Far Country

by Fanpro

  Jacobs, meanwhile, felt his heart pounding in his chest, the flash of the lasers having taken him completely by surprise. It was difficult enough to keep the Locust under reasonable control; it just didn't seem fair that he had to get shot at as well. The constant chatter of the little Tetatae on the side of his cockpit was equally unnerving. He just wanted to be left alone to deal with the problems of piloting this giant machine. He didn't regret the decision to take over the Locust. The sense of power was undeniable. But why didn't they just leave him alone and let him drive?

  The tops of the trees to his left were suddenly shredded, and Jacobs felt a hammering on the side of the 'Mech. He didn't understand what had happened, didn't understand that the Panther's PPC had made a rattling hit at long range. The control panel flashed more red lights, and the Tetatae continued to chatter wildly. Sweat was pouring into his eyes from under the neurohelmet. Things were becoming more and more difficult. He eased the throttle forward and felt the Locust suddenly sink away. He pulled back, but it was too late.

  The Locust crashed downward through the trees, completely out of control. Jacobs hung on as he was jolted back and forth in the command seat. Branches whipped by, then came another flash of steam as the LAM's lasers burned through more of the leaves. Jacobs could smell the pungent odor of charred wood seeping into the cockpit as he continued to jolt forward. The alien's eye appeared in the laser hole of the cockpit glass. The Locust came to a jarring halt. The eye in the hole disappeared.

  Jacobs leaned forward against the harness to peer out at his surroundings. The surface of the trees, glaring green in the light of the risen sun, had gone. Instead Jacobs saw a dim green darkness. He had passed below the level of the vegetation into a steep valley that continued down and away before him. Twisting the 'Mech's torso to get a sweeping view, he saw that it was all the same. Just a green dankness that went on to the limit of visibility. The little Tetatae tapped cautiously on the side of the cockpit. Jacobs opened the access panel and craned his head out the side. The Tetatae was pointing toward something in the distance. A darker portion of the green blackness. Jacobs let the Locust slide forward as directed.

  The green forest moved past the Locust in an even flow. The little Tetatae chirped away happily, tapping on the cockpit and pointing toward the goal. Jacobs saw other aliens drifting through the forest. They were carrying things that looked strangely familiar. Overhead there was a burst of steam and falling leaves. The foot-bound Tetatae scattered into the gloom. Then the mouth of a cave opened in front of him, and he understood what the Tetatae wanted. Safety was just ahead. Inside the cave he would be hidden from the LAM searching overhead. He turned gently to line the Locust up with the opening, then let the 'Mech move faster. He didn't want to get caught with sanctuary just in reach.

  High above the trees, Seagroves banked the LAM for* another pass at the BattleMech hidden beneath the foliage. He took the craft into a high hammerhead stall and rolled it over for a power dive. His other passes had been at a shallow angle, and he knew from the target's reaction that he hadn't scored a kill. This time he would come straight down, zero deflection, almost no intervening terrain. He let the cross hairs steady on the I/R signature. The target grew bigger and bigger in his sights. The warning klaxon began to scream, telling him that he was into the maneuver envelope for his dive. He held the LAM a few seconds longer, trusting to instinct and ability to save him as they always had. The target was huge. He triggered the triple laser battery, letting the light lasers fire first to burn off the foliage so that the large laser could strike the target. There was an explosion of stream as the moisture in the foliage vaporized under the impact of the searing aligned light. Then the large laser fired. There was a flash and the heat signature of the Locust vanished. A good kill.

  * * *

  Deep in the cave Jacobs felt the tension drift away from his body. There had been a terrible explosion as he entered, but he was safe. The little Tetatae scrambled down and chattered happily with his mates, who looked at him with significant awe. Jacobs would have followed his guide to the floor of the cave, but he couldn't get his knees to work; they had turned to jelly. He swung his legs over the side of the hull and took several deep breaths. Perspiration had soaked through his uniform, and he could smell the stale scent of fear rising from his body. He felt a chill, and shivered even in the comfortable warmth of the cave.

