“No, I’m not allowed to do porn, sorry,” the tech said.
“Can you read my mind with the system, too?” Walker asked.
“No, but that’s what everyone asks for, so I thought I’d save you the effort of asking. Women usually ask for that, too, but their requests are a little more…graphic.”
Walker wasn’t sure there could be anything much more graphic than what he had envisioned. “Okay, can we get on with it, then?” he asked, trying to clear his head. The technician’s constant laughing at his expense was getting irritating.
“Sure. Here comes the CASPer.”
Walker experienced a psychic shock as the view shifted, and he was inside a suit. He could feel the leather pads where his skin touched them. If he didn’t “know” he was in a simulator, he would have been sure that he was inside a CASPer. At least, he was pretty sure he was still in the simulator…
“What kind of armament do you want?” the tech asked.
“How about a MAC on my left arm and a 509 laser rifle in my right hand?”
“You got ‘em,” the tech said a few seconds later. Walker held out his left arm; sure enough, the Magnetic Accelerator Cannon (MAC) was mounted to the suit’s arm. He lifted his right arm, but already knew what he’d find. The weight and grip was the same as a Mark 509 Advanced Chemical Laser Rifle. He had learned to operate it one-handed a long time ago. The simulator’s fidelity was excellent; it felt exactly as if he was holding one of his long-time companions.
“Can I get a snap-blade on my right arm, too?” Walker asked.
There was a pause, and then the retractable blade was just there on his arm, which wobbled slightly with the increased weight until the stabilization program in the suit caught up with having the new weapon attached.
“Anything else?” the tech asked.
Walker spun around, and the blade snapped out. He spun back around and fired the MAC at a wave top. The rounds went high; he adjusted the targeting system incrementally. “Nope, I’m good.” He shrugged his shoulders and stretched to fight the stiffness of the suit. Wait; he wasn’t wearing a suit. Damn, the simulator was good.
“All right,” Walker said. “I’m ready to kill some bugs.”
“Incoming!” the tech yelled, and Walker ducked reflexively at the call that explosive rounds were headed toward a unit. The tech giggled. Bastard; he’d been trying to get that reaction.
Walker focused back on the seascape just in time to see something coming from the right trailing a plume of smoke. The shape grew into a MinSha transport, on fire and descending quickly. With an enormous impact, the ship crashed into the ocean about a half-mile out to sea. The crash displaced a huge wall of water that rolled toward the beach like a tsunami. Without conscious thought, Walker put his left foot back and leaned forward slightly, and he braced for impact with the wall of water hurtling toward him.
The wave decreased in size as it rushed inward, and the upswell that hit him was only eight feet high. Although it staggered him back a step, he kept his feet under him and righted himself after the initial surge swept past.
“Shit,” he muttered as the water sluiced off his cameras. The MinSha were right behind the wave, and they were flying straight at him. The aliens looked like giant praying mantises, their carapaces a shiny metallic blue. Like most Humans, Walker hated the MinSha; he armed both weapons and began firing. With a lifetime’s experience operating CASPers, he automatically used both targeting reticles simultaneously, although now he found he was able to run them independently, without having to swap his full attention back and forth. That would be handy.
The light blue reticle targeted a MinSha for the MAC, and the Mach 7 projectiles ripped through the aliens’ light armor. The laser rifle used the darker ring; it fired faster but each shot was less powerful. Walker started on the left edge of the formation with the MAC and the laser rifle on the right, and he swept the weapons toward each other as he killed the aliens.
A flash at the center caught his attention; the glint of sunlight off a rifle barrel. He retargeted the MAC to the leader, but he wasn’t fast enough. There was a flash from the MinSha’s weapon, and the simulation ended, the beach disappeared, and he was back on the platform. He knew without being told he had died.
“Not bad,” the tech said. “You killed 72 percent of the bugs before they got you.”
“Yeah, well, you said they’d ‘cut me to pieces.’ You never said they were going to be armed.”
“And how often do you trust a MinSha to do what it’s supposed to?”
