The Gates of Hell

by Chris Kennedy

  “What are you doing?”

  “Something really stupid, don’t move.”

  Half a minute later, Jenkins heard a slap on the top of his canopy. “Okay, stand up,” said Chuck. As Jenkins stood, he said, “Damn, you really can do anything with paracord and duct tape.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Just keep your armor between me and the doggies, and I should be fine. Now let’s get Sarge. You get me out there, and I should be able to drag him back.”

  “Guys, we’re gonna get Sarge, just give us covering fire. You ready, Chuck?”

  “Let’s do this.”

  Jenkins snapped out the blades on both arms of his mech and stepped out before anyone could talk them out of it.

  “Le Roi! Jenkins!” shouted Callen. “Crap, they just went out. Stick to the plan!”

  Jenkins charged toward the fallen mech, but Buckley was the only one unaware of the rescue plan. He was already out of his suit, his back against the pillbox, .45 held against his chest as he tried to peek around the corner to see if the Zuul were coming.

  Jenkins and le Roi could see the Zuul were gathering to rush Buckley. Le Roi tried to hose them down with the minigun, but he only got a short burst off before they ducked back behind the barricade. “Well, crap, let’s get them.” Chuck turned around in his improvised sling on the hoisting rings and waved on the rest of the troops.

  Callen shook his head in disbelief, then shouted to the rest, “Cavaliers! Lead the charge!” and set off for the barricade.

  “Hold on tight!” Jenkins shouted. Just as he approached the barricade, he held down the jump button. The hydraulic pumps whined as the accumulators fully loaded. The machine crouched and exploded upward as the dump valves let full pressure into the leg actuators. They cleared the barricade with inches to spare. They didn’t clear half a dozen unfortunate Zuul who were behind it. Chuck worked the minigun in a frenzy, firing burst after burst into the troops stationed behind the barricade now that he had a clear shot. Those who got too close were dispatched by the twin blades as they chopped up and down, pretty much the limit of their primitive range of motion, but devastatingly effective when they connected. In moments they were joined by the rest of their group. The Zuul defense crumpled soon after.

  * * *

  “You guys are effing maniacs, you know that, right?” Buckley said to the pair after the Cavaliers had finished securing the area. “You’ve gotta have Emperor Mong on speed dial.”

  “Eh, if it’s stupid but it works, it’s not stupid,” shot back le Roi.

  “And let’s not forget that business with the claymore,” added Jenkins.

  “Feh, if it’s stupid but it works, it’s still stupid. I’m just amazed I came out of this alive. You guys nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  * * *

  Dr. Mauser had partied in college, but even the rowdiest frat party was nothing like a night out celebrating with mercs. Singly and in groups, nearly every Cavalier sought him out to tell him what they thought of the new machines, slap his shoulder, or put another drink in his hand.

  Jim Cartwright mounted the stage at the end of the bar and smacked a beer stein with something metal in his hand to get everyone’s attention. A respectful silence blanketed the bar. “Just a couple of announcements. I just got off the phone with the hospital, and Lieutenant Buckley is going to pull through. They said he died for about thirty seconds, but you know Joe, he keeps coming back for more. Hopefully he won’t have another heart attack when he finds out he’s an officer now. In other promotions, Jenkins, le Roi, Callen, and Henderson, congratulations on making sergeant. Peterson, Mulford, and Lazarus, congratulations on advancing to corporal. And congratulations to you all for coming home with zero casualties!” He raised his glass and saluted before taking a drink as the men whooped.

  After he descended the stage, Jim sought out Paul and shook his hand. “I just wanted to thank you again for all your hard work. And here’s a token of my appreciation.” He pressed the metal object into Paul’s hand. It was a challenge coin with the logo of Cartwright’s Cavaliers impressed on it. “Consider yourself an Honorary Cavalier.”

  “I don’t know what to…Thank you. But you know, there’s still a lot of work to be done.”

  * * *

  Block 3 testing was going well. The new batteries were providing better life, and they’d been able to expand the capabilities of the shoulder mounts to add rocket launchers. Paul returned to his office to find three strangers in it, one in a suit, and two in Mitsubishi Security uniforms. The Suit was holding one of his models.

  “Uh, that’s a rare Strelizia Maquette. They only made a hundred of them.”

  “Why does this toy robot have tits?”

  “It’s a Japanese thing. You should see how the pilots drive it. In any case, who are you and what are you doing in my office?”

  The suit put down the figure, and Paul released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding when it appeared to be undamaged. “Edward Johnson, Corporate Investigations.” He handed Paul his card. “When was the last time you saw Yoshihiro Yashimoto?”

  Paul had to think for a minute. “In person? Huh, it’s been over a month since the Block Three launch meeting. I think I got an e-mail from him on Monday…” He went to his desk. “Where’s my computer?”

  “That’s Mitsubishi’s computer, and this is Mitsubishi’s office. This facility is being shut down until we can figure out the mess you people have made. How you can show the profits you’ve been making when you’ve only shipped two of the product you’re supposed to be building in the last two years, and then where the money’s gone. The forensic accountants are going to have their hands full untangling this. Apparently Yashimoto has been accepting payments in Galactic Credits instead of electronic transfers, which is against corporate guidelines, and a lot of that money appears to be missing.”

