by C H Gideon
Podsy understood his meaning and nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Good,” Rimmer allowed just as the monitor chimed with a notification.
Podsy looked at the sensor feeds and clenched a fist victoriously. “There it is…fifteen kilometers below the surface, on the slope of that rock. See it?”
Rimmer leaned closer to get a better look. The man was seventy-eight years old but had taken such good care of himself that he looked mid-forties. Spending the last thirty-five years in the largely-defunct Armor Corps had not caused him undue stress.
“I do,” Rimmer agreed. “EM signature is consistent with a high-gain Vorr transceiver.”
“My guess is they’ve got an automated facility down there,” Podsy concluded, “and that whatever they’re studying is something the Jemmin want to cover up so badly that they’re willing to risk a shooting war with the second-most powerful star-faring nation in known space.”
“But why wouldn’t the Vorr just destroy the facility?” Rimmer asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t know.” Podsy shook his head irritably. “Just like I don’t know why the Jemmin haven’t destroyed it. They’ve got the ability to strike from orbit, and their sensors are better than ours, so they know where to shoot.”
“What if the Vorr transceiver is a decoy?” Rimmer suggested.
Podsy’s eyes went wide. “It fits…and now the fifteen distinct shafts make sense, too. They could be trying to throw the Jemmin off the trail.” He pondered the situation for a full minute before shaking his head to clear it. “I need to forward this to Styles. He’ll know what to do with it.”
“Agreed.” Rimmer nodded. “But send it through the chain of command. If they don’t forward this, I’ll personally do it. But only after you’ve put your head down in your rack for a few hours’ sleep. Understood?”
Podsednik hesitated. He didn’t feel like he could trust anyone, not even his deck boss, but he knew he needed to get past that. He also knew he had no choice but to do it Rimmer’s way. He needed to do everything in his power to help the battalion, and right now that meant playing nice with the Bonhoeffer’s crew.
“Understood, sir.” Podsednik nodded, pushing off from the table. “I’d appreciate if you could be the one to forward these findings, along with our preliminary theory, to the CAC.”
“I’ll do just that,” Rimmer said seriously. “Good work, Mr. Podsednik.”
As Podsy rolled back to his berth, he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep after flopping into his bunk. But he also knew that right now, he needed to show he was a team player and get on Rimmer’s good side.
Because if Shiva’s Wrath was anything like Durgan’s Folly, things were going to go south.
And soon.
“They pulled every data recorder and information storage system in here,” Styles reported in frustration, his voice heavily-distorted as he spoke through his rebreather’s external speaker. “There isn’t even a relay switch that could hold more than eight bytes of data left in this mine, Colonel. I’ve never seen such a thorough cleanup job.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Jenkins replied in muted disappointment, taking steady, slightly-labored breaths as his own respiratory muscles provided most of the rebreather’s air-cleansing power. “Sergeant Major?” He turned to Tim Trapper Sr., whose familial resemblance with his son was uncanny. Aside from a few deeper wrinkles and, surprisingly, a full head of hair on the elder version, it would be difficult even for an acquaintance to tell them apart.
“All three shafts were empty, Colonel,” Trapper replied, his uniform stark-white from head-to-toe just like his troopers’, and in contrast to the mech crews’ white-with-brown-stripes running down the sides. “We conducted bio-sweeps and found nothing but trace Jemmin and human markers down the shafts.”
“Are you sure other traces weren’t scrubbed?” Jenkins pressed.
“Hundred percent, Colonel.” Trapper nodded firmly. “The integrity of the scenes was secure. The only living creatures that have been down those holes are humans and Jemmin.”
“Vorr have self-contained enviro-suits,” Styles observed. “They don’t leave bio-material behind as a result. Just traces of the suits’ skins and minor magnetic disturbances which are almost impossible to detect.”
“Almost?” Jenkins asked hopefully, causing Styles to grin triumphantly.
“I found trace evidence of Vorr activity in the control center from about three months ago,” the technician explained.