“Never,” Walker said, shaking his head.
“Good,” the tech replied. “That’s how often you should. If you always expect the worst in the simulator, you’ll increase your odds of surviving the scenario exponentially.”
Walker growled in the back of his throat. He felt cheated on the run; he’d been set up…exactly as the tech had intended. Not again. “Can we do it again?” Walker asked.
“Sure,” the tech said. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Am I allowed to move around?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” Walker asked, beginning to get exasperated.
“On whether you want to stay alive. I’d move around if I were you.”
“Just start the simulation, please,” Walker replied, barely controlling his urge to yank out the leads, chase down the tech, and beat the shit out of him.
The scenario started again, and the MinSha ship crashed into the ocean. Instead of waiting for the tsunami to hit him, Walker stroked his jumpjets and flew to an altitude of about 20 feet. The aliens were already in sight as they exited their ship, which floated just a little way offshore. Gently tapping the jumpjets to keep him airborne, he began firing the MAC, sending a near constant stream of rounds into the doorway from which the MinSha were exiting. A number had already made it out of the ship; he zoomed in his targeting sights—two of the MinSha were armed. He picked these off with the laser as they were still getting organized, then finished off the rest.
The wave passed underneath him, and he returned to the beach. The ship was sinking; most of the doorway had gone underwater while he was shooting the MinSha that had escaped. Walker ceased firing as the doorway submerged. Ten seconds later, the lights came on, and he was returned to the platform.
“Well done,” the tech said, his voice indicating he had hoped for a different outcome.
“What else do you have?” asked Walker in a cheery tone. If the tech hated it, so much the better. A smile flashed across his face at the thought.
“How about ‘Zuul Rampage?’” the tech suggested. “Only this time, use your thoughts to control the jumpjets…”
Asbaran Solutions, Houston, Texas, Earth
“Anything good in the mail today?” asked Sergeant First Class William Mackenzie, the chief armorer of Asbaran Solutions.
“As a matter of fact, there is, Top,” the logistics specialist replied. He pointed to a pallet with two large boxes on it. “We just got this shipment of a new exterior coating from The Golden Horde.”
“How’s it work?”
“You just spray it on like paint, and it will help make our CASPers more resistant to lasers. I’m told that a lot of times, a laser strike will just reflect off a suit with this on it. They said it works best if you have several coats on the suit. It’s supposedly pretty freaking awesome.”
“Where’d they come up with it?”
“They must have developed it themselves.”
“Why’s that?”
“Do you know anything about their commanding officer?”
“No, but I’m guessing she’s probably Mongolian or Chinese or something like that.”
“Mongolian, actually, but she’s got a big thing about aliens. She won’t let anything from off Earth touch her CASPers, and they’re using it, so it’s obviously from here. Since they’re the only ones that have it, they’ve got to be its developers.”
“Huh. Well that makes sense. How well
does it actually work?”
“Well, they claim it increases a CASPer’s laser reflectivity 20 percent.”
“Bullshit!”
“We ran some tests with the sample they sent us, and the increase is actually closer to 25 percent.”
“Seriously?”
“No shit, Top.”
“What’s it cost? More or less than the suit you spray it on?”
“Here’s the funny thing; they’re selling it to us for less than what the normal finish costs.”
“They’re probably trying to get us used to using it, and then they’re going to jack up the prices. If it really does reflect 25 percent of the laser energy a suit is hit with, we need to get that shit on our CASPers ASAP! Buy as much as they’re willing to sell!”
CASPer Training Building, Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth
Staff Sergeant Walker ran through several other scenarios without any problems, passing the ‘Beginner’ and ‘Intermediate’ levels of Squad Leader certification. Although he was wounded once during a Goka swarm attack, which nearly triggered a case of PTSD, he survived the rest of the simulations. “All right,” Walker said, “I think I’ve still got enough left for the Advanced Squad Leader certification check.”
“Are you sure, Staff Sergeant?” the tech asked. “No one ever does all three on the same day.”