  “I had no idea…”

  “As for this unauthorized program of yours, well, it does seem to be successful, but this is not what Cargo Handling Systems is supposed to be doing. While we’re straightening this out, the Defense Systems division will be taking it over. And you’ll be on administrative leave. These two gentlemen will be ensuring that you remove your personal property, and only your personal property, from this office. Although it appears we’ll need some more boxes…and a cart.”

  “Wait, what?!”

  “If it’s any consolation, we’ve already looked into your finances, and you probably won’t be implicated, but what’s gone on here can’t be allowed to continue. We can’t have whole divisions deciding willy-nilly to abandon their business and do something else. I’m sure they’ll find something else for you to do once our investigation is completed.”

  Paul was dumbfounded. His guts felt like they were full of ice water. Everything he’d been working on, all the good he was doing, had just been yanked out from under him.

  Johnson walked out of the office but turned back at the door. “If Yashimoto does contact you, you have my card. And don’t leave Houston; you need to be available for further interviews.”

  * * *

  Chariclo—a “Centaur” Microplanet between Saturn and Uranus.

  “…and that was pretty much the end of it for me. After Defense took over the CASPer production, they just kept cranking out the last block for years. They tried to develop a Mk 2, but it was such a disaster they almost canceled the whole program. I think the project director actually committed ritual suicide.”

  “That’s not a normal Human behavior, not that I’ve heard of,” said the small alien “seated” across from the terribly elderly Paul Mauser.

  “It’s a Japanese thing. He cost the company a fortune and couldn’t stand the humiliation. It was quite the scandal, too. It was almost the end of the CASPer, until Binnig came along and took over the business. The rest is history.”

  “It’s a fascinating history, too. Researching it for this job was very enlightening. Military history is a hobby of mine as
well.”

  “As for me, it turned out Mitsubishi finally had the funds to buy their own ship, and nine months later, I was given a new assignment at Ceres station. I had most of my success with microgravity mining and in-situ refining technology. I hear Jim put in a CASPer museum or something with a Tri-V of me in it, but I’ve never seen it. I haven’t been back to Earth since my accident. I did a lot of work on cybernetic prosthetics, but I never liked them myself. I just prefer it in space. I even bought this science outpost and retired to it. Most people don’t even know about the Centaurs. But I love Chariclo in particular because it’s the only one with its own ring system.”

  “It’s very unusual, indeed, for such a small body to have rings.”

  “I like the solitude, and the gravity is so low, there’s just enough that things stay where I put them. But these days, it seems like everyone can get anywhere in the solar system in a small ship. Why, a month ago there was a crew doing a documentary for the 60th anniversary of the CASPer who came by for an interview.”

  “That’s actually how I found you. My employer is very keen on having me meet every Human involved in the creation of CASPers.”

  “Well, I guess you’re in luck, I think I may be the last of them.”

  “Indeed, you’re the only one on my list still alive.”

  Mauser closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. A few moments later, he looked at the alien, and asked, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your species before. What are you called?”

  “Very few Humans have. I’m what you call a Depik.”

  * * * * *

  Richard Alan Chandler Bio

  Richard Alan Chandler lives in the Pacific Northwest with two incredibly lucky black cats. He’s been everything from a Software Developer to a Taxi Driver to an Aviation Machinist. He’s been into science fiction since he read his first Heinlein at age nine, and he’s been playing at writing for almost as long. This is his first story in the Four Horsemen Universe.

  Find him at https://www.amazon.com/Richard-Alan-Chandler/e/B00I3GOHZ2/.

  * * * * *

  Unnatural Selection by Dan Bridgwater

  Jesalic, commander of the Zuul Company KayHan Scout Runners, strode down the ramp of the drop ship and stared into the ruins. Turning his head, he shouted, “Karilisan! On me!” As the younger Zuul caught up, the older looked over his shoulder and continued, “This is your first contract; don’t get overwhelmed. The XO is taking the rest of the company to get the camp set up, but your focus is to get into the existing security network and see where we can make it better. The Besquith gave us the mission brief, but I don’t think they told us everything.”

  They’d emerged from hyperspace the previous day and had been contacted by the Besquith liaison, Srentaal. The discussion had focused on the specific requirements of the contract. The Runners would be providing basic security around the camp and on the perimeter of the dig site. Within the camp, things had gone missing. Slates, small boxes that contained recovered artifacts, and even food had gone astray. They had thought it simply a matter of the smaller local fauna, attracted to the new or shiny. But there was never anything on the security footage, and the Besquith themselves never heard or smelled anything that the cameras missed.

  “It’s all well and good to be hired to provide defensive forces, but they still won’t tell us what they’re doing here. I want to know.” Jesalic looked around, making sure they were alone. “Now, tell me again what you found out.”

  “Yes, sir,” Karilisan replied. “First, they’re not mercs. They seem to be a family unit and, depending on which entry in the Galnet you read, they’re either paleontologists or archeologists.” He looked at the ancient broken tower that dominated the landscape. “Given where we landed, I’d bet they’re trying to find usable Great War tech to sell—either to other Besquith or on the black market.”

