by C H Gideon
The West ultimately lost the war to the East on Earth, which only served to increase the significance of heavy metal in communities of Western ethnic or ideological descent. So when a Terran officer blared heavy metal on the battlefield, he did so knowing that many of his forebears had done likewise in their last moments as they stood tall in defiance of oppression.
Many thought the ‘Metal Works’ movement, as it came to be known, was a cleverly-conceived Western propaganda maneuver, but metal’s significance had long since gone past the point of fact-checking being able to reverse impact. Like the myth that carrots improve eyesight, which was conceived by British intelligence agents to conceal their development and use of radar, Metal Works had taken deep root in Terran culture. It had become tradition, and tradition was especially sacred to Armed Forces personnel.
The fact that the Armor Corps’ nickname was “Metal Legion” only served to emphasize this particular tradition, much to its servicemen’s ongoing delight.
“Ready to deploy, General,” Major Pennington declared after connecting with the Bahamut Zero via neural linkage.
The last hiss of Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast sounded across the speakers, and in the brief silence between tracks General Akinouye boomed, “Drop the hammer, Major.”
“Dropping,” Pennington acknowledged, and the Bahamut Zero fell away from the Bonhoeffer and began its descent to the Brick’s rust-red surface.
Immigrant Song’s opening riff filled the command center at a steady gallop, followed by the signature cry of the song’s vocalist. In those first seconds, Podsy’s station began feeding him sparse information from the Legion forces assembled at the Gash. The Zero’s powerful sensor suite was able to reach a thousand kilometers from this altitude, and soon he made a positive ID on twenty-five of the Legion’s vehicles.
But those same scans returned eighty-four Finjou vehicles, which were moving to surround the Gash at a thankfully measured pace of just under sixty kilometers per hour. A race of natural flyers, the Finjou were unrivaled in aerial combat but left plenty to be desired in their ground-based platforms. And given the Brick’s incredibly thin atmosphere, the only aircraft that could operate were those capable of both aerial and void operations. The latest intel on the Finjou suggested they had a surprising blind spot in that particular facet of their arsenal, with few multi-role fighter craft.
That wasn’t to say they were without aerospace fighters, but it was probable that Terran tech was superior in that particular arena. And as the Bahamut Zero plunged toward the Brick’s surface, where it would be cut off from support and isolated from the rest of the Legion, Podsy knew the Terran Armor Corps would need every edge it could get.
“Deploying wings in ten seconds,” reported the Zero’s Wing Control officer, who looked so focused on her duties that she might have actually killed someone for interrupting her.
Everyone in the cabin took mouthguards out of their pockets and bit down on them hard. Podsy followed suit, leaning his head back against his headrest in preparation for what was to come.
“Wings deployed,” the WC officer declared, and the Zero shuddered as the drop-wings unfurled. “Braking in three…two…one…” she called in a raised voice. “Braking!”
The platform’s braking rockets engaged, snapping everyone against their headrests. The Zero was always dropped stern-forward to help cope with the shock-forces associated with braking and landing by keeping everyone’s heads from snapping forward.
Sweat rolled down the WC officer’s temples as her fingers flew in the virtual interface before her, twisting and manipulating a dozen different systems faster than Podsy could have ever managed. He had only seen Xi’s fingers move that fast, and as he looked around the compartment, he suspected everyone present was at least as capable at their jobs, too.
The drop-wing’s braking thrusters roared, raising the vehicle’s gee forces past five as the thrusters increased their output. Everyone in the compartment wore pressure suits to counteract the tremendous forces and prevent blackouts. It was all Podsy could do to keep his teeth clamped down on the mouthguard as his vision narrowed, and a check of the altimeter and gees showed they were just two thousand meters from the surface and were decelerating at eight gees.
“Drop altitude in nine seconds,” the WC officer called. “Prepare for separation.”
The Bahamut Zero’s descent angle flattened as it reached the drop elevation of seven hundred meters. The thrusters cut out, ceasing the overpowering deceleration forces and making it possible for Podsy to breathe normally again, which he gratefully did since he knew the bumpiest part was yet to come.