Walker caught the tech looking at his watch. “Got a date?” Walker asked. “We’ve still got time, and I’d like to finish my quals. I’ve got lots to do to get the squad up to speed; I’d rather not have to come back again if I don’t have to.” Or I’ll probably kill you, he added silently.
“All right,” the tech said with a sigh. After the initial simulation, Walker had breezed through the rest, to the annoyance and chagrin of the tech. Everything the tech had done to screw with him, Walker had overcome with barely a pause, which had obviously taken a lot of the fun out of it for the tech.
That he had done so well wasn’t surprising; unlike most squad leader trainees, Walker had completed the same simulators, with minor variations, on a number of occasions. Hell, he had been the one behind the console, himself, more times than he could count. Walker had also run the advanced squad leader certification ‘Defense of Rangoon’ simulation on at least three occasions. He knew he could finish it in 30 minutes. Forty-five minutes, tops.
“All right,” the tech said, sounding defeated. “Loading ‘Defense of Pegasus.’”
“Wait!” Walker said. “I thought the advanced simulator was ‘Defense of Rangoon.’”
“No,” the tech said, a grin spreading across his face as he found a crack in Walker’s unbeatable facade. “Colonel Sansar switched it; she thought Rangoon was too easy. Now we do one called ‘Pegasus’ she wrote herself.”
“What do I need to know about it?” Walker asked, rolling his shoulders to relax and stretch.
“Nothing,” the tech replied, his smile wide as he pressed the keys at his console.
After a pause to see if the tech would elaborate—he didn’t—Walker finally said, “Well, I have to know what’s going on. How will I choose what weapons to use?”
“I’ll give you a little background, and then it starts. You don’t get to choose your weapons. You get what you get.”
“Well isn’t that awesome,” Walker muttered. He took a deep breath and let it out. You’ve got this, he thought to himself. You know how to run the suit, and you know leadership. Assess, prioritize, and assign resources. You can do this. He stretched to loosen his joints. It was an advanced-level simulation, so it would be tough, but not as bad as being overrun by Gokan infantry in real life. He took another breath and said, “Ready.” His voice carried a certain level of confidence his guts didn’t quite feel.
“All right, you’re all set here.” The tech pushed a button. “It’s loading now. You are on a transport ship heading back to your home base after a one-year facility defense contract. You just dropped out of hyperspace in the Karma system, and there was an unknown ship waiting for you at the drop point. Without warning, it fired upon you.” He pushed a button and added, “You’re on. Go!”
The scene blinked and Walker was strapped to his bed in berthing. Although he’d never slept there, having been an officer, he recognized the enlisted berthing area. He hit the emergency release button for the straps holding him down and vaulted out of bed.
He turned toward the door as lights began flashing over it, and sirens wailed. “Vampire! Vampire!” a voice called over the ship’s intercom system. “Missiles inbound! All hands, brace for shock and unusual acceleration!”
Without a thought, Walker flipped back onto the bed and re-latched the strap into the quick-release fitting, tightening it as quickly as he could.
The lights went out as distant blasts could be heard and felt through the frame of the ship. His stomach lurched as the ship spun in an unnatural direction. “Hit alpha! Hit alpha! Missile hits in Engineering and Aft Berthing! All repair parties respond to the hull breach in Aft Berthing.”
The emergency lights flickered on, illuminating the space marginally. Crap. If Aft Berthing was hit and holed, most of the troops sleeping there were dead. He pulled up the duty roster. Damn. Most of his squad had beds in Aft Berthing; as the squad leader, he had a marginally better space up in Forward Berthing. He looked around—where were the rest of the squad leaders who bunked with him? As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer; there was a meeting they had gone to, but he had duty later and had been allowed to skip it. The meeting room was in the back of the ship…and they were probably gone now, too.
Well, shit.
He needed oxygen in case the atmosphere failed. A pressurized CASPer would be even better. He hit the emergency release again and vaulted off the bed…to go sailing across the room. Zero gravity? How the hell did they do that in a sim?