“They came here looking for something, too?” Jenkins asked in mild confusion.
“It’s possible—” Styles shrugged. “—but at this point, all I’ve got is conjecture. My best conclusion, based on the available evidence, is that a single Vorr came in here, stayed for about six hours, and left. It could’ve monkeyed with the data storage systems, redirected the automated mining equipment, or just been scoping the place out.”
“Vorr aren’t innately curious, Chief,” Sergeant Major Trapper grunted.
“Agreed,” Styles nodded, “which means they came here for a specific purpose. But at the moment, I’m unable to present anything approaching a credible hypothesis as to what that purpose was. The data packet I just received from Podsy up on the Bonhoeffer makes me think the Vorr were looking for something on this world, but I’m confident they didn’t expect to find it in here.”
“Why not?” Trapper asked.
“Because they went to extreme lengths to establish over a dozen access shafts to take them down to the ocean below this world’s ice sheet,” Styles explained. “And it’s obvious they didn’t think they could extract whatever they came here for quickly, otherwise why go to all the trouble of drilling more than just a couple shafts?”
Jenkins shook his head. “We need to stay on point.” He turned to Trapper. “Have your people secure this facility as planned. We’ll move the column and establish base camp where we can support all four sites.”
“Understood, Colonel,” Sergeant Major Trapper acknowledged. “You moving up the rock or out on the ice?”
It was a good question. If his force had primarily been comprised of infantry, he would have chosen a spot up the steep mountainous slope. But his battalion was centered on the armor, which meant that maximizing mobility was key, even if that meant being more exposed on flat ground with little potential cover.
“The ice field,” he replied, suspecting Trapper disliked his choice. “We’ll rotate your people through the four mines to keep them fresh and to diminish radiation exposure. No longer than twelve-hour shifts in the mines, followed by no less than twenty-four hours at base camp. Every hour in the mines is equivalent to eight hours on the ice.”
“The rock’s hotter than the water,” Trapper agreed with a curt nod. “We’ll lock these holes down, Colonel.”
“I’ll have the Bonhoeffer deliver our first support gear within the hour,” Jenkins explained, “so your people should be armed with everything they need to fortify the mines no later than four hours from now.”
“Good.” Trapper nodded before leaving to coordinate with his subordinates.
As the venerable warrior left, Jenkins and Styles shared a knowing look before returning to Roy and preparing to lead the column to their new base camp.
4
Brinksmanship
“Get those cans emptied, people,” Xi called out over Elvira’s external speakers, directing the PDF troops to unload the eight drop-cans the Bonhoeffer had delivered to the site of their new base camp twenty minutes earlier. “Prioritize crew-served weapons, mortars, auto-cannons, and anything else we’ll need to fortify our position. The mess gear can wait,” she added pointedly as a pair of troopers began unloading crates of foodstuffs—specifically water purifier-heater units and boxes of coffee.
It seemed like half of the PDF troops from her home world were no-nonsense, by-the-book hard-asses like Sergeant Major Trapper. But the other half were at best more like summer interns, or at worst playing at being
soldiers.
An alarm sounded from her status board signaling a failure of one of Elvira’s external systems. An anti-personnel cannon had just gone offline due to extreme cold, causing her to raise Lu. “Chief, we’ve got a failure on L-1.”
“I see it, Captain,” Lu replied shortly. “I should have it back up in two minutes.”
“Two minutes?” Xi repeated in disbelief. “It takes you two minutes to melt a little ice off the ammo-feed manifold?”
“Pop the hatch and I’ll have it in thirty seconds,” Private Staubach offered as he took a bottle torch from its mooring and made for the cabin door.
“I like the initiative, Blinky,” Xi said approvingly, hesitating before unlocking the door. “I’ve got a thirty-second timer on my HUD; you’d better beat it. If you don’t, we might need to thaw you out next.”
“Yes ma...” he cut himself short while pushing the hatch open and clambering outside the vehicle. “I mean, yes, Captain.”
