by Mark Wandrey
Despite the size of the mech, he was still crowded. The largest of the five Zuul, he stretched the capacity to accommodate his over two-meter-tall frame and barrel chest. Even so, Binnig had done a masterful job of customizing the older design to meet their needs. He felt like a silly Human, unable to wipe the grin off his face.
The power! The unbelievable power and exultation of operating over a ton of carbon fiber and alloy war machine was…intoxicating. He could take on the entire world, and he didn’t want to miss the next opportunity to do just that.
His brothers and sisters were sipping sports drinks and talking with the young Humans about moves they’d pulled off. Hewers and Dyffid kept asking how the Zuul CASPers were working and saying they were impressed at how quickly the five were gaining proficiency.
Of course we’re good, war is in our blood. Rex had studied his people enough to know they were preeminent mercenaries. Zuul merc units had been at the center of major campaigns and covered themselves in glory for thousands of years. He lifted an arm, and the suit’s arm rose instantly in mimicked response. What could be accomplished with that legacy and the power of these suits?
Yet at the same time, unease moved through him. He tried to search his feelings and put a finger on it and failed. What could be wrong about that? About the CASPers? Was it his surroundings? The bay was a combination firing range and simulated battlefield. The building was in the worst shape of them all on the generally dilapidated installation Silent Night had bought. The floor was strewn with all manner of debris to make footing more difficult, all in service of training. Better a CASPer driver slip and fall here, while training, than when their lives depended on it offworld.
He bent and retrieved a meter-long piece of rebar. It weighed at least 20 kilos and had a slight bend to it. He had to concentrate a bit to pick it up, since his CASPer’s hand was a good 40 centimeters past his real hand. In the end, he hefted the steel as if it were made of paper. He grabbed the other end with his other hand and easily straightened it.
Rex admired his handiwork, then bent it in half just as easily. The normal CASPer could augment a user’s strength by as much as 50%. Their new suits were more powerful, pushing the number close to 60%. And Zuul were already 25% stronger than Humans, on average, so the CASPer made them into juggernauts. Nothing could be wrong in that. His lips skinned back to reveal his gleaming white teeth, and he pushed the creeping unease away.
Already the five were beginning to distinguish themselves as different kinds of specialists in the suits. Ripley could make the suits do things that amazed them all, able to dodge incoming fire and take cover behind seemingly useless articles. Drake was a marksman of singular talent, able to hit nearly any target without aiming. He didn’t like the automatic systems, which annoyed their instructors. Sonya grasped situations and took advantage of them faster than the rest could realize what was happening, often flummoxing her opponents. Shadow could use the jumpjets like an artist, preferring to attack from above after analyzing the opponents’ positions and catching them completely off guard.
Rex liked the direct approach—charge in guns blazing. Not as surprising as some of his siblings’ tactics, yet it worked more often than not. Taken as a whole, they would be a team impossible to deal with. At least, that’s what Father was telling them. And why would he lie? Rex went back to bending the rebar.
* * *
Ripley didn’t think Rex realized they were watching him bend and unbend the steel bar with child-like glee. More than any of them, he seemed to be reveling in the pure power of the suits. Each to their own, they were enjoying themselves. Sure, Ripley was a little annoyed that Shadow had mastered the use of jumpjets before she had. She was a pilot, for goodness sake. Life was funny sometimes.
She was more excited about the CASPer than getting to go into space and through a stargate. She was fairly sure her feelings would change when the time came. However, for now, the mech was the name of the game.
“Break’s over,” Edgar yelled as he came into the bay.
Before, they might have complained and delayed the work. This time, they all immediately headed for their CASPers, exchanging back slaps with the Humans. Edgar kept an eye out while all who weren’t mounted yet got set, the Zuul suits coming alive within moments of each other.
“Looks like you’re getting it,” he said.
“Piece of piss,” Drake agreed. The rest nodded. Rex tossed the steel bar a few meters away, where it rang like a bell on the ancient concrete.