If they were zero G, things were bad, and probably going to get worse. He didn’t want the CASPer, he needed it. He touched down on the opposite bulkhead and pushed off toward the hatch leading out of berthing.
Alarm bells sounded, and a new voice came over the intercom. “All hands, this is the Captain. We’ve got boarders inbound. Defend the ship! That is, we have boarders inbound; defend the ship!”
He pulled open the hatch and shot out into the passageway…straight into a MinSha. His unarmed combat training kicked in, and he punched the creature as hard as he could. The creature had magnetic boots on, though, and was able to maintain his position; Walker flew backward in the null gravity to bounce off the bulkhead.
“Watch where you’re going, dumbass,” the MinSha said. “I’m not one of the invaders.” It hurried off down the passageway. Wait, the MinSha belonged onboard? What the—Oh, shit. “Defense of Pegasus;” he was on that Pegasus…the Hussars’ flagship. And if he was on that Pegasus…there would be all sorts of aliens onboard. Dammit.
That was going to complicate targeting, he thought as he headed in the opposite direction of the MinSha. How was he supposed to tell the ones that didn’t belong?
He flew down a ladder well and came to a closed hatch. A young corporal floated in front of it, crying. Facial recognition…Corporal Sam Allen from Second Squad in the other platoon.
“Snap out of it, Corporal,” he exclaimed. “We’re about to be boarded.” He grabbed the latch holding the hatch shut, but the corporal grabbed his hand.
“Don’t open that!” the corporal cried. “There’s no atmosphere on the other side. Johnny’s in there. He didn’t make it…he’s dead.”
“Did you hear the announcement?” Walker asked. “We’re about to get boarded. We have to get down to Cargo Hold Two to get our CASPers.”
“Can’t,” Corporal Allen said with a sniff. “That’s further aft. All the hatches are locked shut because of the atmosphere loss.”
Walker didn’t have time for this. Something bad was going to happen. He could feel it. They needed weapons now. “Are your CASPers in Hold Two, also?”
“No, ours are
in Hold One. We were doing some weapons training earlier.”
“Well, that’s forward. Let’s go!” He grabbed the corporal’s collar and tugged him along as he pushed off.
The corporal struggled to break away, and Walker grabbed hold of a pipe, pulled him close, and looked into his eyes. “Bad shit’s about to happen,” Walker said, “and I need you with—” He broke off as movement caught his eye through the glass in the door. There was a golden robot marching up the passageway—no a squad of golden robots marching up the passageway—the invaders were here!
“The enemy is coming!” Walker exclaimed, turning the corporal so he could see through the window. “I need you with me. You got this?”
The corporal jumped, startled, as he looked through the pane, then he stood a little straighter. “I’m with you, Staff Sergeant,” he said, his voice more under control.
“Good,” Walker said. “Let’s get the hell out of here before those robots come through the door.”
* * * * *
Chapter 7
The Golden Horde Headquarters, Uzbekistan, Earth
“Colonel Sansar, this is Corporal Kayla Hanson at the main gate. I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’m afraid we have a situation.”
“What’s the problem?” Sansar asked.
“We have some unannounced visitors here, ma’am,” the corporal replied. “A transport truck just arrived, and the driver says he’s a bonded driver for a race called the Cartars. I don’t have that race in my download, so I can’t tell if he’s for real or not. Neither the truck, its driver, nor the alien are on today’s list of allowed visitors.”
Sansar accessed the GalNet. “Yes, there is a race by that name. Did the driver tell you what he’s here for?”
“Yes, ma’am, there’s a Cartar in the back of the truck, and it wants to talk to you. Do you want to talk to it?”
“Turn them away and tell them to make an appointment.”
“Yes ma’am, I tried that, as was written in the standing orders. They won’t go, though, ma’am. Their leader says he…or she—I’m not terribly sure what it is—needs to talk to you and won’t go away until you talk to it. I’d appreciate it if you’d come up here if you could.”
The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4) Page 9