by Mark Wandrey
“Nice,” Flop said. “I would have gone with the missiles.”
“It was a tough call,” she lied. Uncertain of the drone’s ROE, she programmed one of the missiles to intercept. The dropship gave a little shudder as it raced away. The drone poured on the power and did a skew turn away, and the missile was unable to catch up. She shook her head. If the missiles had nuclear warheads, maybe. Oh, well.
“Got the main radar back,” Flop said. “Maneuvering must have shaken something lose.”
Her threat board lit up with two targets. Ripley barked in surprise and spun her view. The headset let her move her weapons and defense targeting without having to turn her head. By the time the gunsight was targeting they’d gone from red to green, tagged as two Wasp class dropships. “We found Starbright!” she cheered. The radio crackled.
“Phoenix 001, this is Wasp 004, check your six, I repeat, check your six!”
“Oh, fuck,” Flop said.
Ripley spun her tactical view as fast as it would move. As soon as it came to the rear, she saw three more drones racing in, roughly paralleling their course. She desperately flipped the controls, changing the laser pod from attack to CID, released the danger-close safety, and stabbed the fire button. At the same instant, needle-fine laser beams raked down the side of the Phoenix as the three enemy drones passed.
Ripley had a second’s elation as one of the drones blossomed visible just a kilometer or so to their port, before an ice-cold sensation lanced through her chest. She blinked in confusion as the cockpit’s pressure alarm blared. She tried to reach for an oxygen mask, but a jolt of agony tore through her chest. She coughed, more agony and blood. “Dad?” she whimpered and fell into darkness.
* * *
The cockpit hatch shuddered with the force of his impact, his CASPer making it a tight fit. Rex paid that zero mind—he’d smelled his sister’s blood, and a hatch taking damage meant absolutely nothing in the face of that.
“Careful, son!” Alan called from behind him. “We’re dead stick, don’t know where they are!”
“Right, Father,” Rex replied, then called through his suit’s loud speaker. “Flop, you breathing?”
There was no answer. The blood in the air wasn’t all Ripley’s, and Rex’s nose could process faster than his thoughts—one scent alive, one scent already colored with death. With another mechanically driven punch, the hatch crumpled, and he forced his way through.
Rex redirected his momentum toward the form of his sister. She wasn’t moving, blood floated from her muzzle, and her eyes were closed. No, he willed silently. He pressed his hands to either side of his sister, anchoring himself to the ragged edge of her chair. Why hadn’t she been wearing her CASPer?
He knew why, knew she couldn’t pilot the ship or be tactical or whatever she’d been doing in the suit, but her CASPer could have protected her from…this.
“DYFFID!” he bellowed, loud enough his chest burned, willing the medic to appear immediately, already, twenty seconds ago, before the smell of Ripley’s blood had hit like the impacts on the Paku. He didn’t question how he’d smelled it, didn’t hesitate, didn’t remember unhooking his harness and flying through zero G, despite the fact they’d clearly taken fire and likely had more to come.
Dyffid didn’t care, either, as the medic-trained trooper appeared next to him before his thoughts could circle too far. He was out of his CASPer, a breathing mask over his face. The already unbelievably crowded cockpit was now tight as the womb.
“She’s fading,” someone said, voice choked. A whine crowded his throat when he realized they were his words, his voice, his certainty as the familiar scent of his sister dipped into something fainter, something sharper, something with a sheen of roadkill on it—death, creeping into the clean smell of her. He wouldn’t have it, wouldn’t allow it—
“Back off, Rex, I got her, I got her.” The medic’s voice registered finally, and he let her float so he could take her aft—not far, he couldn’t leave her side—out of Dyffid’s way.
His eyes locked onto the device in Dyffid’s small Human hand. Nanites had never been so beautiful, and he’d use every last one in Silent Night’s possession if it would be enough to save her.