“Let’s do this,” Ripley said, and their training continued.
* * *
Dana sat in her office, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her rather than the work she needed to do before launch. She’d keyed into the master channel, listening to the chatter of enthusiastic youth training for violence.
Not entirely fair, she rebuked herself, wincing at Drake’s utter joy as he executed a ridiculously dangerous move to the cheers of his current teammates. They were training to stay alive and make an absurd amount of money.
“Ripley! On your left!” Rex, commanding, not a hint of snarl in his voice. Jumping into training with his whole heart, the way he did everything.
She’d argued with Alan for months about the modified CASPers. Not the cost or because it meant their children would actively join the company. She’d always known that would happen. But having CASPers would make them targets. The only non-Humans in CASPers anywhere in the galaxy…it would be a free-for-all, if the wrong beings found out.
“Hewers, drop! I got your six.” Drake, sounding delighted more than threatening, in a way she’d never heard him interacting with other Humans outside their family.
She saw it in his face, the moment the CASPers were unboxed. Joy.
“No, don’t drop, Hewers! Messy shooting, you deserve to take it up the—” Ripley cut herself off with something not quite a yelp, making an incredible shot and rolling out of the way like a pro.
They sounded like any younglings in training. All in, happy to be there, overbold to hide nerves. Like mercs.
The tradeoffs had always been worth it before. A merc’s life, while often short, was better than a life on the basic subsistence stipend. Taking an active role, not just waiting for death, but courting it and fighting it off…that had been enough.
Until Alan had come home with five tiny bundles. Puppies would have wrenched her heart, but these? Her children. All bright-eyed intelligence and unreserved love, always wanting to please her, and straining for the next adventure. Zuul were a merc species, all right, and they’d taken to training like ducks to water, needing something for their energy. A whole other race, ready for things much earlier than Human young, but her babies had never been alien, not to her.
The Zuul who’d come to visit, though...who’d come to take them…they weren’t the same. Uufek and Teef were intelligent, yes, but cold, distant. Alien in truth.
Tomorrow her babies would leave her, would go with the rest of Silent Night and these two Zuul. What would they be like when they came home to her?
What, a voice whispered to her as Sonya’s wild laugh rang across the channel, if they never come home to me at all? Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
* * *
Fur matted and every joint aching, Sonya ate a bar in the empty mess and reviewed her progress over the last days of training. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the soreness. It didn’t make any sense—the CASPer worked as the well-oiled machine it was; all she had to do was lift and lean and anticipate. She wasn’t actually lifting hundreds of kilos of suit of armor with every movement, so there was no need for her to hurt so much afterward.
“You’re tensing.” Hewers couldn’t possibly have snuck up on her; she must be even more tired than she thought to have missed his approach.
“What?” she asked through a mouthful of powdery protein.
“Tensing. That’s why you’re sore.” He gestured at her shoulders, which she belatedly realized she was still rolling.
When
she continued to stare blankly at him, he laughed and sat across the table from her, snagging her extra bar and tearing it open.
“The CASPer doesn’t really give enough resistance for you to hurt after, not with the workouts I’ve seen you do.” He shrugged, and not for the first time, Sonya was grateful she didn’t turn blotchy, embarrassed colors like some Humans did. “But you clench your muscles when you move, expecting it to be heavy, because CASPers are huge. So you hurt afterward because you’re tensing.”
“You an expert in Zuul physiology now?” she blurted, realizing the truth of it and feeling the need to blame him for the discomfort it gave her.
“No, Furface. I remember it from my first go in the CASPer. I knew better this week, and I still feel it.”
She put the rest of her bar down and scrubbed her hands over her face, smoothing her fur and hiding her eyes.
“Just going to be over here being a right idiot,” she muttered, flicking her ears. “Sorry.”
“It’s been a long day for all of us,” he replied, then waved the bar he’d taken from her. “And you already paid up.”
