by Fanpro
The whole thing had seemed like a good idea when they'd first talked it out, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted any part of it. He didn't care, one way or the other, who was to be the leader of their little society, but he couldn't accept violence as the means of choosing that person. Vost's idea of putting it to a vote was a good one, though Davud wasn't quite sure whom he'd vote for if it came to that. Vost had a lot of good ideas, but Takuda seemed an honorable man.
Now Davud lay in the access passage listening for the sounds that would tell him what was going on. He'd heard the roar of the jump jets when the 'Mechs had fired them in the cargo hold. The shock had been enough to make the derelict hulk of the DropShip tremble from top to bottom. Then had come a series of explosions from outside as well. Now there was silence. He strained to hear any sound of movement. When no one came, he continued to crawl toward the emergency lighting panel access port that hung at the end of the passage. With his hand resting on the switches, Davud paused for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to illuminate the scene. He didn't know the situation, and light might just exacerbate an already potential disaster. He held his breath and threw the switches.
The soft, blue-green emergency lights flooded from the back-up illumination panels. Carefully raising his head, Davud scanned the cargo hold, but the lingering skeins of gossamer smoke gently eddying in the air made it hard to see much. That the cargo hold was a jumble of twisted frames and broken spars confused him at first. Smoking bales of unidentifiable debris were scattered across the deck and piled around the two 'Mechs that still stood forlornly against the rear bulkhead. Davud stared at the 'Mechs, trying to figure out what made them suddenly look different when they'd always looked identical to him before. Perhaps, he thought, it was only because he was viewing them from the new angle.
Then something moving on the deck drew his attention. He studied the area, trying to catch it again. Then he saw it. It was a man crawling ever so slowly across the metal plating. He was leaving a distinct trail of something dark and light behind him. Davud felt his stomach rise in his mouth, the bitter taste of his own gorge pressing against his teeth. The black trail was blood, the light stuff was the man's entrails.
Another man bent over the crawling figure. Davud saw that he, like the wounded man, was dressed from head to foot in black. Then he noticed other black-draped figures picking their way through the rubble. The DEST team held the cargo area.
* * *
Takuda straightened up from his position over Roland Dupe. There wasn't much he could do for him, even with the advanced medical systems they had with them. Dupe had been climbing one of the 'Mechs, using a grapple rod to reach a delicate arm joint or perhaps the jet propulsion unit that gave the 'Mech its jump capability. But the 'Mech had made its move before the DEST commando could plant his explosive charges. It had been a brave but foolhardy move on the part of Dupe, yet just the sort of action the man would try. All Takuda could do now was to make him as comfortable as possible.
He searched for the wounded man's personal medikit, which was normally strapped to the calf of a DEST member's inside right leg. But Takuda found no right leg, at least nothing where the medikit should have been. He would have searched the other leg, but it too was gone below the knee.
Roland Dupe squirmed on toward the opening in the hull of the DropShip, but Takuda reached down and restrained him. "It's all right, Dupe. You're safe here."
Dupe rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at his commander. Takuda could see the effort as he tried to focus. The man's eyes cleared and he looked up into those of Takuda kneeling beside him. He reached up and grasped the collar of the black battle suit. "I'm done," he gasped. "Isn't that the way it always is for me? I was just doing my job and the others didn't help. I'm always the one who gets it in the shorts."
Griping to the last, though Takuda. Yes, he mused, Roland Dupe was done. There was nothing anyone here could do for him. "You did well," he said. "No one could have done better."
Dupe shuddered as a wave of pain swept over him. Takuda could see that the wounds were not restricted to his legs alone. The man had been gutted like a perch, split from crotch to chin. His whole interior was pouring from what was left of his battle suit. The dying man put both hands on the collar of his commander. "Finish ... me," he gasped. "Finish me." He fell back against the metallic plating of the deck.
Takuda rose and stared, unseeing, at the fallen soldier.