  "Pilot Jacobs," came a voice from below, and when Jacobs looked over the side he saw the DEST commander looking up at him. "Are you all right?" Takuda's voice revealed genuine concern.

  Jacobs nodded. He felt warmth returning to his limbs. "Yes, sir," he mumbled, and then again with more confidence, "Yes, sir. Had some problems, but we made it, him and me." He pointed toward where the little Tetatae was still surrounded by his mates.

  "Good," said Takuda. "That's good. Goodall is safe too. She's in another cave some distance from here, but she's all right. From what I've heard, the only one missing is Parker Davud. Evidently he was still in the DropShip when we pulled out." Takuda shook his head. "I hope he got out all right." It went against the instincts of the DEST members to leave someone behind.

  Moments later, the missing DropShip—or ex-Drop-Ship—pilot made his way into the cave, led by a Tetatae. Davud was laughing and ebullient. He sat down at the feet of the silent Locust and smiled at those who crowded around him. "Well," he said, "the others won't find much of value in the DropShip. I vented the thruster fuel tanks before I left, and I scrammed the plant. They won't get any useful stuff from the ship. I'd love to see their faces when they start looking. The last I saw of the ship, that big 'Mech was pouring shots in through the broken flight deck like a lunatic. I think he was really pissed." He smiled at the DEST members around him, then his face went pale.

  Davud jumped to his feet and pushed through the surprised throng. "What are they doing?" he asked in a strained voice, pointing toward, a cluster of human wounded surrounded by a group of Tetatae. "Get them away from our people."

  Takuda stepped forward. "They're helping, Parker. They're helping. Don't worry about it."

  "But they're nothing but aliens. What do they know? What can they know?"

  "They can know a great deal," said Takuda. "Don't let their shape or their language fool you. They've been here a lot longer than we have. They know what works."

  "But not on humans."

  "Perhaps. But they'll be careful. They've led us to safety, and we have no reason not to trust them now."

  Parker Davud didn't look convinced. Doubt and mistrust were clear on his face. Takuda put his hand on the pilot's shoulder, a gesture that was as strange for him as the emotion that powered it. "We all have things to learn," he said in a soft voice. "We find ourselves in an alien situation or an alien world. We will have to adapt.

  It will be an interesting problem. In the past, we've always considered anything not human, and even some humans, as a lower form of life, something to be exploited or killed at our convenience. In this world that will be different. We have to respect the lives of these beings even if we don't completely understand them. It will be the new way."

  Part 2

  25

  Takuda was right. Everything about this situation was new and different. The humans were the ones who were the aliens. They had always believed one should change the environment to fit one's needs, seizing anything they wanted or needed and molding it to their requirements. Now it was the reverse. The Tetatae were the ones who fit the environment; the humans were the outsiders. Not only were they outsiders, they were also unable to change the surroundings to suit their desires. The humans did not have enough of anything to fill their needs. They could survive on their own for a while, but sooner or later they would exhaust their meager supplies. They would have to adapt or perish.

  Takuda was one of the first to accept the reversal. He, who had been a member of a rigid hierarchy for his entire life, seemed to find it easiest to change. Perhaps it was the responsibility for the lives o
f the others that made him open to the necessity, perhaps it was in his nature. In either case, he listened to the words of Dakodo and the others and did what was necessary.

  By the third day in the caves, the humans were well enough to travel. Takuda decided that it was time to act, even if there was no real plan. The mercenaries had been given three days of grace to deal with the enclaves, and it would take more days for his team to reach the river. They would have to move and move with purpose.

  The Tetatae had been helpful during the recovery, feeding the humans and generally fussing over them at all times. There was something unnerving about having one of the little creatures squatting at your feet when you fell asleep, and even more unnerving to awaken with him still there. They seemed to have the ability to sleep with one eye socket closed and the other open and alert. Very weird. The humans got used to it, each one according to his nature. Andi Holland was the first, Dana Lost only grudgingly.

