by T Q Chant
“Who – who are they? Untouchables?”
“Oh, they're the Unsaved,” Bethany trilled, apparently happy at the distraction. “They're those of Jonathan's people who have refused to go into the Bright Place. They are learning humility and the error of their ways before they are given another chance at redemption.”
Looks more like slave labour to me. The overseer happened to glance towards them, a look of pure hatred coming over her face when she saw Samrit. She briefly worried if she'd spoken out loud, but there was something in the big woman's eyes that told her that the hatred was something else. Something entirely personal.
“And who is that overseeing them?”
“That's Marshal Cho, Jonathan's right hand.”
A sudden image came to Samrit's mind, those same hate-filled eyes illuminated by a bright, short-lived flame of muzzle flash. Pain came with the image, radiating out from the scar on her temple, and she clutched her head, crying out and doubling over. She felt Bethany's hands catch her, and let herself pass out.
**********
“Can we at least ditch the plates?” Miller complained. They'd slithered down yet another steep scree slope and now faced the opportunity to clamber up its counterpart.
“You want to ditch your body armour on an unsecured planet on which we might be the only friendlies?” Williams ground out, finally having enough of the big American's whining. “You go right ahead. I ain't carrying them, and sure as shit not carrying your body.”
“Point taken.”
Ortuz held up a hand, clenched it, and they took a knee, each scanning their sector. They were, at least, shaded in the little canyon, but the air was close and still.
Kora's voice came over the squad channel. “The contact is two klicks to your north west. But I suggest you head directly north to clear the canyon.”
“Copy that.” Even Ortuz was sounding tired and frustrated. They'd been on the move for hours, yomping across the harsh, broken terrain towards the single artificial item Kora's drones had located in their sweep of the foothills.
Williams glanced at her tac display, displayed across the bottom of her helmet visor. As her eyes fell on it, the map window expanded across her view, green blips showing their position relative to the metal object that was their objective. They'd already marched a good seven klicks, winding down ravines, past towering mesas and scrambling over low ridges.
“They really need to deploy us with skims next time,” Miller decided. Williams cast a glare at him, hidden by the tinted visor of her helmet, and pulled herself to her feet as Ortuz gestured them forward with a curt chop of the hand.
“Or at least mountaineering kit,” Dirchs said from behind her. The big Rhinelander was like Ortuz, never phased by anything, but this terrain would terminally harm anyone's good will.
“Got a bit more detail on the target,” Cahaya reported. One of Snoopy's long-range drones was doing a closer inspection while Kora's heavy, high-endurance birds focused on route and target acquisition. “I think...I think it might be Rover.”
“You mean the Achilles suit Cane requisitioned? What’s it doing out here?”
“Let's go find out, Dirchs. Pick it up, people.”
The order wasn't necessary. Now that their objective was confirmed as relevant, the soldiers moved with renewed purpose. They were a slick team, used to working with each other, and didn't need an order to fan out as the canyon widened, the sides almost levelling out. They walked with their weapons shouldered, each of them a seasoned veteran who knew what a wide open space like this could mean.
Ahead, a battered and sand-corroded power suit stood, slightly forlorn, almost shoulder-deep in drifting sand. Ortuz led them over the last fifty metres of completely open space at a run. “Check your sectors!”
Williams hit dirt in a shallow trough of sand, coilgun up and the targeting reticule displayed on her visor. “Clear!” A heartbeat as she assessed the situation.
“Clear,” Miller reported. “But this feels like a trap.”
“Clear. Yes, it does.”
“Clear. Get a grip, you two.”
“Eye in the sky has you as clear.”
Ortuz was checking the Achilles. Cahaya's drone, a cruciform job with a bulbous, sensor-laden central pod was using its four corner lift fans to blow the sand away from the suit. “Looks like some minor damage – slowrounds and maybe something heavier. Looks operational.”
“Why the fuck did she ditch it then?”