“We’re going out on the Zuul ship.” She took the first way out of the conversation that came to mind, and wondered if he’d already known.
“Huh. Was wondering if one of the Horsemen came back and was giving us a lift somewhere.” His face showed surprise, but it was mild. Maybe he’d already known, or maybe he was as worn out as she was.
“You know what the mission is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Porter.” He gave the name extra emphasis, and chuckled at her shrug of a reply. “I figure we’re going looking for Starbright. Think the Zuul know where it is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” She shrugged again and tried to spike up the matted fur on the back of her head. “Glad Dad said it’s a deployment. Otherwise I’d worry he’s just sending us off with the Zuul.”
“You don’t want to go?” The concern in his voice appeared so suddenly, she had to mentally rewind to remember what she’d said.
“Ah, shit, Hewers. Don’t mind me, I’m just worn like a week-old uniform.” Sonya shrugged, trying to make light of it, and shook her head. “I’m glad they’re giving us a ride, but I don’t think it’s going to be anything too serious.”
“Might as well be our new motto. Hope it’s nothing too serious.” He flashed her a grin, and, not for the first time, Sonya was grateful Humans couldn’t smell enough to get even a hint of her emotions.
“Come on, what could beat ‘Get It?’” She broke a piece off her protein bar and fidgeted with it before popping it in her mouth.
“Sunny.” Hewers reached across the table, not touching her, but marking the moment as serious. “You ok?”
“Nervous, I guess. We’re cramming a lot of training into a small window before we launch.” She shrugged again, the ache reminding her she was overusing the gesture. “And seems like we’re committing everything we’ve got left in the company for something we don’t know about yet.”
“You trust your dad though, right? The colonel?”
“Yeah, course.” She took another few bites to buy herself time to sort through her sluggish thoughts. “I know he has good reasons,” she said finally. “I just wish I knew what they were.”
“Welcome to being a merc.” Hewers shrugged this time, still grinning at her. “We got this.”
“Yeah.” She shook her head and shoved the rest of her bar in her mouth.
“It’s got to feel really good, though.”
“What? ‘Getting it?’” She made a face at him, talking with her mouth full.
“No, you heathen. Getting your own CASPer. Zuul all over the galaxy are going to shit themselves in jealousy.”
“I think only Humans are that gross, skin-face.”
“Fair.” Hewers snorted and waved away her point. “Yours are a little bigger, knees reversed. Seems like you got a little more audio padding to protect those big ears of yours.” He winked, and she threw her wrapper at him. “Come on. It’s dardy as hell. CASPers! For you all!”
“Yeah.” She flicked her ears away from him and forced her jaw open to smile. “It’s dardy as hell. A bunch of Humans and us, all armored up to kick ass across the galaxy.”
He missed the hint of discomfort in her voice, which made sense, because even she couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering her. It was an incredible gift, and she loved it, and loved her father for going to the trouble. Still, something didn’t sit right with her. She really was tired if she felt anything but joy in her new CASPer.
Sonya pushed up to her feet, astonished at how much her healthy body could complain at her. “It’s rack time for me. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah and too early, sounds like.” He stood, and she was gratified to see him moving slowly, too.
“Launch windows wait for no one,” she replied in her best Porter-impression.
“I’ll close up here,” Hewers offered. “Owe you that much.”
“What’re you talking about? I shot you down way more than you shot me.” Her ears pricked forward, alert at the possible insult.
“Exactly my point, fur-girl. Exactly my point.”
She mock-snarled at him but took the win and forced herself to walk straight out of the mess.
Despite her exhaustion and looming wake-up call in a few short hours, she walked the long way home. Breathing in salt and tides and fuel, taking in the shining lights of the city beyond their compound’s walls.
“There you are.” Dana’s voice, as tired as Sonya herself, came from the darkness outside their door.
“Why are you sitting out here so late, Mom?”