  Jesalic nodded. That last bit matched his own thoughts. He looked out over the existing Besquith camp and snorted. He glanced over to Karilisan and saw the rookie harbored the same doubts about the layout of the camp. “They’re so used to being the apex predator,” he whispered over to Karilisan, “they really don’t know how to do defense. Oh, their professionals can, of course. They hate it, but they can. But these guys?” He gestured toward the encampment. “That just sucks. The fields of fire are cluttered, lines of sight are bad or nonexistent, all sorts of dead space, and cover right up to the walls. This isn’t even ‘I read a manual once’ good. Something has them spooked, and they’re not talking. It’s time to harass Srentaal again.”

  Coming into the camp, they spotted the Besquith liaison. Jesalic walked over to the Besquith and greeted it with a nod. “Srentaal. We need to talk. My tech,” he gestured to Karilisan, “needs access to your network. He must see your security arrangements and audit the archive data.”

  Srentaal looked irritated by the intrusion. “The alpha has agreed to this, but he,” it pointed at Karilisan, “cannot be there unescorted, yes? If he attempts to enter the command center without me, he will be killed, as would any of you should you come in without escort,” it warned.

  Karilisan’s hackles rose. Both races might loosely resemble canines, but if the Zuul were hounds, the Besquith were great dire wolves. Any threat from them was serious.

  “Believe me, none of my pack wants your secrets,” Jesalic replied soothingly. “My troops will happily patrol outside, but Karilisan hunts his prey in the computers. He can’t do that out here. Also, he needs remote access to the cameras and other sensors. I don’t care about your dig, but without remote access, there will be a Zuul in your center all day, every day. None of us want that.”

  Srentaal nodded. “I’ve spoken to the alpha on this, and she agreed. But just the sensors and the sensor archives. Come.” Not watching to see if they followed, Srentaal began to trot toward a metal shipping container near the base of the tower.

  Entering the container, Karilisan saw it had been converted into a small command center. Four large monitors above a desk flipped through different views of areas around the camp, and a second desk appeared to have a basic analysis workstation set up. He nodded his head in appreciation. The design was efficient. As he got out his slate and prepared it to integrate into the network, he turned to his commander. “This is good, sir. I’ll pull a map of the surrounding area and then build a diagram of the sensor lay-down. Once I get the remote access node up, we’ll be able to hit the sensor net from our command tent.”

  Jesalic nodded. “Good. I need to get back to our camp. The XO will have them working, but I need to set up the patrols. We need to know the area. You can call me if you need to.” He paused and looked directly at Karilisan. “I don’t expect you to need to.” Jesalic turned and was quickly gone from sight.

  Karilisan sat at the sensor station and started running the diagnostic and mapping programs. He needed to know where all the sensors were before he could look to improve the layout. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the presence of the Besquith behind him was too much. Feeling like every hair on his spine was trying to crawl up to his head, he turned to address Srentaal. “So…you’ve told us of the missing equipment and the failure of the sensors to catch anything; what do you think is going on?”

  Srentaal glowered and then shook its head. “At first, like the others, I thought it was some small creature coming into the camp to steal shiny things. But it was never on camera, and most of the local animals stay far from us. They don’t taste good, but some of the pack have found it a pleasant diversion to chase and hunt them. So they stay away. No. I think there’s something here. Something smart, not an animal. Something smart enough to avoid detection.”

  Karilisan thought it over. “Smart, you mean sapient? Something from…” He gestured toward the tower.

  “Maybe. Some have said natives, but I doubt it. There are no signs beyond small, primitive mammaloids or reptoid life. Some have said pirates seeking to steal our artifacts. If it were pirates, I think
they would have attacked us. We’re Besquith, but we aren’t many. But the possibility of pirates is the reason the alpha decided we needed security. We’re too far from Bestald to get a proper Besquith unit, so we hired you.” Srentaal paused and then chuckled. “Some of the others think we’ve angered some ghost or spirit, but that’s stupid. No, it’s something else, but I don’t know what.”

  The slate beeped. Karilisan turned and saw that it had completed its initial sweep of the sensors. “OK,” he began, “it looks like we have three directional listening stations, and nine cameras, although I only show eight displays. Did you know you have a camera down?” he asked, turning back to Srentaal.

  “Nine? There are only eight cameras…”

  * * *

  The discovery of the unknown device brought Jesalic back to the command center, along with the alpha. It was the first time Karilisan had seen the Besquith leader. She was enormous. With her towering over him, Karilisan felt the command center was very small indeed.

  “Sir, ma’am,” Karilisan said. “Over the last 10 minutes, I’ve been attempting to access the device. It’s acting like a camera, based on the protocols, but the access codes are being refused. I have a couple of programs trying to force access, and we should have something soon.”

  “Do we know where it is?” asked the alpha, her voice low and harsh.

  “No, ma’am. Based on the return times, close, on site, but I should be in momentarily.” A beep interrupted him. “We’re in.” Karilisan checked the slate and turned to the alpha. “With your permission, I’m going to access the feed and put it right here,” he said, indicating one of the large monitors.

  The alpha nodded.