Steel Breach

by Casey Calouette

  The assault continued ahead with the armored company never halting for more than a few moments. The artillery came in waves, most fell behind, but some hit it head on. Two of the armored vehicles fell to artillery, one was hit by a Boben emplacement that fired at the last moment. But still, they surged ahead.

  Once the drone swung to the side and gave a quartering view of the wasteland. Column after column of the armored vehicles were racing across. Burning wrecks marked that some columns suffered worse than others. Darkness settled across the landscape and the spectrum shifted and the drone lit up everything in gaudish colors.

  "My feed is about to go down, sir," Colonel Clarke said.

  General von Aster nodded and leaned closer.

  The closer the troops came, the more intense the defensive fire. Finally the tanks halted on the edge of the craters and slowed the advance. The slender barrel on the top of the vehicle, which until now hadn't done anything, popped up above the edge of the crater and fired a rapid burst.

  The tanks moved slower, in more coordinated jumps, and advanced. The Boben emplacements hammered fire between the advancing vehicles but the defending turrets couldn't track well enough as one tank jumped ahead and then the next.

  There was a flash, a massive crash that overloaded the screen speakers, and the drone slid down toward the ground. It spun and fought to control the descent. The last images it showed were the infantry emerging from the back of the vehicles and taking position. Then the screen went black.

  "You know how to tease an old soldier, Colonel."

  Clarke hoped for a reaction like that.

  "But I don't see how that helps us. They're Sigg troopers with Sigg armor and they've been fighting like that for years. So Colonel, what are your intentions?"

  "I want to create a Vasilov unit that uses Sigg tactics. General, the Sigg have less population—so each trooper is precious, they have less resources—so each tank is precious, and they have less time—so time is precious. Our ability to toss men at a problem has hindered our development. The Kadan front is a holding maneuver to promote nobles, not a strategy for victory."

  General von Aster rubbed his chin and glanced back up at the monitor. "So, why do we have to change?"

  Colonel Clarke hadn't expected that question. His worst fear was having a statist for a commander, someone who liked the status quo. "General..."

  General von Aster shook his head. "I agree with you Cole, but there's some others who don't. Our system is producing a good many nobles, and the Dukes aren't shooting each other."

  "But what happens if the Boben come knocking or the EmFlife, or some other alien race we haven't even met yet? Suddenly our most precious resource is our soldiers."

  "The Boben don't worry me, but the EmFlife..." The General stared at the starmap for a moment. "But it all seems futile without the Sigg technology."

  Colonel Clarke grinned. "Actually, General, I'm expecting a delivery."

  #

  Chapter Six

  Sigg III - Sigg-Yakuto Orbital Platform

  Umi Matsuo stepped aside as the last of the Hellcat armored personnel carriers pulled onto the deck of the freighter. He stood a touch below average height with coal black hair and a crooked smile. His nose was bent and a scar ran from one lip to the bottom of his chin.

  The ceilings were overly high, the passages laid out with not quite enough light and the temperature a few dozen degrees warmer than Umi liked, and Umi liked it hot. The interstellar freighter was definitely not manmade.

  The rear hatch opened. Kelly Dell popped out and closed it. Sweat poured down her well muscled arms and over lines of tattoos. She had a head of crisp-cut red hair that almost glowed orange. When the hatch locked into place she jogged over to Umi. "You ready, Cap? This place gives me the creeps. You sure they ain't gonna screw us?"

  Before he had a chance to respond, a deep bass voice answered:

  "You humans think someone is going to take your antiquated, worthless technology."

  An alien stepped into the humid cargo hold. He was a Lokeen, a bear like creature that was the first species mankind encountered. He stood almost a meter taller than the average man and his yellow fur was actually a dense layer of sensory cells.

  "Well, I..."

  "Or maybe you think we're all a race of stoic and honorable caricatures."

  Umi crossed his arms and listened to the tirade.

  "We're not all the same, you know?"

  "I thought you said that all humans were thieves?"

  The Lokeen wrinkled its nose. "A generalization!"

  "So he's not going to steal our stuff Cap?" Kelly asked.