  Before they could move, Takuda had to reorganize his team. The casualties suffered by the DEST members made it even more imperative that Jacobs improve his 'Mech piloting skills. Goodall worked with him throughout the hours of daylight and on into the hours of darkness to get him up to speed. She was sure that with enough training he would become a good pilot, but time was one thing they sorely lacked.

  Under normal circumstances it would take weeks simply to master the maneuvering of the complicated machine. That was one of the functions of the neurohelmet. With the helmet linked to his brain, a Mech Warrior could maintain fine balance without conscious thought. But no matter what Goodall and Jacobs did, they just couldn't get the helmet to work well for Jacobs. Perhaps it had been damaged in some indecipherable way, and that was what made it do strange things at the most unexpected times. Goodall simply didn't have weeks to train Jacobs.

  The weapons systems were another problem. After mastering the machine, a pilot would normally be expected to spend additional time on the range. It was not so much that he had to learn to shoot, but that a Mech Warrior had to become aware of the heat surges that the weapons transmitted to the 'Mech. Heat was the real killer of 'Mechs on the battlefield, and more than one pilot had ignored the climbing heat indicator at his own peril. In that way the Locust was in its element. The light 'Mech had enough heat sinks that it could bleed off all the heat it generated either by maneuver, or fire, or both combined. Goodall saw no reason why Jacobs had to be warned about heat. They'd save that subject for later discussion.

  When the two pilots weren't maneuvering the 'Mech through the woods, they were talking about how a 'Mech worked. Goodall talked tactics and deployment of the 'Mech lance until she had Jacobs convinced that the 'Mech was the ruler of the battlefield. Then she had to turn around and teach him that the king of the battlefield was vulnerable as well. There were many things, she explained, that 'Mechs did poorly or could not do at all. She was adamant about fighting in towns; those were places that a 'Mech should avoid. Heavy vegetation and steep defiles were another hazard. 'Mechs liked open, rolling terrain, she told him—no steep defiles, no heavy woods, no buildings, and no infantry. Infantry could be deadly if not treated with respect, and 'Mech-proofed infantry like the DEST team should be avoided at all costs.

  The two 'Mech pilots were supported by Sagiri Johnson and Underos Yaputi, the remaining techs. Technical support for the mercenary lance had been thin to begin with, and with only one tech for each 'Mech, the Takuda pilots had to do much of the work themselves. Jacobs was perfectly happy tinkering away on his machine with the help and direction of the two technicians, and Goodall was humble enough to wade into the grease and oil as required. Vost would never have gotten his hands dirty on a 'Mech, even his own, but the two pilots and two techs with Takuda were perfectly happy working together in the innards of one of the Locusts, They were even able to repair and replace the shattered windscreen on Jacobs 'Mech. The Tetatae had shown the humans how to heat and bend a lovely clear crystal sheet found in veins in the caves. It wasn't as strong as the original material, and it would shatter in the most inconvenient way if struck by a heavy object, but Jacobs could at least see through it.

  Organizing his team had turned out to be an even more difficult task for Takuda. He made Parker Davud his aide in the headquarters section, which meant he could move George Bustoe into Arsenault's section. The heavy weapons section would have to operate a man short, for there was no way to replace Inaduma. Sanae would have to double as both section leader and antiarmor specialist. She was perfectly capable of handling the job, capable of any job requirement in any position within DEST, but the move would put a strain on the section's capabilities.

  And so, after three days of rest and recuperation, Takuda took his troops toward the setting sun, the enclaves, and a tentative future. The foot troops moved first, the 'Mechs bringing up the rear. This allowed for security ahead, while Jacobs and Goodall continued to maneuver and train together. Jacobs learned as he went, and improved. The first day he toppled the Locust twice, the second day only once. On the third day he was able to maneuver without mishap even when putting the 'Mech into a run. That evening, as they bedded down the equipment, Jacobs emerged from the cockpit with a beatific smile across his face. He was doing what he'd always dreamed of.