“Eyes on your sectors. Where is that...ah. OK, Cahaya, I'm linking Snoopy in.”
“Got it, boss. Powering up basic...woh. Jancuk!”
“Talk to me.”
“Wait one...just bringing a firewall...and that's it contained...”
Williams felt an old familiar itching between her shoulder blades. “You lot keeping your eyes open?”
“Skinned, Williams, skinned.”
“Sorry, boss. Opsys has been eaten by some serious malware. Haven't seen anything like since...well, ever.”
“You got it contained?”
“Tried to storm Snoopy but got it locked down. Don't wire me into anything until I've checked it, ok?”
“Copy. Whole system shot?”
“Working on that. Snoopy has some good software...”
“Contact!” Williams yelled. “North side!”
“Kora, the fuck...?”
“I'm scoping, not getting any...wait...” Dirchs sounded almost excited
“Trap. Fucking trap...”
“Weapons free, boss? We light them up?”
“Cut the chatter and watch your sectors!” Williams snarled. There was a reason her dress greens had sergeant stripes. “Kora, sitrep?”
“Hai. I do not know where they have come from, but you have multiple contacts north and west.”
“Confirm that,” Miller snapped. “Three hundred metres to the west.”
“Same on the north.”
“How did they get that close?” Ortuz demanded. “Hold that. Kora, I need a count and a weapons status.”
“Hard...hard to say, boss-sama. They're heavily camo... Incoming rocket, north side!”
Williams knew that on Kora's feed it would show as a bright bloom of light and a trail of smoke from one of her drone's lookdown pixers. For the team on the receiving end, it was a dark flicker accompanied by a screaming howl that terminated in an earth-shaking explosion.
She got her head down just as it hit, Ortuz hitting sand next to her. His grin shone through the grit shower that rained on them. “That answers the weapons question. Return fire!”
Miller and Dirchs lit up the hostiles pretty much before Ortuz had given the order. Dirchs was firing short bursts from his coilgun (he preferred a Hockler to the issue FN weapons), the high-pitched whine of the weapon firing counterpointing the deeper thud of Miller firing 10mm seeker rounds in a high arc from his underslung launcher. Yvgena, holding their line of retreat open, held her fire and watched her sector.
They were still getting incoming, mostly slowrounds smacking into the sand around them or cracking off the armoured flanks of the Achilles. Another old-style chemical rocket wailed overhead and exploded harmlessly behind them. Williams heaved herself out of the sand that half buried her, rolled to one side as a third rocket went off just in front of her cover, and tried to get a target lock. The reticules were dancing around on her HUD, though, whatever camo the hostiles were using confusing the targeting systems.
“Seeker rounds aren’t getting a lock,” Miller reported calmly – he was always at his least excitable once he got settled into the tempo of a firefight. “Switching to dumb rounds.”
Williams came up on a knee, blink-magnifying the display on her right eye to full, shouldering the stock and firing as she'd been taught in basic, sending superaccelerated pellets downrange at anything she saw moving. She tracked a burst into a target, the pellets hitting so fast they turned a man's head and shoulders into red mist and spraying gore.
“Kora! We nee
d some fire from the sky!” Ortuz shouted as she ducked back, her kill drawing her a lot of incoming hate. Briefly magnifying the tac feed from Kora's drones, she realised just how outnumbered they were. The systems couldn't get a good count, but she didn't need a computer to tell her they were in danger of being overrun.
She snatched a CloudBloom from her rig, fired its little one-shot rocket and released it into the wild before crawling over to Ortuz.
“Not getting a lock for the drones!” That made sense, Kora would have loaded the drones for a standard mission parameter, which didn't factor in backwater villains who could defeat high-end surveillance gear. “OK, got a solution – rounds out! Keep your heads down!”
“What did you...,” Williams started to ask, then her targeting systems picked up the fast movers the support specialist had launched directly from Medusa. “Oh shit.”
