Far Country

by Fanpro

  That should serve you for the life of the LAM, or yours. Whichever comes first."

  Takuda and Vost climbed onto the back of the LAM so that the DEST commander could see the laser default system. They broke into the access panel and threw the switches that controlled the power feed to the weapons system. When Vost explained that the machine guns would still work, Takuda decided that leaving those active was probably a good idea. The short-range defense weapons might make a difference if the LAM ever got into trouble.

  With the side of the DropShip split down to the ground, the entire cargo area was exposed. The rest of the 'Mechs stood mute against the bulkheads, forgotten toys awaiting some call from the future. The other pilots could not resist climbing into their cockpits to check circuits and servos. There were no orders to deploy as yet, but it looked like they might still get their chance. The pilots felt a surge of hope. Even Jacobs, whose training on a 'Mech had occurred so long ago, could feel the urge to break the machines free. It had been a decade since he'd last sat in his father's 'Mech, but the instinct was still there.

  When the LAM was completely clear, Seagroves reported to Takuda and Vost. The DEST commander took the pilot aside. "You will be in a very delicate position, Mr. Seagroves. It is important that you make as little contact as possible with the humans. We don't know the situation, and we don't want to stumble into something that could overwhelm us. Be very careful. Stay as high as you can and still get some idea about what the enclaves are like. Just be careful."

  Seagroves nodded. With the briefing over, he and Vost began the climb to the LAM cockpit. "Get low," said Vost. "Low enough that they can see you and you can see how they react. As far as contact goes, Takuda's right. We don't want to get committed until we have more information." Seagroves nodded agreement to these instructions as well.

  The mercenaries and the DEST team "stood clear as Seagroves fired up the LAM. The clouds of exhaust poured out of the ruptured hull, enveloping most of the ship in a ball of glowing smoke. Then in a shattering burst the LAM came free from the restraining shackles and raced across the landing zone. The last those on the site saw of it, the craft was in a vertical power climb. Seagroves was in his element at last.

  15

  Seagroves settled deeper into the economically designed command seat of the LAM. It had been a long time since he'd felt the craft's raw strength under him, and he reveled in the power that vibrated through his being. It was wonderful. Above him the blue sky also seemed to vibrate with happiness. He thought about rolling the Phoenix Hawk over into a vertical dive over the campsite. Wouldn't that give those ground-bound slugs a thrill? But he thought better of it. He needed to test the control response. He needed to re-learn the process of flying. He pushed forward on the starboard control arm and brought the LAM to level flight.

  The LAM's cockpit was crammed with levers, switches* gauges, and lights. The Phoenix Hawk, designed to fly like a bird and walk like a man, had the controls for both modes. A standard 'Mech was a complicated piece of equipment with control sticks for both hands. The joystick, which sat between the pilot's legs and was controlled by his right hand, took care of movement vector as well as the weapon aiming systems. The left hand controlled speed and gross balance. The neurohelmet, specifically designed to react to the nervous system of the pilot, responded with sighting and fine balance. On the dashboard in front of the pilot was the weapons targeting system, spectral analysis panel, sensor array, radar plot, I/R plot, and communications system.

  The gauges and sensors that reported on the status of the 'Mech's various control systems were also laid out in convenient clusters. Dials and digital displays would indicate the status of heat buildup, a nasty problem for all 'Mechs, as well as the status of heat sinks, ammunition, fuel, lubrication temperature, and power output. Across the bottom of the panel, just above the pilot's knees, was a ground status sensor display, which was designed as a plot plan indicator readout much like a standard radar or I/R screen. But instead of showing specific objects, the plot showed the perceived condition of the ground in and around the 'Mech. Direct observation of the ground was a problem for a 'Mech pilot. The ground status sensor felt the ground even before the 'Mech placed its feet down, warning the pilot, both through the color of the display and a warning klaxon if necessary, about the solidity of the ground surface. Most pilots learned to sense the shifts in colors that rippled across the display. Really good pilots could make their 'Mechs run at very high speeds without consciously consulting the terrain sensors. Pilots who could do that commanded machines like the light Locust 'Mechs. Good peripheral vision and a fine sense of balance were what those required.

  All the controls and sensors for a ground-bound 'Mech filled the normal cockpit. The Phoenix Hawk had all those as well as the controls for a flying weapons platform. Because the 'Mech had been designed to fulfill both functions, the controls remained in the cockpit. When the system was in flight mode, the normal joystick was locked in the neutral position and the controls for the Hawk were activated. The flight control system used dual control wands in much the same way that the ground system did. Instead of having the central control between the pilot's legs, the wand hinged from a bar that rose on the starboard side of the cockpit. The top of the bar was a hinged stick that dropped across the right leg, placed so that the pilot's right hand dropped naturally onto the bar. The back of the hand and the first joints held the stick under control, and there were five buttons for triggering the weapons with fingers and thumb. The left hand had a similar bar that maintained flight speed and engine power output.