  "Sevel, you're not going to steal this armored division, right?"

  Sevel threw up his arms and shook his head.

  Umi thought that Sevel had been watching too many human movies, and judging from the theatrics they weren't good ones.

  "Humans are trouble enough. What would I do with this," he waved his arms across the hold, "stuff?"

  "You could sell it," Kelly said.

  "Of course I could sell it! But who's going to buy this junk?"

  Kelly shrugged.

  Junk. Umi looked over his shoulder at all the vehicles. Two years ago they were the best the Sigg could manufacture. Today they were surplus, an unnecessary burden at the close of an unfortunate war. They were going to scrap them all out, melt them down, and turn them into, well, whatever. Umi felt a connection. He wondered if the politicians and administrators wanted to do the same to all the old soldiers.

  Sevel smoothed his ruffled fur and leaned down. "Have no fear, barring any unforeseen encounters, I'll deliver all of this to Vasilov Prime in approximately," he stopped and thought for a moment, "forty-five of your days. Depending on the variations of space."

  "I'll be waiting," Umi said, and gave a slight bow.

  Sevel’s face broke into a smile and revealed a row of totally flat teeth. He returned the bow with a flourish.

  Umi looked serious. He'd never bow, but he loved how the Lokeen just ate it up. Someone had told him that the Lokeen felt a responsibility over mankind, since they "found" them. Though not all of the Lokeen agreed, and for that reason they were a neutral nation, but most importantly, a nation that did not export technology. They were smart enough to know what would happen. Tech transfer to less advanced nations had never gone well. Instead they profited by offering their technologies as a service.

  Umi and Kelly walked down the line of low topped tanks, and stripped rotor gunships. The air felt cooler the closer they got to the exit.

  "And watch out for trouble," Sevel added as Umi and Kelly walked out of the hold.

  "He always says that," Umi said.

  They exited the Lokeen starship and took a break on the edge of the Sigg Orbital Station. It wasn't a manmade station but an asteroid, pushed into place by the Lokeen, and bored out and made into a bastion of trade, and secondly as an orbital defense platform.

  The cargo transfer area was a giant warehouse space with containers of ores and finished goods. Dense equipment and heavy commodities. The one downfall of using a stargate was that the mass put through it increased the energy draw exponentially. Move a thousand men eight light-years for a couple of megawatts, but send through an armored platoon or a load of iron ore and the energy expenditure burned into the gigawatts.

  Kelly squatted down and stretched. Goose bumps popped up on her arms. "I've never seen so many Officers driving tanks before."

  "That’s because you didn't, we're 'veterans' now. Remember, this war is done."

  "I thought we were mercenaries."

  "Contractors. And not until we get paid," Umi mumbled.

  Umi checked his tablet and sucked in air through his teeth. "One hour ’til the gate opens." He tapped on the tablet and called one of his men. "Is everyone ready?"

  "Yes sir, the troop is lined up."

  "We'll be there shortly."

  "Aye, Captain!"

  Umi tucked the tablet away and sho
ok his head. He wasn't a Captain anymore.

  Alarms sounded and the cargo hatch closed up behind them. Umi and Kelly stepped away.

  "Right, let's go."

  Umi took a dozen steps and stopped. He had a tickle behind his ear and held out his hand in a clenched fist. Kelly halted and her right hand dropped to a place where a pistol should have been holstered.

  The station doors were closed and the normally busy cargo loading area was silent. When they had first entered the warehouse they could barely navigate past all of the automated loaders. Now, silence.

  Umi studied the rows of cargo containers. His eyes soaked in every curve, corner, and gap. He stepped to the side, the sidestep of a soldier facing a threat. He became painfully aware that his sidearm was packed up inside of a shipping container on a starship.

  "Cap?" Kelly whispered.

  He pulled the tablet out and keyed it on. He pushed the call button and an error beeped back. The signal was dead. "Shit. The signal is jammed. Stay close, we're going to hold to the edge and get to the main concourse."

  Umi knew better than to walk through the center. A platoon of tanks could hide inside. But on the edge at least he'd have one safe flank.