It was over in seconds, the Metalshard submunes blanketing the area in explosions and a storm of shrapnel, just before the main warheads came in at high incident and burst on any concentrations of enemy activity. Williams pressed herself into the ground and it seemed to jump up to meet her as the warheads went off.
“Fucking righteous!” Miller growled.
“Sorry, that was a bit close,” Kora's said, her voice in Williams' ear startlingly loud in the eerie silence that had fallen after Kora's demonstration of modern firepower. “Board is clear – no movement, even unclear, no weapons signature.”
“Kora? Warn us next time.”
“Sorry, boss. It was the only thing that could cope without a good target lock.”
“That's fine. Just, you know, warn us?”
“Copy that. Those were the only two in the mag, though.”
“Got that. You heard the eye in the sky – until we can work out what they were using to spoof our systems, air support will be limited.”
Williams looked at the status window in her menu, blinked it open. Everyone showing green. “Dirchs, maybe go a little easier on the trigger next time? Boss, everyone green-to-go.”
“Alright. Cahaya, I want this Achilles' systems cleaned and ready for a pilot. Dirchs, Miller, cover. Williams, let's go take a look at whoever attacked us.”
“What's left of them, anyway.”
“You're a charming bastard, Miller.” Williams couldn't put any real venom in the rebuke. She knew from past experience that post-combat fatigue would kick in for all of them soon, but right now she couldn't muster much of a crap about the people who'd attacked them.
Assuming they were people.
CHAPTER THREE – MEMORIES OF SELF
Sam wasn't sure when exactly she had passed over the line of consciousness, from a vague sleep into a vague, pain-filled wakefulness.
“It's been known to happen before, with those who have been to the Bright Place,” she could hear Bethany saying. “Particularly if they have been as badly injured as Samrit was.”
“It can also indicate a return of sinful thought and memories of her Unsaved self.”
Samrit lay for a while listening. She knew, without knowing how, that the other speaker was the woman from the fields – Cho.
Gotta step lightly now, Samrit.
“She may need to go back to the Bright Place.”
“Again? We have been making such good progress. And there are only so many times someone can do to the Bright Place before it breaks them instead of saving them.”
“And that is the will of the Bright Ones.” There was an undercurrent of sadistic pleasure in Cho's voice when she spoke. What have I done that cannot be forgiven by this woman? “If they find her unworthy of salvation, then so be it. You know what must become of those who cannot be saved.”
A new voice spoke. “We must afford her every opportunity for salvation.”
“Because your son needs a wife.”
“Because it is our way, Amelia. Samrit must be given a chance to prove herself.”
Amelia? She almost burst out laughing at that, and must have made some kind of sound.
“Ah, it seems she has come to. How are you feeling, Samrit?” Jonathan's hands were cool and surprisingly soft when he took one of hers between them. His touch made her skin crawl, but she did not know why.
All she knew is that she needed to not let anything show.
“My head hurts, but it is not too bad, thank you.” Bethany had come to sit on the edge of her bed, and Samrit sensed the other woman's discomfort at something. “Thank you, Brother Jonathan – I am feeling much stronger now, though.”
She forced herself to sit up, but not to show that it was an effort, that the movement made red-hot ball-bearings roll forward through her skull to smack against the back of her eyes. Cho was standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes hard and flat. Samrit realised she was carrying a weapon, a large handgun holstered on her hip.
“Tell me, what do you remember from when you were...taken ill?”
“Not a lot, Brother Jonathan. I was... I was just working the field, as the Near-Raptured required, and was...felt suddenly faint and collapsed. That is all until I woke up just now.” She forced a wan smile. “It is good of you all to come and see me.”
Cho snorted derisively. “No...headaches? Confused thinking?”
“We have medication, if you are in pain. And we can pray for you.”
“No...no, I am just thirsty, thank you Marshal.”
Which is the correct answer.
“Yes, I remember now how you were saying you were thirsty, just before you collapsed.”