  On either side of the display were the readouts for the Hawk system. The designers had fought over which system should have the central position, and the designers of the Phoenix had eventually won. They had reasoned that the 'Mech would spend most of its time on the ground, and therefore the ground systems should have priority. Seagroves didn't agree. Even if he spent most of his time on the ground, he only came alive when he was in the air. That was living, that was power, that was reality. The designers were desk-bound gnomes who used their brains to solve problems. They hadn't asked a pilot what he wanted. And so they'd solved their design problems with calculators and computer graphics. So what if it all worked fine on their computer screens? Real life was different.

  Seagroves let his eyes sweep over the dials and readouts. Every fifteen seconds his eyes made the sweep from upper left, across the top of the displays, down the right side, and then across the bottom to the starting point. It was not a conscious act, and there was no requirement that he understand what each dial represented. The systems had been placed on the panel so that all the indicator arrows pointed in the same direction to be green. All that the eye saw and the brain recorded was a mass of little wands pointing the same way. It didn't matter if the dial were upside down, cocked to the right, or cocked to the left. As long as the arrows were in the same direction, the Seagroves knew he had a good panel. As a trained and experienced pilot, his eyes made the sweep every fifteen seconds. Some pilots never got the routine, but most of those were buried by now, six feet under. There were old pilots and bold pilots, but there were no old, bold pilots. Seagroves was daring when he had to be, but he was as safety-conscious as the best of them. That was how LAM pilot became an experienced LAM pilot. Seagroves was experienced and intended to stay that way.

  He rocked the LAM left and right, feeling the response and noting that the controls were a little sluggish when commanded to move left. He didn't know whether it was the LAM or his stiffness at the controls, but his subconscious noted the hitch in the movement, storing the information away for future reference. He would have to check the systems when he landed. Pitch and yaw controls were checked as well, and his eyes continued to make their sweep across the panel. Good board, good board, good board.

  Seagroves had been slouching along at 450 kilometers per hour, headed west, ever since gaining level flight. The LAM was trimmed in a slight nose-up attitude and had been gaining altit
ude as it traversed the ground. The system check complete, he turned his attention to the mission. With the LAM's throttle forward, nose up, Seagroves brought it to an altitude of 10,000 meters, or 10 angels, at 900 kilometers per hour. He punched in the look-down sensor array and watched the screen blossom with ground configuration and infrared signatures. Three distinct targets appeared at once. Those were the enclaves he was looking for. He pointed the nose north and began his first sweep.

  He remembered the instructions of both Takuda and Vost. The DEST commander wanted high reconnaissance only; Vost wanted him to get down and dirty. No sense committing the LAM to a low pass until he had some information. Seagroves reached forward and toggled the ground flight recorder. From now on, what he saw, it would see. What he did, it would record.

  All three enclaves were as had initially been described by the furry alien. Great systems of moats and walls extended from the banks of the broad river to enclose the central, metropolitan areas. The northernmost enclave was laid out in a square system of roads with large central plazas at regular intervals. From 10 angels, Seagroves could see dots of green that indicated vegetation placed at regular intervals between the broad streets. At the center of the enclave stood a huge building, the roof reflecting red. The sensor display recorded a multi-storied building in a pagoda style reminiscent of some of the government buildings favored by the Draconis Combine. The structure, a castle, was surrounded by a broad park with a triple wall beyond. Very regular, very strong, very secure. Seagroves rolled the LAM away from that enclave and turned south along the west bank of the river.

  The next settlement had the same wall and moat system guarding its eastern, landward, side. The configuration was different from the first one, but the extent of the works was identical. The roads within the final wall were not laid out in the four-square pattern of the first, but looked like a giant pond of water lilies, the centers of the flowers surrounded by looping roads that formed the petals. The flowers were laid out in concentric circles that surrounded and were surrounded by a larger pattern with a huge, central edifice. The scanner showed another multi-storied building, but unlike the castle in the earlier enclave, this building was lower and considerably more sprawling. The entire structure was surrounded by paired pillars that supported inverted arches. There were significant open spaces within the enclosure, and many of the gardens were set on the various roofs of the building itself. The central structure was a windowless dome in the geometrical center of the compound and the enclave.

  The third enclave repeated the walls and moat, but the entire system was a jumble of defensive works. Any attacker would find himself in a defense system that made no apparent sense at all. Seagroves noted that there were portions of the moat that seemed to have silted over to form bright green marshes. Other portions were better maintained, and some of the walls were guarded by massive towers and outguards. Within the walls the look of the defenses was equally chaotic. The streets were laid out with no apparent geometrical pattern. They were short and broad and began and ended for no apparent reason. Many of the structures had no streets at all between them, just narrow alleys. There was no central building like those in the other enclaves, but several dominating structures instead. Each of the larger buildings had its own defense system of walls and moats, but like the ones that guarded the entire enclave, they showed various states of repair and construction. The situation here did not look too promising.