She snickered as he climbed over the top of Elvira’s hull, and her external video feeds showed him nearly losing his footing before he came to the spot directly above the L-1 anti-personnel chain gun. The temperature plunged significantly once the hatch was open, but in spite of the outside thermometers reading negative sixty-eight Celsius, the cold filling the cabin seemed less brutal.
It wasn’t until Blinky lowered himself down, bottle-torch in hand, that Xi noticed a pair of video drones whizzing about him as he worked.
She silently swore, realizing Ms. Samuels had failed to ask permission before deploying her video drones to gather some footage. She thought about calling her out on it but instead decided to pretend she hadn’t noticed. “Ten seconds, Blinky,” she called, “nine…eight…seven…six…”
At that, the alarm icon vanished, and L-1 went through a routine diagnostic cycle. Private Staubach slipped and scrambled across Elvira’s armored back, making for the door, and somehow maintained his footing while Xi continued the countdown.
“Five…four…three…two…one…”
Using acrobatic grace, Blinky gripped the upper lip of the hatchway, pivoted his body, and smoothly slid himself inside before landing on his feet with cat-like agility.
“Zero,” Xi finished, closing the door almost fast enough to prevent the last of Samuels’ video drones from zipping back inside the compartment. “Thirty seconds and he even got back inside,” she said approvingly. “Somebody ought to reward you for that, don’t you think, Lu?”
“Definitely,” Lu grunted, making no attempt to hide his animosity toward the mech’s assigned Monkey.
“Glad to hear morale and team cohesion aboard Elvira is on the up-and-up,” Xi continued blithely, reminded once again just how much she missed Podsy’s steady, capable hand.
An incoming communique flashed across her neural interface, which meant it was directly from Colonel Jenkins. The first part was a general status update to be disseminated among the crew and read:
All but one of the Jemmin warships have withdrawn. Bonhoeffer is maintaining active overwatch of our position.
“Good news,” Xi reported before opening the second, classified half of the message. “All but one of the Jemmin warships have withdrawn from orbit. The Dietrich Bonhoeffer is no longer being harassed by their aggressive maneuvers and is now in optimal overwatch position.”
“Good to hear,” Blinky said enthusiastically. “I was starting to get a little nervous with all those guns floating around over our heads.”
“You? Nervous?” Lu deadpanned. “I would have never guessed it possible from a man whose nickname is ‘Blinky.’”
“All right, all right,” Xi said, hoping to forestall an escalation of what would normally be a healthy bit of posturing, “I want you two running full diagnostics on the rest of our systems. This cold is messing with everything, so let’s increase the cabin’s temperature by another three degrees and spill a little more heat off the reactor onto the sinks.”
“Yes, Captain,” acknowledged her crew as she opened the classified portion of the transmission.
Jemmin stealth systems are hiding half of their vehicles’ locations from our sensors. Stay alert and keep anti-missile systems hot.
She acknowledged the missive via P2P connection relayed by her Owl-class drones, which were the only aerial drones the battalion had that could fly in the thin atmosphere. She then confirmed that Holy Diver, her company’s most capable missile-interception mech, had relevant systems showing green.
Twenty-one hours later, Elvira’s cockpit filled with alarms warning of inbound missiles. A pair of Jemmin vehicles appeared on scanners fifteen kilometers from her current position.
“Incoming!” she snapped over the company-wide. “Holy Diver, lock onto those missiles and prepare to intercept.”
“Copy that, Elvira,” replied the railgun mech’s Jock. “Two LRMs inbound, Jemmin profile. Current trajectory…takes them thirty-one kilometers west of here,” he finished in confusion. “Time-to-optimal-intercept, eight seconds.”
She scowled as she raised Roy on the priority line. “Colonel, I have Jemmin missiles passing overhead with apparent target thirty-one kilometers west of this position. Permission to intercept?”
“Granted,” Jenkins immediately replied. “Take ‘em down.”