He was glad to see most of the compartment’s occupants shared his eagerness for one last pre-bump gulp of air, making him feel like not quite so much of a pansy. Everyone said that no unmodified human stayed awake for their first drop aboard the Zero, but Podsy was determined to be the first. He figured his new prosthetic legs gave him a chance since there was less room for his body’s blood supply to drain away from his brain. Several of the Zero’s crew had undergone cybernetic nervous system augmentations specifically designed to deal with the severe forces at work, but most of the crew had no such implants.
“Detaching in three…” called the WC officer, whose post required her to have such augmentation, “two…one…detached!”
The Zero went from a relatively flat and peaceful two gees of deceleration to near-weightlessness. It was a peculiar sensation, and despite knowing beforehand that the drop would feature the bizarre moment, Podsy was still taken off-guard by the brief serenity in the seemingly endless assault.
Then the Bahamut Zero’s landing thrusters mercilessly kicked in.
Two seconds into the ultra-violent burn, and much to his eternal shame, Podsy blacked out and was unconscious for touchdown.
“Event horizon in five seconds,” reported the Red Hare’s navigator.
Colonel Jenkins watched with the same measure of eager anticipation he felt during every gate transit. It was nothing short of miraculous that humans could traverse the vast distances between the stars via the gates, and he wanted to savor every moment to the utmost of his ability.
His mind turned to thoughts of his wife, and the last such moments they had shared. He had long since come to terms with the reality of why he was now alone, but that didn’t make unbidden memories like the last smile she ever gave him any easier to survive.
The Nexus’ gas giant vanished on the screen, replaced by the majestically-ringed planet in the same system where Dragon Brigade was deployed.
Jenkins pushed thoughts of his wife from his mind as reports began to stream into the Red Hare’s CAC.
He watched intently as the tactical plotter populated with icons and was relieved to see the Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s icon still in orbit over the Brick.
But what came next was more than a little disconcerting.
“Four Talon-class Finjou warships in geo-synch over the deployment zone, Captain,” reported the officer at Sensors. “Bonhoeffer is in low-orbit on intercept with Finjou formation.”
“Are they in drop profile?” Captain Guan asked measuredly.
“I believe so, sir,” acknowledged Sensors. “They have two fighter wings deployed. One wing is escorting the warship, the other… There it is,” he declared, piping an image up to the secondary display.
Jenkins immediately recognized the Bahamut Zero’s drop-wing, its aero-foils collapsed back into its bulky frame as its rocket motors drove it to a rendezvous with the Dietrich Bonhoeffer. If the drop-wing made an emergency landing, recovering it would be an even more difficult task than retrieving the Zero. Retrieving it was therefore important but far from critical, which meant that fire had not yet been exchanged between Terran and Finjou forces.
Judging by the Finjou ground forces’ posture as they moved to surround the dig site, Jenkins didn’t expect either group’s guns to remain silent for much longer.
“Colonel Jenkins?” Captain Guan cocked
a fierce, thick eyebrow.
“The drop-wing,” Jenkins gestured to the platform as it neared rendezvous with the Bonhoeffer, “deploys our flag vehicle, the Bahamut Zero. That means General Akinouye is planet-side and moving to flank the Finjou in preparation for a major engagement.”
Predictably, and much to Jenkins’ approval, the CAC’s various standers and officers stopped what they were doing and snapped looks between the drop-wing and Jenkins.
“Truly?” Captain Guan asked, stroking his thigh-length beard contemplatively before issuing a deep, hearty laugh which seemed both exuberant and contemptuous. “Excellent.” His eyes flashed in eager anticipation as he activated his chair’s comm panel. “Captain Chao, we will reach orbit in twenty-nine hours. Prepare for combat deployment under Colonel Jenkins’ guidance.”
“Acknowledged, Captain Guan,” Chao replied. “Colonel Jenkins’ vehicle is prepared and awaits his inspection.”
Jenkins cocked a brow curiously, but Captain Guan didn’t bother to explain as he stood from his chair and gestured to the blast doors. “Captain Chao and I have arranged a surprise for you. We hope it meets with your approval.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Jenkins said, feeling a thrill of anticipation as the reunion with his people was nearly at hand.
