“Okay, squad, mount up!” Irish ordered.
They all moved to their CASPers and started closing up, but Markus waited behind for a moment.
“How have they been doing?” he asked Hazard.
Hazard shrugged. “You know how it is. Got a few new privates who are still getting used to working as a group, and one true pain in the ass.”
“Oh?”
Hazard nodded. “Well, to be honest, she’s getting better. I think maybe her life before the Horde wasn’t all that great…”
Markus nodded. It wasn’t an unfamiliar story.
“Okay, then, let’s see how we do.” Markus got into his mech. “What are we running today?” he asked as his canopy came down.
“How about a little ‘Black Death?’” Hazard replied from the sim control station.
Markus chuckled. That was the graduation sim from cadre and involved taking on a never-ending assault of Tortantula. Markus had run it before—many times—and knew it wasn’t winnable in its current configuration, but the company continued to run it anyway, for some reason.
Regardless, he hated it almost as much as he hated dying, which was the outcome of the Black Death scenario…every single time.
“How about we do something where we have a chance?” Markus said. “What about, ‘Bug Hunt?’”
“Works for me,” Hazard said. After a couple of moments, he added, “Okay all, here’s your mission brief. You are landing on a jungle world to escort a queen to an off-planet conference. Your mission is to protect her. There have been threats made against her, but so far intel has been unable to track down who the adversaries are. Any information you can find will result in bonus payments from the queen. Any questions?”
“Where is she the queen of?” Private Walker asked. “I mean, what race is she?”
“Does it matter?” Hazard asked. “Are you going to refuse the contract if she’s a race you don’t like?”
“No sir; that’s not it at all. I just thought if we knew going in what she was, we might have intel on what race or races are antagonistic to the queen. It might help us figure it out more quickly.”
Markus nodded. It wasn’t a bad question, although it appeared her squad was all set to prejudge her. She must have been the one with the earlier problems. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
“That’s a good question, then,” Hazard replied. “Unfortunately,” Hazard continued, “you are guarding the fictional queen of Slugmandia, and we don’t know of any racial hatred between the Slugs and any other race. Any other questions?”
Markus would have bet she had other follow-up questions, but after the first response was choosing to keep them to herself. He smiled. Even hotheads can learn.
“Okay,” Hazard said, “initializing…now.”
Markus found himself in the back of a Phoenix dropship as it was touching down. The ramp was already in motion, and, as luck would have it, he was in the closest CASPer to the ramp. Leave it to Hazard to let him be the example.
Before the ramp hit the starport ferrocrete, Markus was already in motion. He took two steps down the ramp and tapped his jumpjets as he scanned the aliens waiting for them. He knew generally where to look for the queen—he had run the sim on a couple of occasions—but the operator could slip in any race he or she wanted for the queen.
Based on Hazard’s description, though, Markus easily picked up the queen—a two-meter-long black and gray slug-looking alien dressed in some sort of yellow, frilly dress that looked completely out of place on a slug. Part of her body was raised up off the ground, and Markus could see a circlet of gold that went around the end of her body that had her antennae. She had a number of legs—at least ten—of which the two closest to her ‘head’ seemed to be flexible enough to be “hands,” as she held a slate in one of them.
It was also apparent that she was the queen, because she had an entourage of smaller and colorfully dressed slugs and other aliens surrounding her. At their backs, the jungle that the starport had been cut out of beckoned in dark green, accentuating the brightly colored aliens and making them look like flowers in the near distance.
Markus roared across the distance between them on his jets, and the group around the queen shrank back from his imposing figure and rapid approach, although the queen held her ground bravely. He touched down five meters away and ran the last few steps up to her.
“Are you trying to scare me?” the queen asked. “If so, it isn’t working.” She looked behind her at her entourage. “Well, aside from the weak-minded fools, anyway.”
“No, Your Highness,” Markus said, scanning from side to side. “My job is to protect you, and I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you—” There! He saw the laser pistol coming up, but he knew it would be too late. With a thought, his laser reflector snapped out on his left arm, and he dove in between the queen and the MinSha assassin sent to kill her.
The MinSha fired, and both shots reflected off his shield; with his diving movement, they didn’t have a chance to penetrate. His CASPer hit the ground, braced by his knees and right arm, and the shield stayed in place as a third shot glanced off.
“Assassin! Three o’clock!” he yelled over the squadnet.
The MinSha, realizing she’d been spotted, and that she wouldn’t get another shot at the queen, turned and dashed for the jungle. Markus dropped his targeting reticle on the assassin’s back and fired his laser, but watched the bolt go high and right over the fleeing alien. The scenario was called Bug Hunt, not “Shoot the Assassin at the Start,” so he didn’t figure the sim would let him kill the assassin. Still, it was worth a shot. Literally.
In a flash, the assassin was lost in the large-leafed plants at the jungle’s edge.
“Quick!” Irish said, “After him!”
Markus knew the MinSha was probably a female, but didn’t feel the time was right to argue the point. He nodded once to the queen. “Good day, Your Majesty. I’ll be right back.”