Easier to fixate on the applicator, the steadiness of their medic, rather than the bright string of blood spiraling from Ripley into the cockpit. It smelled so strongly of her, he could taste it, and his throat closed in protest. He watched silently as Dyffid dialed the applicator and jammed it into his sister’s thigh. She didn’t move in response. He knew the nanites were painful, so her lack of movement was bad. Very bad.
Let it be enough. The words beat against his skull.
Let it be enough.
“Phoenix 001, Wasp 004. We’ll be to you in thirty. Hold for us.” Was that Captain Tesfaye’s voice? Silent Night’s most decorated pilot, on one of the Wasps? Way out here?
They’d found the Starbright, or whatever was left of it, and that fact could have been rotten meat in his mouth.
“Prognosis?” their father asked. His CASPer’s cockpit was pivoted open, and he had a breathing mask on, too. Only then did Rex realize the atmospheric pressure inside the stricken Phoenix was well below normal. Dyffid had already fitted a Zuul-shaped mask over Ripley’s muzzle. The air was full of fear smells, from the Humans and his siblings.
“I’ll get her CASPer,” he said, suddenly aware of the one thing he could do. “We’ll put her in it and—”
“Smart,” Dyffid cut him off, not turning from Ripley’s floating, fading body.
“Do it,” Alan said, and Rex heard the empty CASPer being unbolted from its harness.
Rex knew the rest of the squad was talking to him the moment he pushed through the hatch, but their words bounced off him without registering. He dove through the compartment, then froze, forgetting how to unlock her empty CASPer. He willed something to happen, and then other hands appeared, both Zuul and Human.
He couldn’t look away from Ripley’s CASPer, the next thing that needed to be done to provide some measure of protection for her, but he knew.
It was his father and Sonya, there where he needed them, detaching the empty suit. The rumble of Shadow’s voice keeping everyone else out of his way.
And then there was Drake, helping him maneuver it in zero G, helping him put Ripley’s motionless form into it, helping him listen to Dyffid’s clear, short commands.
Helping to keep Ripley alive.
Let it be enough.
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Classified Engineering Guild Holding—E’cop’k System
Alan never took his eyes off Ripley, making sure her chest continued to rise and fall. The command function in his CASPer let him monitor the life signs of all other drivers. She’d come as close to dying as you could without actually going through with it.
The dropship was pretty much toast, so they’d all transferred to one of the two Wasps that had come to their rescue. Everyone in the back was okay, minus a little laser damage. The drones’ weapons hadn’t had enough power left after penetrating the Phoenix’s hull to get through a CASPer’s armor. The cockpit had been another matter. Flop had been hit three times and died within minutes. Ripley took one through the chest. Private Dyffid, Second Squad’s medic, said it had missed her heart by a couple millimeters.
“Seat back took some of the energy, too,” he said.
Well, she was luckier than Lieutenant Prendergast. He never had found out why his callsign was Flop. Knowing pilots, it had to have been a good story. “ETA to landing five minutes, Colonel,” Captain Tesfaye said from the cockpit. He’d been Silent Night’s chief dropship pilot for 20 years, a solid Ethiopian man who was fiercely loyal to their company ever since he’d come to live in Australia.
“Thanks, Yonas.”
“Is she okay?” Sonya asked quietly.
“She’s alive,” Dyffid replied. He’d also been monitoring Ripley constantly.
“I wish I’d been faster,”
Rex said from inside his CASPer.
“She’s alive,” Drake repeated, a growl in the words to emphasize the point.
“You did what you could. You knew she was in trouble before any of us.” Sonya clapped her hand on his CASPer, the dull sound echoing.
“I wish—”
“She’s alive,” Shadow reiterated, and this third repetition seemed to unlock some tension in Rex, as his oldest son’s ears lifted to a more natural position.
Alan checked with Tesfaye. Still no word from the two Zuul assault shuttles. He’d been particularly quiet about the situation on the ground. “Captain Anderle will explain, sir,” was all he’d said.