  The pair stuck close to the containers on the edge and sprinted while hunching low. It was that awkward run that soldiers learned from years of practice. The wide cargo doors approached, the access panel was split and tore.

  A small form dropped down off of a container and sliced at Umi with a straight blade. The creature wore a full bodysuit, tight and dark, a small pack tucked onto its back. In one hand it wielded a simple blackened blade half a meter long and in the other a slender blade with a glowing tip. Its face was covered in a mesh mask.

  Umi ducked beneath the blade and punched up.

  The attacker hopped back and drove the tip of the short blade straight at Umi.

  Umi rolled to the side. Kelly kicked in and drove the attacker back yet another step.

  It lashed out with the larger blade and caught Kelly across the bony side of her forearm.

  Kelly cried out and dodged a strike from the small blade.

  Umi drove a leg into the attacker’s leg. Instead of a cracking of bone there was a thud. "Shit."

  The attacker spun, stepped away, and rammed the short blade down.

  "Hey!" a voice called out. A gunshot shattered through the air. Umi scrambled back and barely avoided the tip of the glowing blade.

  A woman stood with a large bore anti-tank rifle to her shoulder. Bluish smoke rolled from the barrel. A second shell engaged in the action with a heavy clunk.

  The attacker fell to a knee, pointed the larger blade at Umi and threw the short blade at the newcomer.

  Just as the blade struck the woman, she fired a second round. The weapon roared and clattered to the ground. The attacker flew back like a sledgehammer swung into it. Armor plate and mechanical parts flew into the air and the small mechanical body crashed against a metal container, silent.

  Umi sprinted over to the woman. Kelly ran right behind with her hand clutching the wicked wound on her arm.

  The woman squirmed on the floor. She was hefty in the shoulders but with extraordinary muscled arms. Blood rolled out of her nose and the blade hummed and crackled in her chest.

  Umi dropped to a knee next to the woman. "You'll be all right, look at me, hey! Look at me!"

  The woman stopped grabbed onto Umi's wrist with a bloody hand. "Tell them to hold! They must hold! The Emflife are coming!" Her teeth were stained red. Her eyes bored into Umi's.

  Umi pulled his tablet out with his other hand and punched up the emergency code. The call went through immediately.

  Kelly knelt down next to the tablet. "I need security and medical services to the lower cargo hold. There was an attack, I have a female with a puncture wound to the chest."

  The woman screamed and the handle of the blade fell to the floor. The blade itself was gone. Her eyes rolled back into her head and blood poured from her mouth.

  Umi tried to hold her down and staunch the wound and then he felt movement under his hands. It felt like a snake was worming through her skin. He fell away from her and yelled. He'd seen the worst in a warzone, but he'd never seen anything like this.

  Then the woman was still. The writhing movement under her skin stopped, in several places slivers of metal poked through the skin. Her hand fell to the floor and a small medallion dropped.

  Umi, his heart still hammering in his chest, knelt down and scooped it up. On one side was stamped IX, and on the other an image of the planet Earth. A fresh hairline crack ran like a tectonic plate from pole to pole.

  "What the hell just happened. Cap?"

  "I don't know, Kel," Umi said as he stood on shaky legs. He turned and looked at his would-be assassin. "But I think our contract just got more interesting."

  Chapter Seven

  VASCOM - 19th Army HQ, Colonial District

  "VASCOM came back with your Officer requests," Major Peach said as he handed a data slate to Colonel Clarke. Clarke took the tablet and studied the list.

  General von Aster looked up from his desk over a set of dirty reading glasses. "Peach, send me a copy, please."

  "Yes sir."

  Colonel Clarke ran down the list and mouthed names he knew and nodded to himself. He had a few, a select few, but not nearly everyone he wanted. He'd aimed big when he made the list so maybe he'd get half. He reckoned a quarter of his requests went through.

  Two of his companies showed no Officers. Throughout the roster names were blank, spots showed a number, but any other details were gone. He'd never seen an org chart like that before.

