Rebellion Ebook Full

by B. V. Larson

  “Concentrate fire!” Kwon roared. “Squad leaders mark your targets. Everyone beam down your leader’s target!”

  It sounded good, but it wasn’t really working out. The Macros were flooding in and scrabbling forward. With three beams each and huge, armored bodies as targets, his men could hardly take them down. I could see the error of our ways very quickly. We were still carrying light beamers for the most part. We’d had to run from Helios in a hurry and hadn’t been able to rearm. Most of our heavy beamers we’d converted into laser turrets, which hadn’t done much other than give the Macro invaders some target practice out there on the hull. They’d popped like a hundred-odd light bulbs.

  There I was, running onto the scene with one of the few heavy beamer kits on my back. The light beamers weren’t quite enough to take these armored Macros. They were a different breed—not as bad as the building-sized Macros I’d fought back on Earth—but much more dangerous than the Asian-car-sized enemy we’d been dealing with lately.

  “Kwon,” I barked. “Put every man who can fire on one target. You lead, you are packing a heavy kit.”

  “Colonel Riggs? How’d you know that?”

  “‘Cause I’m standing behind you.”

  He craned his head around and threw me a wave. Then he turned back and relayed my orders over the command channel. One of the Macros popped up on top of a sleeping-brick next to me. Kwon lit him up and we all joined in. He still got off enough pulses from those purple automatics to tear up one of Kwon’s boys. Then he melted with thirty-odd smoking holes burned through his armor.

  We burned down the next and the one after that. Things were looking pretty good. Then the bugs figured out where the organizers were.

  There was a tiny blip of a pause while they all thought together. I could see it. I could see them all think and then come to a group decision. In unison, every last cursed one of them turned and rushed our position.

  There was a buzzing in my helmet. I tried to ignore it, but finally responded. “Say again?”

  It was Captain Gorski’s voice: “sir, all other positions have pulled back. Repeat: the enemy are all heading over the hull to your position. All of them.”

  I got it then. The Macros had made a decision. Maybe—just maybe—they’d caught my transmission and heard my voice. Or maybe they’d heard Kwon call me Colonel Riggs. I had the feeling they didn’t like Colonel Riggs by this time.

  “Fall back!” I screamed, ignoring command protocols. “FALL BACK!”

  Two marines went down under a storm of incoming fire. I saw them coming right at me. At least eight of them crawled forward urgently. It was dinner time in the spider cage and someone had dropped me inside. Kwon stood up, blazing fire at the advancing enemy as he retreated. He got between me and the enemy, but they came on, heedless of their own safety. I was ducking away by this time, heading for a bulkhead where I could see my men escaping.

  I turned back to see Kwon go down. First, they blew off his shooting arm. He tried to use it anyway, making motions with his shoulders as if he had a laser projector, but it was dragging on the ground with his severed hand still gripping it. Then some of those purple bolts splashed his legs, burning through his armor with repeated hammering. He staggered backward, but his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore.

  Sometimes I’m stupid. Ask anyone in my unit. Hell, ask anyone in under my command, or any girl I’ve ever dated. I bounded once, twice, grabbed Kwon by his remaining arm and dragged him out of there. I was very thankful for my battle suit, as it repelled the scattered enemy fire. My suit was scored in a dozen places, but it took more than one bolt from the anti-personnel weapons to burn through completely.

  My men provided covering fire without orders. After all, I was the commander. A few of them died because of my action. Did that make it the wrong move? Probably. But sometimes in combat, you just do things, and you aren’t really thinking about every ramification.

  In the end, I was in the midst of a pack of marines, running through the ship. I had slid off Kwon’s pack and given it to another man. We needed every heavy beamer we could get our hands on. At an intersection, I paused and handed Kwon over to two men. He was unconscious by that time.

  The enemy paused in their advance as well, but I wasn’t fooled. They might be burrowing through the deck plates to flank us, or massing their full strength before hitting us in the corridors. I figured we’d killed less than ten of them so far and it had cost us a hundred men.