He made sure he was clear of the welcoming party—and especially the queen—then toggled his jumpjets again. The squad was racing after the assassin but were all staying on the ground. He could see the MinSha as it ran from his higher vantage, but not well enough for a shot with any percentage of hitting. He doubted the squad could see the alien at all with the foliage in the way; he made a mental note for the debrief.
Not having to crash through the underbrush let him catch up to the squad, and they reached the edge of the jungle at the same time. Irish turned to look at Markus, and he opened up a private circuit with the staff sergeant. “This is your sim,” Markus said. “Run it how you would. You can use me like a new private.”
“You got it, sir,” Irish replied. He switched to the squadnet. “All right, let’s go get that MinSha,” Irish said. “Dusty, you’ve got point. Be watching for any sort of rear guard or friends he might have.”
“You got it, Staff Sergeant!” Sergeant Johnson said. He turned and loped into the jungle at a pace somewhere between, “I want to catch the bad guy,” and, “I don’t want to run into an ambush.”
Markus smiled. That was always a safe bet in the simulator. After a moment, the smile faded. And in real life, too.
The rest of the squad followed Dusty into the jungle, spread out behind him in a “V” formation, with Markus on the end of the left wing. They ran into the ambush about halfway to where Markus’ map said the Slug city lay. Dusty triggered the mine, then went cartwheeling through the air as it detonated. The amount of explosives required to lift a CASPer into the air like that was also enough to kill him, and his icon went red on Markus’ display. He noted with some interest that he had an officer’s display with all of the troopers represented—he hadn’t really thought about it until now—even though he was playing the part of a trooper.
The squad started firing into the jungle ahead of them, even though Markus hadn’t seen any targets reveal themselves.
“Cease fire!” Irish called. “Check your sensors.”
&nb
sp; It was a good call, as the enemy force hit them from the right flank—the side away from Markus—and if they’d all been focused on the front, the enemy force would have probably rolled them up. As it was, Sergeant Bridges had that end of the formation, and his weapons were up and ready as the MinSha rose from their concealed positions.
As the aliens normally maintained a body temperature close to ambient, they were hard to see on thermal scans, and Moh didn’t have any warning before the group of five MinSha burst out of cover.
“Contact!” he yelled, sending a position report to the other suits. He killed the first one with a MAC round, and then a second, but took a round off his right arm that silenced his cannon.
The MinSha pressed forward, but the momentary pause as they ran into weapons fire from the sergeant gave the closest members of the squad time to turn, and the combined fire put the rest of the aliens down.
Markus didn’t watch, other than on his suit’s battlespace monitor; he kept his sensors focused on the jungle to the left. He didn’t know if it was programmed in the sim, but if he was the enemy commander, he would have tried to get the squad focused one way, and then hit them from the other.
Expecting the attack, he wasn’t surprised when it occurred, and he already had a K-bomb ready when the MinSha rose from cover on that side, too. He threw the oversized grenade, then kept his right arm extended to use the MAC mounted on it.
“Contact left!” he called as he shot the first MinSha. The K-bomb detonated, killing a second alien and putting a third one down. He shot a fourth MinSha as Corporal Morton began firing next to him. The remaining MinSha turned to flee, and he shot it in the back. Not seeing any others, he fired at the wounded one still twitching on the ground. It stilled.
“That one was wounded,” Morton said. “It wasn’t a threat. Also, it looked like the other was going to run away.”
“Are you sure of that?” Markus asked. “Because I’m sure of one thing. They’re both dead now, and they won’t affect the mission. They ambushed us, and I’m not going to let them do it again. The mission is to pursue the MinSha that got away, and these won’t hinder us anymore.”
“Well said,” Irish stated. “Speaking of the fleeing MinSha, let’s go get him! Corporal Morton, since you’re so smart, you’ve got point. Let’s go, people! That damn MinSha is getting away!”
Morton led the squad after the MinSha again, but at a markedly slower pace. Although it was less likely to get them killed by running into an ambush, it was also more likely that the assassin—the attempted assassin, anyway, since Markus had foiled the attack—would get away.
They reached the city without seeing another MinSha, but then the squad drew up short. The Slug city was unlike anything Markus had ever seen. The aliens lived in burrows, each of which had been built up a little, so they looked like oversized ant mounds. While that wouldn’t have distracted the squad from its mission of capturing the would-be assassin, there was a problem in that all of the Slugs had a giant, colorful canopy over their burrows, ostensibly to keep the sun out of them, and the opening in the jungle—a circle over a mile in diameter—was a colorful mass of flapping cloth he couldn’t see through. It also looked like some of the Slugs had set up clotheslines for drying their sarongs…or whatever it was they wore…which led to more flapping in the early afternoon breeze, as well as a maze of lines that all appeared to be at about a three-foot height.
Markus shook his head. Getting through that wouldn’t be easy. Getting through it without destroying anything would be impossible.