  Colonel Bresowitz shuffled in with a pack of supply Officers on his heels. The old Colonel lost one foot to the cold on Lishun Delta, and a leg to the Kadan. "Gentlemen."

  "Breso, you have good news?"

  Colonel Bresowitz sat with a wheeze and sighed. "I spoke with three contractors and the best we can hope for is to match the ammo. Stevitz wants to refit the Sigg guns, KolbenStat will make the ammo, but isn't interested in spare parts, and the Martinez Group said they'll talk, but they want exclusivity."

  General von Aster snorted.

  "Are these tanks of yours really that good?" Colonel Bresowitz said to Colonel Clarke. He propped a tablet on his lap and scrolled through the technical blueprints of the Sigg vehicles.

  "Show him the video later," General von Aster said, and peered back down at his tablet.

  "Yes, Colonel, they have five times the top speed of our armor and can cover a much wider arc of fire, not to mention they have half the profile," Colonel Clarke said.

  "Doesn't sound comfortable," Colonel Bresowitz replied.

  "No, it's not." Colonel Clarke had spent many a bumpy-dusty day riding in the back of those vehicles. "Will the camp be ready?"

  Colonel Bresowitz turned to a Major standing behind him and nodded. "This is Major Bresov, she's your Supply Officer."

  Major Bresov stepped forward and saluted. She was a stout little brunette with her hair tied up in a bun tight enough to crack glass. The tops of her ears were gone, a marker among the Vasilov of someone who'd served on Lishun Delta. Her eyes sparkled above a button of a nose. "Colonel, the supplies are en route."

  Clarke returned the salute. "Thank you, Major, keep working on getting spares for those vehicles."

  "Pardon me, Colonel, but why don't we use the current billets?" Major Bresov asked.

  "They're soldiers, Major, not prisoners."

  "But—"

  Colonel Clarke cocked his head slightly and the force of his look stopped her comment. "I'll not run this unit out of a prison."

  "Yes sir."

  Colonel Clarke turned to General von Aster. "General, do you know why there are blanks on my org chart?"

  "Colonel, those are Officers already assigned to the Penal Battalion."

  "Current command?" Colonel Clarke asked.

  General von Aster grinned. "No, Cole, as prisoners."


  Colonel Clarke stared back down. It made sense. He just hadn't expected it. Instead of a highly trained Officer core he'd have, well, he wasn't sure.

  "Legal is getting personnel files as we speak," Colonel Bresowitz said.

  A line chimed on the General's desk and he turned away to take the call.

  Colonel Clarke felt the weight of his command settling. He'd pictured it with Sigg precision and execution and forgot how the maze of noble bureaucracies bogged everything down. The data he had was incomplete, and what he needed was compartmentalized. It was an outdated command scheme that had functioned so well simply because they hadn't needed to reform it. Now when he tried to push the boundaries, even slightly, the system balked.

  "Get me a driver now!" General von Aster said. He stood and the chair clattered behind him. "That was Lady Atzi, the council is coming to order in fifteen minutes. They're going to strip our budget. Let's go!"

  Colonel Clarke ran after General von Aster.

  The trip through the rain streaked streets took less than ten minutes. General von Aster spent the entire ride calling in favors and bringing every bit of political capital to bear that he could.

  Clarke sat in silence and watched the General do his work. The future of his unit hung on the edge of a single budgetary vote. He could handle an enemy on the battlefield, but the political tact required to navigate the council was beyond him.

  General von Aster paused a moment. "Cole, is your father on Vasilov Prime?"

  Colonel Clarke shook his head. "Negative, General."

  The General started back up again and didn't stop talking until the car arrived.

  The Council Hall stood in the center of the Vasilov capital on the banks of the Uvik River. The stone walls were stained black, with only a hint of the white granite underneath. Over time the mist and soot from a growing planet had added a quaint tarnish. Some said it reflected the politics within, no one thought it fitting to clean it.

  Inside they found a mad rush of staffers, consultants, lesser nobles, and council members. A small contingent from VASCOM stood on the edge of the chambers with their arms crossed. A frail looking old woman stood before the group. Her face was knotted into a frown.