And it looked like it couldn’t have come at a more urgent moment.
14
The Big Dance
“This is Elvira,” Xi said after accepting an inbound P2P call from the Bahamut Zero. “Go ahead.”
“Havoc here,” General Akinouye greeted her over the secure line. “You’ve done good work on this rock, Captain. Negotiating the rebels’ surrender took guts and skill. It looks like Colonel Jenkins’ eye for talent is almost as good as mine.”
“Thank you, General,” she acknowledged, immensely grateful that no one could see how deeply she blushed at the compliment. “We’ve assembled the evacuees into groups, but we can’t bring them to the surface yet.”
“How many are we talking, Captain?” Akinouye asked.
“Just over seven thousand, General,” she replied heavily.
“It never rains but it pours,” the general chuckled.
“Copy that, Havoc,” she agreed. “They’re under nearly two kilometers of rock, so unless the enemy brackets them with sustained orbital fire, they should be secure while we repurpose our drop-cans into refugee centers and bring them up in batches. The cans’ air supply won’t last for more than two days, but I’ll make sure they’re all up before the deadline, General.”
“Perfect, Captain,” Akinouye congratulated her.
“I’m forwarding the brigade’s command codes and acknowledging your authority—” she began.
“Belay that, Elvira,” General Akinouye rejected. “Your ass is stuck to that chair until Roy arrives and takes over. The Zero will deliver mission-critical supplies to the well, at which point we’ll move to the northern slope and support Dragon from there. Seniority has a few perks, Captain,” he said wryly, “and one of them is the ability to delegate tedious work like running a battalion to people who could use the practice. Unless you think I need to brush up on my command skills?”
“Negative, General,” Xi deadpanned, suppressing a nervous laugh.
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, Elvira,” Akinouye said firmly. “The Brick is yours; I wouldn’t swoop in to steal the money after everything you’ve done. It’s not proper. And judging by the movement I’m seeing up and down the Gash, you’ve got things well in hand. It looks like you were paying special attention to tactical theory in that abbreviated version of officer’s school Jenkins sprinted you through.”
“Roger, Havoc,” Xi said with feeling, surprised at the general’s sentiment and how he expressed it. “It’s good to have you on the field.”
“It’s good to be here,” Akinouye replied. Xi thought she could hear a riff from Judas Priest’s The Ripper playing in the background. “Havoc out.”
He cut the line, prompting Xi to raise Winters. “How are we coming over there, Generally?”
“The Mole Hill’s nearly ready, Captain,” replied Winters. She had tasked him with mounting mobile SRM launchers in a series of ravines that broke the surface of the small mountain twenty kilometers from the Gash’s eastern end. “We should have this spot locked down in another forty minutes, and 8th and 9th Companies will have their embankments completed even sooner than that.”
“Good to hear it,” she acknowledged. “I’ll need 3rd Company to hunker down in those wetlands to the north after you’ve set up. The Finjou closed the gap Havoc had slipped through as soon as he broke through their line. Those wetlands are crucial,” she said intently, referring to a depression caused by a peculiar freeze-thaw cycle of the bed of ice that clung to the depression’s floor. With an average depth of ten meters below the surrounded terrain, it provided much-needed cover from the Finjou’s direct-fire weapons.
“Last Company will hold the low ground, Captain,” Winters assured her. “We’ll be ready when the party starts.”
“Copy that, Generally,” she said. “Good work.” She switched over to Lieutenant Ford’s direct line. “Forktail, Elvira. I need a status update.”
“Captain Chao’s people are ready to deploy on twelve seconds’ notice, Elvira,” Ford replied tersely.
“Tell them they can cool their heels for at least another hour,” she urged. “The Finjou won’t have us surrounded until then. Even fighter pilots need to recharge the batteries.”
“I already told them, Captain.” Ford sighed in exasperation. “They insist on remaining combat-ready throughout their deployment. I tell ya, these pilot types are bound up tighter than my last date’s knees.”
Xi chuckled. “The New Ukrainian judge gives that a six out of ten, Forktail.”