“Engage LRMs, Holy Diver,” Xi commanded, and a flash of light from Holy Diver’s quad of railguns followed a half-second later.
“LRMs scrubbed,” Holy Diver’s Jock reported confidently, silencing most of the alarms.
As Xi watched her tactical plotter, the two Jemmin vehicles vanished. She clenched her teeth in frustration before, a few seconds later, two more Jemmin icons appeared on the precise spot where those LRMs had been aimed.
Again, alarms flared to life, and Holy Diver reported, “LRMs detected. Apparent target…twenty-two kilometers east of base camp.”
Xi raised Colonel Jenkins. “Colonel, I’ve got two more LRMs in the air, apparent target twenty-two kilometers east of HQ. Permission to intercept?”
“Confirmed, you are clear to intercept,” the colonel acknowledged.
“Holy Diver, Elvira,” Xi called as the missiles reached the apex of their flight paths, “intercept airborne LRMs.”
“Roger. Engaging,” Holy Diver replied, and another brilliant flash of light preceded the missiles’ icons getting scrubbed from the tactical board. “Targets neutralized.”
Just as before, the pair of Jemmin vehicle contacts disappeared. And again, they were replaced by a pair of fresh signatures, these sixteen kilometers to the south. Except this time, no LRM signatures appeared overhead. Tense seconds ticked by until, suddenly and without warning, a signal appeared nineteen kilometers to the east at an altitude of seven kilometers.
She had not yet reacted before a flash of light exploded from precisely that location. A thunderous crack followed eight seconds later, and early reports indicated the device had unleashed a terrifying ten megatons of energy.
And they hadn’t even seen it in flight.
“What was that?” Sarah Samuels asked, appearing out of nowhere to stand at Xi’s side.
“Ever played ‘chicken’?” Xi grimaced.
Even the normally stone-faced reporter went pale at hearing that, but Xi was surprised to see her quickly regain her composure. “Have we done anything that could be construed as antagonizing?”
“You’re a victim-blamer? Really?” Xi quipped, drawing a withering look from the other woman. “Buckle up, buttercup.” She flashed a savage grin. “Because if I know my CO, things are about to get interesting.”
“What the fuck are they doing?” Jenkins growled.
“The last of the departing Jemmin warships passed through the gate ten minutes ago,” Styles observed.
“Which means they waited until they were gone to start playing games.” Jenkins shook his head grimly. He didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit. “Theories?” he asked the room.
“My guess,” Chaps offered, �
�is they want to paint a picture of plausible deniability.”
“Agreed.” Styles nodded. “They’d be happy if we packed up and left like the Vorr, but if we don’t, then I doubt it’ll be long before warning shots become the real thing.”
“Analyze every bit of sensor data the battalion collected prior to that nuke going off,” Jenkins ordered. “If you can’t find anything, we have to assume it was dropped from orbit rather than launched.”
He carefully didn’t add, “Because if it was launched, and we couldn’t see it even with an active link to the Bonhoeffer’s sensors, they could wipe us out at any moment.”
No point in worrying about things outside of your control, Lee, Jenkins silently reminded himself. Focus on what you can control.
Seconds ticked by, during which time he forwarded relevant sensor data to the Bonhoeffer via secure P2P. General Akinouye personally confirmed receipt of the information and replied that he was attempting to communicate with the Jemmin in orbit. The two sensor contacts to the south disappeared, and Jenkins suspected there would be no further demonstrations in the immediate future. They’d made their point: they had better tech and weren’t afraid to use it.
With the towering mountain to the north and all of the mines located there fully-reinforced against attack, Jenkins knew things on Shiva’s Wrath just got a whole lot more complicated than even he had expected.
“Establish roving patrols per aegis protocols,” Jenkins decided. “Each platoon is to be assigned a mech capable of missile interception, and we rotate the patrol routes at five-kilometer offsets to provide overlapping anti-missile cover of both HQ and the mines. Distribute intercept drones to each company as they return to HQ, and supply each mine outpost with one launcher and ten drones apiece.”