“Well, shit,” Irish said, apparently coming to the same conclusion. The Horde taught their people to make a decision and execute it, though, as being the one dictating things was better than allowing the enemy to dictate strategy to you. “Moh, I want you to take the second fire team and go to the far end of this city. Use your jumpjets and get there as quickly as you can. Maybe you can catch the bug as he exits. Once you get there, spread out and don’t let him get past you.”
“You got it, Staff Sergeant,” Moh said. “Fire Team Two, with me!” In a blast of flames, he roared off down the tree line, with the rest of his fire team in close pursuit.
“Corporal Greer,” Irish continued, “you take Stafford and Morton and spread out on the left side. Private Black, you’re with me down the right side. Walker, you and Spartan stay here at this end of the city. Or community…or whatever the hell this thing is. Ready, move!”
The other troopers jogged off toward their destinations, leaving Private Walker alone with Markus, who opened up a private channel to her.
“Why don’t you slide on down a little farther to the right,” Markus suggested. “There are fewer people on that side.”
“Whatever,” Walker replied, and she walked off down the right side of the settlement. Both her voice and the way she walked indicated annoyance.
“What’s your problem?” Markus asked, his sensors watching Slug Town for any sign of the MinSha.
“Irish doesn’t trust me,” she said. “That’s why he left me behind.”
Markus chuckled over the link.
“What?” she asked, exasperation coloring her voice.
“You don’t know a thing about what’s going on,” Markus said, “and if you don’t drop that attitude, it’s going to get you fired—which is bad for you, but good for the Horde—or get you and everyone around you killed—which is bad for everyone involved.” He paused and then added softly, “And trust me, that’s something I know a lot about.”
“What do you think is going on around here, then?” she asked, her voice indicating a severe lack of trust. She waved to the town and lack of other troopers around. “It’s pretty obvious to me. They left the two people they didn’t trust behind as they tried to catch the assassin.”
“Uh huh,” Markus replied. “I guess you could look at it that way. If you had a bad attitude and thought the world was against you.”
“I don’t have a bad attitude. I have a realistic one.”
“Are you open-minded enough to look at it another way?”
“Are you just here to psychoanalyze me?” she asked. “Is that why you came along?”
“Newp, I’m just here to get back in the suit after an extended absence.” He didn’t say anything else, and the silence grew long.
“Okay,” Walker said finally.
“Okay, what?”
“I’m ready to look at it a different way.”
“Okay, do me a favor then. Walk a hundred meters into that settlement.”
“Why would I do that? It’s stupid. I’d just get caught up in all the lines and shit. There’s no way I could make it through there.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m too tall. Anything over about one meter tall is going to have a hell of a time getting through there.”
“Okay…so how big is the MinSha we’re chasing?”
“It’s about…holy shit! It’s probably right in front of us! What do we do?”
“Well, it may be right in front of us,” Markus allowed. “It also might have vanished into the jungle, too. Odds are, though, it’s in that settlement, laying low somewhere just out of sight. If you actually had walked one hundred meters into the settlement, you probably would have stepped on it by about the 70-meter point.”
“So, what do we do?”
“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Markus said. “First, we’re going to talk about why we’re standing here, just the two of us.”
“I get it,” Walker said, sarcasm returning to her voice. “We’re here so that the assassin can kill me, and then you can kill him. That’s so like Irish…”
“I thought you were ready to look at it from another side?”
Walker let out an exasperated sigh that her microphone picked up. After a couple of seconds, she said, “Tell me.”
“Okay, so we’re going to assume that the assassin is still in the settlement, and that she didn’t escape. By the way, if it’s a MinSha, it’s probably a
‘she’ and not a ‘he.’ So, we’re going to assume that she is in that settlement, just beyond where we can see. Since she’s insectoid, she won’t show up as well on thermal, either, which will make her harder to track.”
“So, why did Irish take the most trained people to the other end of the settlement, if the assassin is right here?”
“Two reasons. First, I used to do this for a living before I went intel. I have more time in a suit than anyone in your squad. I have a good chance of capturing or killing the assassin.”
“So, why leave me here?”
“I’m coming to that. Second, the MinSha is a trained assassin, who is armed. She will strike from ambush, possibly killing one of us.”
“And he’s hoping I’ll get killed.”
“No, he’s hoping that the assassin will recognize that I am the better CASPer driver, and she’ll kill me with her first shot, then you’ll take her down. Anyone that’s ever spent time around CASPers can see I’m more comfortable in one than you are.”
“So Irish is using you as bait? Why?”
“Because you’re part of his squad.”
“You say that as if it means something.”
“It means everything. As a squad leader, you want your squad to be the best, but you’re also like the parent to the squad—you want everyone to prosper and get along. And most of all, you want everyone to come home from a contract. When people don’t get along—when the squad doesn’t work like a team—the odds of that decrease greatly. Nothing is worse than returning home without your squad.” He paused and then added, “Trust me, it happened to me, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“Your squad got killed?”
“Yeah, and I was the only one who made it back. It hurt so much that I got out of CASPers for a while because I couldn’t do it anymore—lose people, that is.”
With Your Shield Page 14