“Because my children are shipping out, and when I see you tomorrow, I have to be Captain Porter.” She took a breath to say something more but didn’t, and Sonya forgot the twinges of her body to leap onto the porch and crouch next to her mother’s chair.
“Mom…”
“How are you?” There was a fierceness in Dana’s voice, but her hand on Sonya’s cheek was gentle. “Really?”
“Sore,” she replied, leaning into her mother’s touch. “Nervous. Excited.”
“Worried?”
“I thought…” Sonya sighed. The words crowded in her throat, eager to be spoken out here, in the dark, alone with her mom. But shame piled close behind them, and she froze.
“You thought you’d be happier to go with the Zuul? Or worried that we would send you away?” That ferocity remained in her tone, the sharpened edge that always underlay her mother’s love, and it eased her tension.
“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s stupid, I know it is, and—”
“Sonya Porter, you listen to me. You’ve never, as long as I’ve known you, been stupid or weak. The Zuul are giving us a ride, maybe in part so they can spend more time with you and your siblings, but they have a stake in this as well, and there’s a clear contract. You can spend time with them, or not, however you choose. You are my daughter, you are Silent Night, not theirs, until and unless you choose different. You hear me?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And if you ever, ever believe that I’d willingly send you away, any of you, ever…” her voice broke ever so subtly, and Sonya squeezed her eyes closed. “You haven’t been stupid yet, Sonya. Don’t start now.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweet girl. Always. Help Rex take care of your brothers and sister. Come home.”
“I will, I promise.”
* * *
Alan looked up from his dinner and his wife. Dana hadn’t touched her food. She simply sat staring at the food without reaction. “You okay, honey?”
“You’re taking my children to war,” she said. “Why would there be anything wrong?”
“Dana…”
“Don’t ‘Dana’ me,” she said, her voice like razor wire. Alan cringed a little. “Why does it have to be this way?”
“We’ve talked and talked about it.”
“And
I never agreed it was the best solution.”
“No,” he said. “But it’s the only one. Like it or not, we have over 200 of our people lost out in the galaxy.” He pointed up at the sky outside. “They’re lost, alone, maybe in mortal peril. How do we turn our backs on them?” Dana looked back down at her food. “We’ll have the Zuul with us, their own merc cruiser, and a whole battalion of their troopers. We’ll be ready for trouble.”
“Our company was ready for trouble, too; where are they?”
“Hopefully waiting for us.” Alan sighed and looked at his own food. Despite knowing he was lifting with the company tomorrow, and food was going to be more difficult and not as palatable, his appetite was gone. “It’s a chance for the kids to learn about their culture, at the very least.”
They sat in silence for a time. Dana finally took a few bites of her meal, and Alan picked at his in a reversal of their roles.
“Launch 0600?” Dana asked.
“Yeah,” Alan replied.
“Bring my kids back.” She looked him in the eye, her feeling of anguish so tangible he almost gasped. “Please?”
“I’ll do my best.” The remainder of the meal passed in silence.
Afterwards, in the dark of his home, he slipped out of bed and went to the office he shared with his wife. He placed a data chip in the drawer that held the monthly bills. She wouldn’t open the drawer for a week, at least. On the chip was his will, and he had a copy for Tucker as well, to be safe. With that last thing done, he went back to bed with his wife and waited for the dawn.
* * * * *
Chapter 8
Brisbane Australia, Earth, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
The Phoenix dropship effected a wide banking turn before lining up on the runway for its final approach. Ripley watched as the pilot easily made a smooth, aerodynamic landing on the craft’s wheels and taxied toward the waiting personnel.
“Last load,” Alan called. All their gear was in space already, loaded on board the Paku in orbit, along with First Squad. He and the troopers of Second Squad and their CASPers were left. Twelve men, women, and Zuul in CASPers held a rough line as the Phoenix rumbled to a stop. “By the numbers, Sergeant Bana, load ‘em up!”