There was nothing he could do to help him, nothing he could do to ease the pain. He had syringes of anesthesia in his own medikit, but there was not enough painkiller in all of DEST to alleviate what Dupe was feeling. The wretched, twisted face looked up at him, the eyes silent and imploring. Without seeing, without even being fully aware of what he was doing, Takuda drew the needier pistol from the holster at the small of his back. Almost in slow motion he brought the weapon around and pointed it into the face of the wounded man. He could not fire. Dupe was lying on the plates, his back arched in pain, his eyes closed.
Then the eyes of the wounded man popped open and he saw his fate above him. For an instant he stared at the pistol, knew what was about to happen. A look of fear spread over the grimace of pain. Then he relaxed and looked into the face of his commander. Dupe smiled and nodded. Takuda squeezed the trigger, firing the entire clip.
Takuda stood for a moment at the side of the dead man. Around him was the chaos of a battle won, or at least a battle not lost. Two of the 'Mechs had escaped, but the two light Locusts were still in the cargo hold. His team had been hit hard, though. With Dupe now dead at his feet, that was three DEST members gone. Saitan Yura had died at the mouth of the cargo hold, taking a shot from a heavy slug pistol through the face. And Oite Inaduma had made one heroic charge too many with his antitank weapon. While rising, the LAM had hit the man with a random shot as he climbed out of the melee. And now Dupe was gone too. The wounded, including Takuda himself, would have to be attended to. The weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders, he holstered the pistol and moved away.
The DEST team, the surviving mercenary techs, and the two remaining crew members from the ships spent a night filled with tension, fear, and small alarms. They all expected the mercenary 'Mechs to return to finish the job.
There were two BattleMechs still within the cargo hold as well as the few remaining technicians who had failed or chosen not to flee when the others had made their break for freedom. With the heavy weapons section reduced, the defense against a 'Mech attack would have been desperate at best. But the 'Mechs never came.
There was also the hovering presence of the Tetatae, who the DEST members now had the time to discover lingering in the fringes of the heavy woods. There was no way of telling if they were hostile, friendly, or just observers, only that they were there. Takuda decided to keep a watch on them but to do nothing that would precipitate any kind of action. The Tetatae were still there when the first faint rays of the morning sun broke over the tops of the eastern trees. It promised to be a fine day with only a few puffy clouds from the front that had moved through the area.
In full daylight the situation was further revealed. Takuda still had nine DEST members but those three were wounded: Dana Lost, Swalen Horg, and himself. Mark Jacobs and Parker Davud of the ships' crew were still around, but Takuda didn't know how valuable they would be. Of the mercenaries, only Holly Goodall was uninjured. Now, there, thought Takuda, was an enigma. Goodall had warned them of the impending combat, and she had, by the evidence, taken care of one of the 'Mech pilots. The shattered cockpit of the Locust bore mute testimony to that. But he was not sure of her status now. Two technicians had also remained behind, but both might have escaped with the others had they not been wounded. Sagiri Johnson, the chief tech and, like Goodall, one of those who had passed the warning, had been injured by the jump-jet blast of one of the departing 'Mechs. Underos Yaputi carried a wound from a laser rifle in his right arm, although how he had come by it was a mystery. He might ha
ve been hit by a random burst from either the DEST team or the fleeing mercenaries, although Takuda had a tendency to discount random shots by his people. DEST members did not take random shots.
The major task before him now was to remove the two Locusts from the DropShip. If the mercenaries decided to come back and finish the job, the DEST team would need their own 'Mechs. The Locusts were not as powerful as either the Panther or the LAM, but they could hold their own against the Javelin. Working together, they could also provide a good fight for the Panther. The lasers had some range, and the speed enjoyed by the light 'Mechs could keep them relatively safe until it came to a showdown. But first Takuda would have to get them out of the ship.
Goodall proposed that someone among the survivors be trained to operate the Locust. Though all the EST members were qualified as 'Mech pilots, putting one of them into the cockpit would reduce the already strained fabric of the team. It would have to be someone else. Mark Jacobs became the volunteer. Takuda wasn't quite sure how that happened, but suddenly the little chief engineer was crawling into the Locust's cockpit.