  The trek was difficult because of the terrain and the materiel carried, but it would have been impossible without the Tetatae bearers. As in the retreat from the DropShip, the Tetatae carried much of the excess equipment. They were superb at the job, carrying heavier loads than the humans expected and at greater speeds than even the unencumbered humans could manage.

  The only problem with the Tetatae was their inveterate curiosity. At the end of the first day, Takuda was appalled at the condition of the cargo; every weapon, sensor device, and heavy missile had been disassembled. The pieces were piled in the center of a ring of chattering aliens who then passed various pieces around the circle. Takuda was sure that everything was lost. Certain that it would take days for the DEST members to reassemble the parts, he took Dakodo aside and commented on the problem. The little Tetatae was surprised at the DEST commander's concern, and he assured Takuda that all would be well. He gave a short command, and as if by a miracle, the Tetatae put it all back together.

  By the fourth day of the trek, it became obvious that the enclaves were near. Areas that had obviously been cleared with a purpose rather than naturally began to fall across the line of march. At first Takuda chose to bypass them, but by the middle of the day they were too numerous to avoid. In any case, they were deserted or abandoned. Some had once had structures on their perimeter, but an examination showed that these had been unoccupied for some time. In some instances there were signs of violence. The DEST group proceeded with caution.

  As the last rays of the sun sliced across the sky, turning the undersides of the clouds into puffy peach confections, the open, sweeping savanna appeared at the edge of the forest. The DEST members strung out along the verge and settled into hide positions. They all knew that this would be a cold camp. The enemy, or the possible enemy, was in sight. The 'Mechs remained two kilometers behind in hide locations of their own. The DEST members lifted their rangefinding binoculars and swept the ground. A quick look and then a detailed search from near to far, left to right to left.

  To their wonderment, they discovered that a battle had been in progress here, though it appeared that the battle was over, at least for today. To the right a force was withdrawing to the north, dragging what equipment it could. The southern force showed no intention to pursue. The fight must have been a draw. Takuda tried to identify the equipment he saw, but it was impossible. It was not that the gear was too far away to see, for his binoculars were capable of 400 times magnification, with white light, I/R, and ultraviolet receptors. It was that he didn't understand what he saw.

  That the forces were not using modern power sources was immediately obvious. In almost all cases, huge stacks pouring smoke rose from the centers of the vehicles. The nearest one, its sta
ck thrusting out from the right side and belching fire, had a great, box-shaped housing on its back. As Takuda watched, the housing rotated slowly until a great gun with the diameter of a trash can pointed southward. The vehicle shuddered to a halt, and a moment later a great gush of flame roared from the muzzle of the gun. Takuda saw a huge black projectile arc across the intervening space between the two forces to smash into the ground and then bounce along toward the enemy. He could see figures scampering away from its path until the ball vanished into a clump of trees. Then the firing vehicle belched fire from its horizontal stack and began to waddle its way north.

  The BattleMechs were nowhere to be seen, nor was there any evidence that they had ever been there. PPCs, lasers, and even short-range missiles would have made short work of anything Takuda could see. He was amazed. With all the technology these people must have brought with them, what he saw now was a throwback to earlier times. Davud flopped down next to his position and also scanned the field with his glasses. "I don't see much iron," he said.

  Takuda blinked. Davud was right. He scanned the retreating vehicles again, paying particular attention to the tank-like engine that had fired the projectile. The cannon itself had the dark look of iron, but there was no other evidence of the material. Most of the external fixtures had the look of bronze and copper. That was impossible, of course, but then he remembered the enthusiasm of Seagroves and the rumors of what he had seen in Usugumo. Other metal on the wheels showed of brass and copper. But almost no iron. This was a strange society.