  “Get him back to the aft area,” I ordered. “Make your stand there.”

  “Where are you going, sir?” one of them asked. He was a corporal. I’d seen him around, and done some maneuvers with him. I hoped he’d live through the day.

  “You guys are all heading to the aft of the ship. Get into the belly. Set up firing positions, and if they advance, hold as long as you can.”

  They looked like they were going to complain, so I shouted the next word into their faces: “GO!”

  They went. I heard the rattle and clank of magnetic boots hitting deck plates. It died away, and left me with a lonely feeling. I was already running by that time, however, running in the opposite direction, toward the ship’s prow. I still had my heavy beamer, but now I picked up something else from one of the store rooms. It was a funny-looking thing, being a series of four spikes set at opposing angles. In the center of this contraption was a tiny, nuclear charge. On one of the spikes was a thumbable button.

  I ran with the mine in one hand and my rifle projector in the other. While I ran, I talked to my bridge crew with my com-link.

  “Gorski? Do you read me?”

  “Colonel Riggs? Yes, I read you sir. You’re out of position, sir, we have you tracked.”

  “Gorski, I know where I am. They can track me too, I believe. Listen carefully: tell me what they are doing now.”

  “Heading amidships sir. As a mass. They bored through the deck of the hold and left our brick area. They are—”

  “Good enough,” I said. “This is Colonel Kyle Riggs.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “What are they doing now, Gorski?”

  There was a hesitation. “Not much. Maybe they are burning through the deck again or something.”

  “No,” I said, “they are thinking about me. They love me, you see. They love Colonel Kyle Riggs.”

  I took a deep breath, then gave them a little speech: “Macro Command? I know you can hear me. You are all going the wrong damned direction. You are a bunch of clueless, shit-for-brains toasters. Colonel Kyle Riggs is right here, and he is laughing at you.”

  “Sir?” asked Gorski, sounding confused.

  “What are they doing now?”

  “Ah—they seem to have turned around. They are heading forward, to the nose of the ship. They are all converging on your position, Colonel.”

  I nodded in my helmet and smiled grimly. “Stupid toasters,” I said. “I suppose I should feel flattered.”

  I stopped messing around then and I ran for all I was worth. Every bulkhead door I passed I threw closed behind me and locked—but I didn’t figure that would stop them for more than a few minutes.

  I ran to the very forward ports of the ship, where big Macro sensor systems were located. Our compact sensors were up there sitting around with their more powerful arrays. We hadn’t figured out how to operate their systems yet, so they’d never been much use.

  I aimed my heavy laser at a spot that was dented in. The hull wasn’t quite as thick or strong there. I switched on the projector and shot the dented spot in the hull. I kept the firing stud down for long seconds until my eyes hurt from the brilliant light and my feet felt the heat of molten metal right through my suit.

  I kept on firing, burning my way out of the ship.

  -31-

  “Major Sarin?” I called, trying to stay calm. It wasn’t easy, as my plan was so crazy it was all I could do to keep my mind from freezing over. “Jasmine?”

  “Colonel?” Sarin finally responded. She sou
nded a little shook up. “I think we are losing this fight, sir. We can’t stop them.”

  “I know,” I said. “Here’s what you are going to do. On my next signal, even if I can’t get out an articulate word, I want you to kill the main engines and fire the braking jets in the nose. Just give one tiny pulse on the jets, enough to brake us by a few hundred klicks per hour.”

  “I’m not sure I can control this system that precisely,” she said.

  “Try. And whatever you do, don’t change course.”

  “Uh, yes sir.”

  “Where are they now?” I asked.

  “The main Macro force appears to be clustered forward at the nose. They are pausing at each bulkhead, but quickly burning through them.”

  I was glad the Macros still believed in simple, lockable gear-based hatches. If they had put in complex combination locks or something, they could have just ordered them to open with a wireless transmission. That wasn’t their style, however. They liked big and basic. They were into primitive functionality wherever they could get away with it. I admired their design. Without all the manual systems, most of this ship would be inoperable after having suffered so much damage. My Jolly Rodger bore the scars of a dozen fights, but she was still flying.