“You mean I’m moving up in the world?” Ford quipped as the Bahamut Zero began to climb the southern slope far faster than any of her vehicles could manage. Its total power and the size of its extendable legs, which could either roll or walk as needed, allowed it to devour the scrabble-strewn slope like a nightmarish creature climbing up from the mouth of Hell.
It was a thoroughly satisfying and inspiring image.
“Don’t read too much into an average scorecard, Forktail,” Xi chided.
Ford chuckled. “I’ve already positioned 5th Company five klicks to the west on the Gash’s floor. 6th Company is moving up the slope while I stay here with 4th Company to cover Captain Chow’s people.”
“Five by five, Lieutenant,” Xi acknowledged. “Good work all around.”
An alarm arose on her HUD as an urgent link request came in from Blink Dog. She accepted the request, already aware of what Blinky was about to say.
“Go ahead, Blink Dog,” she acknowledged.
“Captain, the Finjou vehicle line is encroaching on our southern perimeter,” Staubach reported. “Eight vehicles moving in formation have just crossed the fifty-kilometer line. Orders?”
“Stand down, Blink Dog,” she urged. “I’ll forward the info to the Zero and see if he can sweet talk these bird-brains into backing off, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Fall back to the plateau two klicks to your three-thirty and hunker down. You should have plenty of cover there.”
“Roger, Captain,” Blinky acknowledged, and his quadrupedal recon-grade mech began to pull back as ordered. As he did so, she received high-res images and active telemetry of the enemy vehicles provided by Blinky’s recorders. They were large but relatively light compared to the Terran mechs, with armor that was significantly less robust than anything the Terran military fielded.
But after dealing with the Jemmin on Shiva’s Wrath, not to mention her disastrous experiments in cosmetics application during the torrent of interviews that had followed Ms. Samuels’ glowing report on the Metal Legion, Xi knew that looks were usually deceiving.
There wasn’t much in the telemetry that was unexpected, but she still forwarded the information to the Bahamut Zero as
it sped toward the eastern end of the Gash, en route to a position on the north rim.
Normally Styles would have been her go-to guy for intel analysis, but she would have been a fool not to take advantage of the Zero’s highly-skilled crew. Not to mention that pulling Styles off the recently-flagging TBM operation could very well prove disastrous to their primary objective.
“All right, you turkeys,” Xi muttered as the rearmost member of the Finjou’s eight-vehicle formation crossed the fifty-kilometer line. “Who’s hungry?”
After his inspection of the ‘surprise’ in the drop-deck completed during the previous shift, Colonel Jenkins was once again in the Red Hare’s CAC. Captain Guan was receiving real-time updates from the Bonhoeffer after Jenkins had provided Colonel Li with his credentials and verified that he was indeed aboard the Red Hare.
The latest of those updates made it clear that the Finjou had no intention of backing down.
“General Akinouye,” Jenkins explained after reading the most recent missive from the Bonhoeffer, “has failed to establish a dialogue with the Finjou. Finjou ground forces have surrounded the Dragon Brigade and are now demanding the unconditional surrender of the rebel colonists who violated their sovereignty.”
“The evacuation deadline is in eleven hours,” Captain Guan mused. “We will not reach drop position for another sixteen.”
“The general will argue that the colonists are asylum-seeking refugees,” Jenkins replied, knowing that his speculation was meaningless, “and that they’re under Terran protection. He’ll also argue, truthfully, that once they’re on the surface, their life support supplies will only hold out for a day. Two at the most,” he amended after recalling just how many drop-cans the Red Hare’s sensors had detected in the badly-scattered and uncharacteristic drop-zone. “I expect that means we’ll exchange fire with the Finjou as soon as we make orbit. They won’t want us to reinforce our planetary forces, which is precisely what we’re going to do, and we can’t waste any time since evacuating seven thousand people will take at least half a day in a hot landing zone. They’ll maneuver to slow us down,” Jenkins gestured to one of the Finjou Talons as it broke formation and moved to a position that would provide it optimal fire angles on the approaching Red Hare, “but I doubt they’ll open fire until we begin evacuating the colonists. Then again,” he added pointedly, “I’m not especially familiar with the intricacies of Finjou psychology.”