Don't overdo it, Sister. Not that Samrit wasn't grateful for and a little surprised by the support.
“Well.” Jonathan gave her a smile that was nothing but oil and insincerity. “Make sure you drink plenty of water when in the fields. And if you do start having headaches or any...visions, do please inform me or Marshal Cho at once.”
“Of course.”
“Well, once you feel fully recovered you should return to your duties.” The smile came back. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you have joined our congregation. For our sake as well as yours.”
As the two elders left, Samrit could not help but notice Bethany's slightly bereft expression, no doubt because her charge had been told to go over her head if she felt unwell. That just made Samrit resolve to like the woman more, and trust Jonathan and Cho even less.
Samrit pushed the thin sheets down and swung her legs over the end of the bed. “Best get back to work.”
“But...”
She smiled at Bethany, patted her arm. “Just dehydrated, remember? I'll be fine with some water.”
*********
“OK, this is some seriously kacau codeware.”
Cahaya was hunched over Snoopy's display, running the Achilles' systems through a quantum-quarantined processing matrix.
“You've seen combat hacking before,” Ortuz said mildly. He was sitting in one of the control room's aged swivel chairs, idly swinging from side to side. His booted feet, crossed at the ankle, thumped first against a rickety desk and then, at the other end of the arc, into the side of the main communication consol. Dirchs was on the door, tense and alert. Miller was scratching his head over his post-action statement. Kora was lovingly maintaining the giant beetle that was her weapon system.
“This is...something else. I had to devote an entire processor stack just to cleaning enough of the system to let Williams walk it back.”
Williams half-listened to the talk while she checked her kit. It was her ritual, after any live firefight – check absolutely everything, even if it hadn't come into play. She had the FS dagger out and was checking the edge.
She was being extra careful with the inspection because they had relocated to the ruined jSpace comms array, and the place was still creeping her out. Maybe it was the dim spaces, lit only by the chem globes they'd scattered around that gave everything a ghostly edge, or the mystery that surrounded what Cane had fought here, after she'd launched the probe. Maybe it was the bodie
s they'd policed into vacuum-sealed body bags, ready for retrieval and autopsy, and now waiting in a dark storeroom.
Maybe it was just the smell; sickly-sweet corruption and rotting flesh.
“It was...weird,” she said aloud. “Almost like the Achilles was fighting me.”
“That's the thing – it was. The code is iterative. I had to fight it for every step you took. It's a programming architecture I've never seen. Some of the language seems old, I mean really old, but it's been...warped. Added to.”
The subject of their discussion loomed in the corner of the control room that had become their operational base, inert but still somehow menacing. Williams had used personnel force multiplier suits before, and had never really enjoyed it. The walk back from the ambush had been wretched, though.
“You going to have any intel before our scheduled check in?”
“I'm working on it, boss.”
“We should talk about the battle and what exactly we're reporting to the Chief.”
“We were engaged, Williams. We fought back. Kora slashed and burned when it became apparent that we were heavily outnumbered.”
“An enemy of unknown numbers, able to defeat our best systems and creep up on us.” Yvgena's voice was troubled.
“Couldn't shoot for shit, though,” Dirchs sniffed.
“It was the lack of bodies that got me,” Miller said, frowning at them over the datapad. “The Metalshard is a fucking lethal system and Kora jammed it right down their throats. There should have been more bodies.”
Williams didn't want to think about the smoking wasteland she and Ortuz had walked through. The attack hadn't left much of anything, just broken weapons and bits of torn flesh.
“Miller is right,” she said after a while. “I think there must have been survivors, maybe a reserve, who pulled out any intact bodies before we moved up.”
“Despite Kora keeping oversight?”
“They got within three hundred metres of us, boss, despite the oversight.” She could tell from the set of the Nihongo woman's shoulders, even under the combat rig, that she was deeply ashamed of that. “Which isn't a reflection on Kora or Medusa, more that whoever these bastards are, they're good.”