Another enigma, thought Takuda. The Telendine's engineer had been more like a non-person to Takuda thus far. Jacobs had been polite and competent enough aboard the Telendine, but had simply faded into the background since the crash. Now he was volunteering to pilot a 'Mech. Takuda had no way of knowing that Jacobs' background included more than JumpShip engineering. In his youth the man had been trained as a 'Mech pilot by his father, but Jacobs' dream of becoming a MechWarrior died when his father's lance was destroyed in a long-forgotten battle. The sudden resurgence of that long-buried dream had propelled him, almost involuntarily, into the cockpit of the Locust. He didn't even seem to mind that they had to scrape the remains of Collis Brank off the inside of the cockpit and out of the neurohelmet.
By the end of the day the debris had been cleared from the legs of the Locust, and they were clear to move to the opening in the hull. Jacobs was all ready to pilot the Locust out of the cargo hold, but Takuda would not allow it. Even a DEST member without a neurohelmet would be a better pilot than Jacobs, he decided. The engineer gave up his position to Shawn Arsenault with a disgruntled look, but Takuda permitted him to ride inside the shattered ogive for the experience.
Holly Goodall went first in her Locust, talking through the process out loud. She moved slowly, carefully planting the feet of the Locust on the deck of the DropShip. Goodall paused at the mouth of the gaping rent in the skin of the ship. The opening was big enough for an experienced pilot to maneuver without difficulty, but Arsenault was not an experienced pilot. Goodall talked herself through the opening, planning to talk Shawn through his turn. That way he would have heard the instructions twice.
Goodall stepped through just as the last rays of the setting sun struck the top of the DropShip. She turned to face the opening as she began the instructions. With her face toward the DropShip and her back to the woods, she didn't see the Tetatae emerging from the forest.
22
The Tetatae had been in the forest for nearly a full twenty-four hours. They had arrived just after dusk the previous night, and had been watching the humans ever since. Observing the movement within the camp, they had immediately recognized it as dangerous. Hadn't enough of the tribe already seen enough humans in their killing frenzy? They understood the DEST team's stealthy movements as a precursor to violence. They knew that when humans fought, any Tetatae who got in the way would die—quickly and without remorse. Better, they decided, to observe and not become involved.
The double explosions of the jump-capable 'Mechs had scared them to the point of incoherence. So had the LAM's takeoff. Dakodo had seen the Phoenix Hawk when it had left the DropShip the first time, but none of the others were prepared for the violence of the event. Especially at night, the sight of a Mech rising from the ground was an awesome experience. When the jumping 'Mechs had come crashing back to the ground, the Tetatae became so terrified that some of them had scattered wildly and frantically trying to get away. Some had died as a result, for the 'Mech pilots had not cared where they placed the giant feet of their machines in their haste to escape the DropShip area.
It had been a night of terror, and the event would forever be remembered as such in the oral history of the tribe. The Tetatae had gathered up their dead and injured while continuing to watch the humans. The humans had not come after them as they had feared, but instead had moved closer and closer to the thing that fell from the sky with fire. Perhaps, said some of the Tetatae, the thing was preparing to leave. Dakodo said nothing to disabuse them of that hope. The humans would remain, he knew, and the Tetatae would have to deal with them.
And so the day had passed. Some of the humans stood around the hull of the thing that fell from the sky with fire while others went in and out of its belly. The Tetatae waited for something of importance to happen, but the humans only stood around and waited as well.
In the falling light that signaled an end to another day, the Tetatae saw the thing that was going to happen. It wasn't that the thing was going to fly, for the actions of the humans showed no sign of departure. They stood now in a half-circle around the opening in the hull and stared into its dark interior. There was excitement. They began to cheer.
* * *
Andi Holland was the first to see the aliens break the woodline. Goodall's Locust had just cleared the entrance and had turned to talk Arsenault through the opening. Holland was watching the process with some interest when she heard a noise in the woods behind them.