  “Colonel Riggs?” Sarin’s voice came into my helmet again.

  I was busy kicking at the circular area of cherry-red metal at my feet. It didn’t want to give.

  “Colonel?” called Sarin, I could hear the sound of rising panic in her voice. “Kyle?”

  “Riggs here,” I responded. As I did I heard a ripping sound—like that of tortured metal nearby.

  “They are breaking through, sir. They’ve bypassed your hatches and burned their way through the walls.”

  “Got it,” I said. I began burning the spot at my feet again. I figured it only had to be a little bigger around than my shoulders. “Get ready to kill the engines and brake.”

  She said something else, but I didn’t catch what it was. I suddenly realized, I wasn’t going to be able to burn through the outer hull. I gave up on drilling, it was just too thick. It wasn’t going to work in time. I ran instead to the nearest airlock.

  There was a Macro there, waiting for me. It didn’t know it was waiting for me, of course. It was trying to burn its way into my chamber and burn me down to a charred pile of molecules. It was between me and airlock exit hatch, so I didn’t get fancy. I rushed it, and got in close. I don’t think these Macros were built with that tactic in mind. I supposed they were used to biotics running from them and getting themselves gunned down. Instead, I grappled with it.

  Sometimes, something that sounded good at first glance doesn’t turn out the way you planned. This was one of those times. I felt like I’d grappled a backhoe that wanted to go someplace. I was immediately thrown into the air, my legs flying freely. I kept hold of the main gun on its head-section, however.

  The side beams went off, stitching air with bolts of energy. One of my feet took a hit. It didn’t really hurt, but my toes felt numb. I suspected some of them were now missing. Nanites rushed to the region, patching my suit and my flesh indiscriminately.

  I grabbed onto the big nozzle as it swiveled in my direction. If that thing even grazed me, I knew I was dead. Hanging onto it with both hands, I saw more Macros coming up behind the first one. They looked excited, like ants that smelled dead meat. They weren’t firing yet, perhaps out of some kind of respect for their fellow Macro, but I suspected they would only be able to contain themselves for so long. The moment they lost control they would blast us both.

  I was riding the main nozzle now, and it was firing. I thought I must look ridiculous, like a cowboy riding an annoyed elephant by clinging to the trunk. It began to fire off and on, and I got an idea. I twisted, I heaved and I levered, bracing my feet against the Macro’s front head-plate. The nozzle viciously ripped this way and that in my hands, servos whining.

  I shook my generator pack off and threw it toward the spot I’d tried to burn through. I aimed the nozzle that way, and the Macro took the bait. It fired at my backpack and the dangling laser projector unit. I wrenched the projector so it missed, but the gouting energy still hit the hull. It took another shot, then another. Suddenly, that section of the hull burned through. The forward section of Jolly Rodger began to depressurize. I felt the tug of escaping gasses, but hung on.

  Right about then, the Macros trying to get through behind the first one lost patience. Maybe they thought I was getting away. Maybe it was a group decision, maybe not, but they burned down the one I held onto. A half-dozen beams flared and flashed. The Macro lasted a few seconds, then turned into slag. I crawled away, keeping the twitching machine between me and the others in the corridor behind it. I crept to the hole in the front of the ship and crawled out. I picked up the mine, which was magnetically stuck to the deck plates, on the way out.

  This was the tricky part. I didn’t even have a rifle any longer. I only had my suit, a knife, a beam pistol and the star-shaped mine I’d grabbed on the way out. The problem was, now that I was out in open space the Macros following me would be able to nail me instantly. Already, they were burning their way out here, popping the welded-shut airlocks and widening the hole I’d burnt through the hull.

  My original plan had been simple, if crazy. I was going to get the swarm to fly after me, then toss the mine into the middle of them. I hadn’t expected to survive the experience, but if I killed enough of them, my marines should be able to finish the rest. I realized the problem with my plan was they wouldn’t all come out and fly after me in a convenient, tight mass. The first one that got outside would find me standing there without cover and blast me. End of story.