  Seagroves continued south along the river for ten minutes and then turned the LAM back north. He had accomplished the mission according to Takuda's orders; now was the time to do what Vost wanted. He toggled off the ground flight recorder. From now on what he saw, only he would see. There would be no official record of his actions. He decoupled the entire flight record system, noting the inertial plot indicator readout for future reference. He would return to this spot, or close to it, before he reactivated the record. He could always claim a system malfunction if he got the plot a little off the mark. Systems were known to fail. Takuda would never know what happened. The DEST commander, like every other member of his strike team, was qualified to pilot a 'Mech, but he was not experienced in a LAM. Besides, the old fellow had other things to worry about.

  Seagroves rolled the LAM into a split-S and took her down. This would be seat-of-the-pants flying at its best. With all the record-keeping systems deactivated, there would be no readouts in the cockpit. The pilot checked the weather and visibility: CAVU. Down he went.

  The LAM leveled off at 200 meters and throttled down to 300 kilometers per hour. Seagroves saw no use in blasting across the terrain so fast that he couldn't see anything. Even at this speed he had to keep the LAM well nosed up to maintain control. The chaotic wall system of the southern enclave flashed beneath his wings, and he was over the city proper.

  From the people down below Seagroves got the reaction that he'd expected: they either stood and gaped or ran for the protection of the buildings. Seagroves streaked across the sky, leaving behind a trail of excitement and awe. The northern section of wall passed beneath his wings. Nothing unexpected so far ... except.... Something among the jumble of streets and buildings had caught his attention. It was something he knew he should think about, but he couldn't get a clear image in his mind. He rolled the LAM over and made another pass above the roofs of the city. And now he knew! There was gold everywhere.

  Seagroves felt his heart leap in his chest. It was gold. Of that there was no doubt. And it was all over the city. He felt the sweat spring from the palms of his hands. He started to shake. He looked for a place to set the LAM down. Just ahead was an opening among the buildings. He needed a bigger area to put the LAM down, but caution had fled. Seagroves pulled back on the control bar, reached forward to toggle the Phoenix system. He felt the shudder of the 'Mech's legs coming down. There was a jolt as the huge metal feet touched something solid.

  16

  Clouds of dust rose from around the LAM as it settled into the upright position. Seagroves squinted through the bubble screen of the cockpit to see what stood beyond. He could feel his heart racing; he was frantic to get outside. He pounded on the quick release of his harness, unaware that the clips had come free on the first stroke. Not wanting to waste time, he pushed the control bars out of his way and snapped open the cockpit emergency access hatch instead of dismounting through the normal rear opening and down the chain ladder. The coaxial cable connected to the neurohelmet nearly strangled him as he leaped up from his seat. Sinking back into his seat again, he disengaged the bayonet quick release.

  The momentary obstacle made him pause. He put his hand to his chest and felt the racing staccato beat of his heart. Got to get myself under control, he thought. What if these people are armed? What if they start shooting? I'd better be more careful. He forced himself to breathe deeply. Ah, he thought, that's better. He let some of the dust clear from his vision screen.

  There was the city. The building directly in front of the LAM was one of the more substantial structures he'd seen on his first two passes. The front had been slightly damaged by the exhaust gases of the LAM drive, and it was pockmarked where bits of rubble from the street had blown against it. The openings in the face of the building had probably been glazed, but the force of the landing blast as well as the debris had removed all of it. Blank openings stared back at the LAM pilot. Seagroves might have felt remorse at the damage he'd caused, but that was not the emotion that flooded through his body as he sat in the command chair. He could see the glint of gold even among the debris.

  He leaned forward in his seat to get a better look, squinting through the settling dust at the bright points of light in every window. The window frame catches were of gold. Gold! GOLD! His mouth went dry. This must be the most important building in the entire enclave. The people must be so rich that they could secure their windows with latches of gold. He started to giggle. He looked again at the facade. It was beyond his comprehension.

  The window latches were of gold. So were the k
nobs on the great doors that stood directly in front of the LAM. So were the hinges on the doors. And the door knockers. And the light fixtures on the walls. His eyes swept down the street. The street lamps were of gold. So were the sewer covers. This place was a dream come true. He was so busy cataloguing the wealth that he didn't notice the people beginning to gather in the streets.

  At first it was only a few faces at the windows, the ones that had been blasted open as well as those that still had glass. Then there were figures at the doors, and finally there were people creeping out of the buildings and hugging the walls. Blank faces stared up at the towering piece of machinery that had descended on them without warning. Fear and awe were reflected in their eyes. No one approached the LAM.

  At last Seagroves could stand the tension no longer. He had to get closer to the gold. The neurohelmet disconnected, he crawled out the port side of the cockpit emergency access hatch. It was only then that he became aware of the people standing in the small square, and only then because they began to scream.

  The people shrank back from the LAM, pressing themselves against the sides of the buildings or back into the doorways. Windows slammed shut. That was when they began to scream, to cover their eyes with their hands and scream. Several fell unconscious to the pavement. Seagroves took only mild notice of the commotion he had obviously caused the citizens of this small enclave. He stood on the shoulder of the 'Mech, his hands dangling at his sides, and stared at the glow of the gold.