Though forest sounds had become almost background input for her, heard and qualified but not consciously registered, this was something different. As she turned to look, she saw the Tetatae coming out of the woods. They didn't emerge, they boiled. They were crowded together in a tight pack, those in front jostled forward by those in the rear. The front ones, reluctant to approach and yet forced forward, drifted to the outside of the gaggle, which eventually put others in the lead. Those who had been pushing the front members suddenly found themselves in the front ranks. Then they began to balk and resist the thrust from the rear. Those who had been in front, reluctant to approach, found themselves suddenly emboldened by their relative security. They pressed forward against the backs of the reluctant leaders.
Holland sounded the alarm in her lip mike and then dropped to one knee. She didn't want to shoot these little creatures, but if pressed, she would have to. She raised the rifle to her shoulder and aimed at the center of the boiling crowd of fur. The cross hairs of the laser sight steadied on the figure of Dakodo. She took up the slack in the trigger.
The Tetatae was moving toward her in a strange, crouched walk. Holland took a deep breath and then let half of it out, just as she had been trained to do on the rifle range. Then she paused. Dakodo was not behaving aggressively. His bobbing gait resembled that of a man who couldn't decide whether to advance on his feet or his knees. Holland let the sight drift over the others. All were doing the same thing, advancing with their bodies held low between their legs. She relaxed her finger and let her breath out with a hiss.
The mass of Tetatae advanced more and more slowly, spreading out to surround the shattered DropShip. The DEST team stood with their backs to the hulk, their weapons cradled at the waist, safeties off, but waiting. Takuda emerged from the center of the line to meet Dakodo, who now crept forward from the center of mass. With him were two other Tetatae whom Takuda had never seen.
The three Tetatae advanced, their eyes fixed on the Locust towering over them. They jabbered to each other and to Dakodo, who responded in turn. Takuda did not understand the words, but the tone of Dakodo's voice made them sound soothing. The Tetatae turned back to Takuda. "We are ... we are ... we are amazed," he said, staring up at the Locust. Holland had turned the 'Mech to face the crowd of Tetatae. "You may be the ones who will change everything. You are the ones."
Dakodo stepped back and drew the other two forward.
"These are Totito and Dokaepi, the le
aders of our tribe. They are here to see the other humans, the ones I have spoken of. Now they find that you are quite different. You are what we have been waiting for since the others arrived so long ago. Now everything will be better. It will be as it was before they came."
Takuda was confused. The Tetatae were not hostile, but this was more than just awe at the size of the 'Mechs. The Locust was not a particularly impressive 'Mech, certainly not like either the Panther or the Phoenix Hawk, yet it was the one that had brought the Tetatae from the protection of the forest. Seeing the aliens and the 'Mech together, Takuda was suddenly struck by the similarity to the two-legged bird-like creatures of the woods. The Locust was a Tetatae grown to enormity and sheathed in metal.
Dakodo explained the situation as best he could. In the beginning, he said, the Tetatae had lived in the woods. They did not have a sense of what was good or bad, no sense of the malevolent. Things were just as they were. There were natural events that swept down upon the tribe: wild fire, great winds, storms of ice, but they were not thought of as punishment. Then came those who fell from the sky with fire. They brought harm to the Tetatae that could not be reconciled with the nature of things. The humans had taught the Tetatae that there was such a thing as an angry super-being. The Tetatae had believed this and assumed that the humans represented that.
Since then, the Tetatae had come to believe the legends taught by the humans: that there was an evil in their past and that there was a future. That was another concept that the Tetatae had never imagined. They had always been taught that as it was, so had it always been; as it was, so always it would be. The humans had proved that different. But with the establishment of a past and a future, as taught by the humans, there had to be a hope in the future that things would get better. That had become the new belief of the Tetatae. What that future would be no one had ever fully explained. Perhaps, said Dakodo, it required more generations that those that had passed in the five hundred years since the arrival of those who came with fire.