was to charge the miner, hoping to get so close that his opponent’s grenade launcher would be useless.

  Murphy uttered an incoherent roar as he collided with the exo, knocked the machine off its feet, and stomped it. He was still dancing on the twisted wreckage when Caitlin spoke to him over the intercom. “He’s dead, Murph… You can stop.”

  Murphy remembered the axe, the way the first blow split Warky’s skull in two, and his need to whack the bastard again. He stopped. “Yeah… Asshole down. Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” Caitlin replied. “I’ve never been better.” Then she threw up.

  * * *

  THE LUCKY STRIKE MINE

  Reeger was lying on a filthy cot deep inside the Lucky Strike Mine as legion aerospace fighters bombed the facilities on the surface. Would they resort to bunker busters? Hell, no. Madsen Mining wouldn’t allow that. The corpies wanted to kill the rebels, import new workers, and resume production as quickly as possible. Collapsed tunnels would interfere with that.

  Reeger heard a muted thump as a 2,000-pound bomb exploded hundreds of feet above him and the cot trembled. Particles of dirt fell onto his face and he brushed them away. Reeger wanted to sleep, he needed to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come.

  A headlamp emerged from the surrounding murk. It bobbed slightly. “Boss? Are you awake?”

  “Yeah, I’m awake,” Reeger replied. “What’s up?”

  “It’s the mechs,” Foley said, as he came closer. “The ones you sent to find the legionnaires. And the girl.”

  Reeger raised a hand up to shield his eyes from the light. “What about them?”

  “Our guys were close, real close, when they were ambushed. Gilman got a message out. They were up against a Trooper 5, maybe two Trooper 5s, and he caught a glimpse of the girl. She was riding a cyborg. Then Gilman went off the air. We haven’t been able to raise him since.”

  “What about the transponders on the exos?” Reeger wanted to know.

  “We’ve been pinging them,” Foley replied. “But there’s no response.”

  Reeger swung his boots over onto the dirt floor. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right… If we can’t grab the bitch then we’ll kill her… And send a video of it to her father. Let’s get to work.”

  * * *

  NORTH OF KEEBLER’S GAP

  Pylo II was rising. As it did the day dwellers came out to screech, howl, and make strange clicking sounds. The clearing was two miles behind them by then, and even though Murphy could have continued, he knew his charge needed a break.

  So Murphy stopped under a thick canopy of trees where it would be difficult to spot them from above. He coached Caitlin through the process of heating an MRE. And she must have been hungry, because no one eats ham and limas unless they are.

  Once the meal was finished Murphy put Caitlin through an accelerated firearms course. It began with a safety lecture, followed by a brief introduction to Caitlin’s weapons, and a half hour of target practice. The girl had a good eye… And both weapons were equipped with laser sights. So by the time the session was over Caitlin could hit a man-sized target with some regularity.

  Next it was time to load up and move out. The latest conversation with Overwatch had been no better than the first. The legion was still stretched thin—and still unable to pull them out. Or were they unwilling? That was Murphy’s guess. It was, he supposed, a matter of priorities. As for why Governor Smith wasn’t in the mix, that remained a mystery.

  A straight line is always the shortest route between two points. But that didn’t mean it was the fastest. Not in the jungle. So Murphy was forced to follow a series of meandering trails, switching as necessary, to stay on course. A practice the drone made possible by scouting ahead.

  After two hours of walking they emerged from the forest onto a U-shaped trough. It was about a hundred feet wide, about fifteen feet deep, and ran straight as an arrow toward the south. It was as if a giant had passed that way, dragging his staff along behind him.

  Though covered with low-lying plants, only a few widely separated trees were growing in the trough. That made for easy walking, and Murphy decided to follow it. But Pylo II was near its zenith by then… And the combined heat from the sun and Murphy’s war form would make things miserable for Caitlin. She hadn’t complained though… And the cyborg’s opinion of her continued to climb. That’s what he was thinking when she spoke over the intercom. “Murphy… Look up! I see a wing!”