True to his word, they set down on the dwarf planet five minutes later. Alan wasn’t sure he’d call it setting down. He’d reviewed the stats Tesfaye had forwarded. E’cop’k had an ambient gravity of just 0.2 G. Ambient because it was irregular in shape, so it varied as much as 20%, depending on where you were. Escape velocity was only 511 meters per second. A CASPer could reach orbit on jumpjets! Amazingly, it did have an atmosphere. At 522.5 mPa, it was about half sea level on Earth. It was also mostly carbon dioxide, and cold as Hades. You had to wear a mask and a cold suit, but you didn’t need a space suit or CASPer. Alan was no scientist, but the presence of a thick atmosphere on such a small planet was baffling.
Everyone in the Wasp’s hold was in CASPers or pressure suits, so the doors quickly opened to allow in a blast of local atmosphere. Alan’s sensors warned him it was unsuitable for Human physiology and -11 degrees. Better than vacuum, he thought.
A dozen men in cold weather gear were waiting at the bottom of the ramp. It was great to see some of his people again; the black logo with a single star over a mountain had never looked so good. He even recognized a few faces behind the breathing masks as they bounded up the ramp in the miniscule gravity, looking like ancient videos of Neil Armstrong on the moon. In particular, he spotted Captain Jill Anderle, Second Company Commander. He’d last seen her almost a year ago when he’d left her in command to finish the contract. She came to attention and saluted.
“Commander Porter,” she said.
Alan saluted in his CASPer. “Captain Anderle, I relieve you.”
“I stand relieved,” she said. “Gratefully.” She offered her hand, which he carefully shook in his powered armor. “Tesfaye was reluctant to give me details. You better fill me in.”
An armorer and a pair of medics had boarded immediately. The armorer took Ripley’s CASPer under remote and got it moving, while the medics plugged their slates into the suit and began checking her vitals. The armorer gawked for a second at the specially designed Mk 7 CASPer with its reversed knees, knowing who must be inside. The other four similarly designed suits fell in behind. It would do no good to suggest they not follow their sibling so Alan didn’t bother.
The rest of the squad began exiting the Wasp as Anderle spoke.
“There was some excitement right at the end of the contract. A light MinSha assault force showed up. Whoever hired them hadn’t told them they were facing CASPers, though. We mauled them pretty badly. They shot up Starbright as they were retreating.”
“Typical.” Alan snorted.
“We were on the way back as planned, when we started getting intel on what was happening on Earth. The Mercenary Guild was attacking.” Alan nodded, knowing only too well, having lived under occupation. “Well, Starbright was giving us trouble, so we decided to take an even more backroads route home. Ended up passing through the Klbood system. Didn’t expect it to be full of fucking cats.”
“Yeah, we followed you through. Saw the wrecked CASPer you traded.”
“I made sure it wasn’t any use to them.”
They’d walked down the ramp as the medical team moved Ripley’s CASPer like an automaton. It was easier to just keep her in the suit, since it was undamaged. A heavily armored cocoon. His first look at E’cop’k was a bit of a surprise. They were on an improved landing facility, almost a small starport. In one direction was a line of hangars and service buildings. Several had damage, indicating recent fighting. In the other direction were massive industrial buildings, some warehouses, and a strangely looming mountain. It almost seemed to be leaning toward them. Two mine entrances were clearly visible, and heavy machinery moved on the mountain’s face.
“We saw, good job.”
“Well, after that, we got the parts we needed and decided to GTFO while the getting was good. The cats were acting weird, but not as weird as the Sumatozou running the stargate. A Zuul merc cruiser was right behind us, so instead of trying to figure out what was happening, we got out. Then we fell out of hyperspace and ended up here.”
“How did that happen?” Alan asked. “Same thing happened to us.”
“That’s how,” she said, and pointed up.
Alan redirected his camera and saw a stargate. That was a surprise, because Paku’s records had said the system didn’t have one. What was more of a surprise was, the stargate was glowing. The filigree network of solar panels gave off a greenish-blue glow, which seemed to radiate away until fading out. “What the fuck is that?”
“It’s an interdiction field,” Anderle explained.
“A what?”