  “Sarin?” I called.

  “You’re still alive, sir?” she asked.

  I was a little miffed by her tone. But I reminded myself that on her screen, the blip that was me had probably shared a very close proximity to a whole bunch of pissed machines for a long time.

  “Yeah,” I said. I crouched and flipped off my magnetics. I began to float away from the cruiser. “Jasmine, it’s been good serving with you,” I told her.

  “You too, Kyle.”

  The white-hot hole the Macros had drilled through the airlock hatch was spitting sparks of burnt metal. The opening was big enough for a human to walk out of now, but of course it had to get bigger to allow a Macro to pass.

  “I want you to hit those brake jets now. Just a puff. Then tell everyone to brace for impact.”

  “Impact?”

  “Just do it.”

  She did it, and the jet-wash nearly incinerated me right there. I hadn’t thought about how near the brake jets might be. I was less than a hundred feet from a blue blast of radiance that had to be as full of protons as it was heat.

  As I had hoped, the cruiser fell away behind me. I realized with a shock it was falling away too fast, way too fast. I flipped on the mine in my hand and snapped it toward the ship. The mine flew away, spinning.

  “Sarin, that’s too much! Cut the brakes! Give the mains a little goose and turn the nose—down about five degrees.”

  “Sir?”

  “Do it!”

  I watched as my mine dwindled from my sight. Jolly Rodger surged forward and nosed downward a fraction.

  Now that the ship wasn’t dominating my region of space, Helios swam into view far below. The Worm planet filled a huge arc of space with its orange-brown deserts and dark murky seas. I could see a Worm mound here and there, looking like mountainous spikes of natural terrain. If I hadn’t been so close to dying, I would have stared at it in awe.

  “That should do it,” I said.

  “Do what?”

  “Grab onto something!” I shouted.

  A tremendous flash silently lit the universe around me. I was bathed in radiance—and presumably radiation.

  “Cut the engines!” I shouted. “Sarin, brake a bit, you need to slow down so I can—”

  But Jolly Rodger didn’t slow down. It barre
led right toward me. Suddenly, I wished I’d picked up one of those flying skateboard things. I could use one about now.

  In space, there was nothing to push against. When it came to getting places, this was both good and bad. You generally had nothing stopping you—no air resistance, no gravity, no obstacles. But that also meant you couldn’t use those things to help you move. Essentially, the only way to move was to throw things in one direction and therefore be propelled in the opposite direction. I didn’t have much to spare.

  “Sorry sir, braking jets are not responding,” Sarin said in my headset.

  I quickly saw why. I’d blown the brake-jets off the cruiser. The nose of the ship had no jets left at all. Jolly Rodger grew larger with the black, smoldering maw of it looking like the open mouth of a great shark. I threw my pistol away, then my knife. I had a belt pack, and that went. I might have tried to toss my boots, figuring my feet would have to fend for themselves and the nanites could unfreeze them later, but I ran out of time. Throwing things didn’t generate enough thrust anyway; the ship was going to hit me.

  The cruiser swallowed me—ran me over. I went right into the hole in the hull I’d blown open with the star-shaped mine. How fast was it going relative to my own body’s mass? A hundred miles an hour? Two hundred? It mattered, but I had no way of measuring. I did my best to turn around and take the impact feet first. Turning in space isn’t easy. It was like swimming in the air—but with no air.

  Everything happened in flashes at the end. The big red sun vanished as the ship’s shadow swept over me. I realized I was inside the ship’s blasted-open maw. The impression of being swallowed was very intense. Shiny, floating bits of destroyed Macros drifted around me. Twisted chunks of hull tapped and slammed into my feet and torso. It was like hitting a mass of glittering, metal confetti. One piece starred my helmet. Then I hit something solid, spun around, and knew no more.

  -32-

  When I woke up, everything was fuzzy. In my head, I mean, not visually. I hadn’t the will to open my eyes yet. I heard Kwon on the next rack, arguing with a med-tech. The med-tech’s voice was female.