  Murphy looked up expecting to see some sort of aircraft. But what he actually saw was something different. The “wing” Caitlin had referred to was a bird that was shaped like an Earthly manta ray. Except that it was flying through air instead of water.

  “Run!” Caitlin said, as the creature circled above them. “Find a place to make a stand… The varmin watch the wings, and when they circle above potential prey, the varmin attack. Hundreds of them… After they feed the wing will land and eat whatever remains.”

  The information had a familiar ring to it. As if the information was buried in the planetary orientation crap that Murphy had been ordered to download upon arrival.

  But, based on the urgency in Caitlin’s voice, Murphy was willing to take her word for how dangerous the situation was. So he ran. And the obvious destination was the manmade something up ahead. A ship? Which was large enough, and heavy enough, to carve a furrow in the ground? Maybe.

  Murphy could run at a speed of 50mph on open ground. The knee-high foliage slowed his pace. But even at 40mph Murphy was making progress. And a good thing too, because varmin had begun to appear on both sides of the U-shaped trough.

  They were small feathered bipedal animals, with long, narrow skulls. Big eyes stared down on the humans as they ran past. That was when Murphy heard a blood-curdling chitter and sensed that the creatures were going to attack.

  Murphy swore and Caitlin struggled to hold on as the cyborg drew level with the ship’s stern. He saw a jagged hole and had to duck to pass through it. The compartment beyond was home to some incomprehensible equipment. A hatch opened into the ship’s belly but, when Murphy attempted to close the door, it wouldn’t budge. That meant there were two ways for the critters to enter.

  “Get down,” Murphy ordered. “Your job is to guard that hatch. Don’t let any of those things get inside. Understood?”

  Caitlin said, “Yes,” and hurried to get in position. And not a moment too soon as the varmin rushed the ship. Even though the feathered creatures were small, they had a lot of teeth and claw-equipped tails. That made them deadly in large numbers.

  Murphy stood in the gap and fired the fifty. He soon discovered that while the big slugs killed three or four varmin at a time—it wasn’t going to stop the m
ob. So he slaved the energy cannon to the drone above, and allowed the machine to select targets. It felt weird to have an external force control his arm but there were definite benefits.

  The laser had to recharge in between each shot. But, thanks to the drone’s computer, each bolt hit a target. That meant the energy cannon was killing twenty animals a minute. And the combined kill rate was much higher.

  Meanwhile Murphy could hear the systematic crack, crack, crack of the carbine. Caitlin was doing her job. But what would happen when she ran out of ammo? The answer was obvious. The carnivores would take her down. Rather than allow that to happen Murphy stepped outside.

  His plan was simple: Pull the varmin away from Caitlin, force the animals to bunch up, and slaughter them. And it worked. Sort of. Rivers of chittering varmin poured in to surround the cyborg. So many that he couldn’t kill them quickly enough. And it wasn’t long until they were gnawing on his armor. Murphy kicked the creatures, stomped some into a bloody pulp, and continued to blast the rest. All to no avail. Then, as if a signal had been sounded, the attack stopped. The animals disappeared into the surrounding foliage.

  A shadow passed over Murphy. And, when he looked up, Murphy saw the manta-shaped wing. Not only would the scavenger lead the varmin to their prey, it would feast on them if they were killed. Murphy turned to find that Caitlin was exiting the ship. “You did a good job,” Murphy told her. “A very good job. Come on… Let’s haul butt before every scavenger in the jungle shows up for a free meal.”

  Caitlin didn’t flinch as she surveyed the sea of dead bodies. Nor did she throw up. “We kicked their asses, Murph… We kicked ’em good.”

  It was the kind of thing that one of Murphy’s fellow legionnaires might have said, and he smiled. Except that Murphy didn’t have a face to smile with.

  Once Caitlin was strapped in they left. It was possible to walk next to the ship most of the time. But when the walls of the trough began to close in on them Murphy had to climb up into the steadily encroaching jungle. They put the wreck behind them after a quarter mile or so. The canopy was lower, which meant the undergrowth was thicker, and difficult to push through. In fact, the vegetation was so thick that the cyborg had to use his energy cannon like a machete at times.