“Interdiction. Apparently stargates can be switched to block transit out, even if your ship is equipped with shunts. Not only that, you can set them so any ship passing within a certain distance is drawn to it. Like a weird tractor beam you see in sci-fi, I guess. Nobody knew about it.”
“Except the Cartography Guild, I’m sure,” Alan said darkly.
“Right.”
“So why? What’s going on here? What’s this installation?”
“It’s owned by the Engineering Guild.”
“There’s an Engineering Guild?”
“Apparently,” she said with a chuckle. “This is where they mine Astatine-222.”
Alan opened his mouth and stopped. He was about to express his mystification again, when the word Astatine struck an old memory. “Wait, isn’t that in the hyperspace nodes?”
“Bingo,” she said. “I didn’t figure it out until I looked it up in the GalNet. It’s in all the hyperspace systems. Little trace amounts, but it focuses and transmits the energy that lets you transit into hyperspace. Stargates use a bloody fuckton of it.” She gestured at the industrial buildings. “We’ve learned a lot about it since we got here. Apparently this is also the only source of it in the galaxy.”
Alan nodded and thought. Suddenly some of it made sense. “The fight, it’s with the Cartography Guild, isn’t it?”
“How did you figure that out?” she wondered.
“You’ve been stuck here, so you don’t know. The Mercenary Guild isn’t taking any more contracts. There’s an internal squabble for control.” He explained how the war had ended, including the Raknar in Sao Paulo, Peepo’s death, and Nigel Shirazi representing Humanity in the Guild. He also told her briefly about the Terran Federation.
“Sounds better than that Earth Republic; what a cock up. But Shirazi representing Earth? Sounds like sending a bull as a representative to the china sellers’ convention.”
Alan laughed, agreeing; it was a good analogy. She shrugged, then continued painting their situation in more detail.
“The Cartography Guild is trying to take over. The Engineering Guild was caught somewhat flat footed. All they had was a medium-sized garrison of Lumar mercs. They figured nobody knew about this place, but it seems like the elephants knew there was a secret source of Astatine-222. The story the Engineering Guild gave out of a dispersed sourcing didn’t add up. They must have figured it out and come loaded for bear.”
“What’s the opforce?” Alan asked.
“Mostly Pushtal.”
Alan shook his head. “Makes more and more sense; those cats on Klbood are gatekeepers.”
“It used to be the main depot system for shipments out of here. They took that system, then hit here. The Sumatozou took control of the gate, but the Engineers
took it back. They couldn’t hold it, so they put it in this interdiction mode, and dickered up the systems. So we’re stuck here. As ships show up, they’re shot to shit. If they’re mercs, they try to hire them.”
“Nobody tried to hire us when we showed up,” Alan pointed out.
“You were in a Zuul ship. The Zuul company who followed you was hired by the Cartography Guild. So when another Zuul ship showed up…”
“The Engineers opened fire on sight,” Alan said. She nodded. They were approaching the industrial buildings.
“It’s a mess, overall. The Zuul are good, but outnumbered by the Pushtal, who don’t seem to coordinate well with them. We’ve got the Lumar, but they’re strictly garrison—been here for ages, long enough that they have some of their females with them, and they’re not much interested in getting out into space.” Jill shrugged, gesturing ahead. “We were basically maintaining a stalemate, and our options were getting limited.”
“Any way to destroy the interdiction field and get out?”
“You know any Sumatozou?” The breather covered the bulk of Jill’s expression, but Alan could feel the frustration of the woman he’d worked with for years. “Anything we could think of has just as good a chance at taking out the gate, and none of us have a shunt to get us out of here. We might as well be at the ass end of the galaxy, so our best bet has been to find a way to win out.”
“And is. With the dropship gone, we don’t have any space-worthy assets to add to the mix. We do have an understanding with the Zuul we came in with, though.”
“That’s a story I want to hear.”
“You will—were you able to track any other dropships from the Paku? That’s the Zuul ship we came in with. We couldn’t fit everyone on our dropship, so the captain made space in one of their assault shuttles to take the rest of Second Squad.”