Undying Mercenaries 2: Dust World (31 page)

The towering slaver eyed Graves curiously. “Your talk is pointless. What must be is preordained. The will of the masters is beyond question. I know you and I are similar beasts—but we are still beasts, nothing more.”

“No,” Graves said firmly. “We’re much more than that. We’re brothers. I’ve listened to your demands. Now, you must listen to mine: turn around, board your ship, and rebel against your masters. Use the giants that stand on the ramps. Command them! Take this ship for your own. We will help you kill your masters, and we will all be free. You can have valleys here to live in if you want.”

All the slavers generated blatting sounds with their overly-large noses. Their ears flapped and splayed. I could tell they were shocked.

“I will attempt to explain again,” the leader said carefully, as if Graves were a slow child. “First, you must lay down your stingers. Then you will be allowed to board our ship. If you do not do this, you must all be killed.”

I thought
Graves had demonstrated a great deal of patience up until now. But I could tell he’d had enough. He shook his head.

“Go,” he said. “Go back to your ship before we kill you!”

The face of the slaver darkened. “Insulting beast!” he said. Then his great hand lashed down and struck Graves.

My
centurion had his visor lifted to talk to the enemy more easily. The blow caught him full in the face. Graves tumbled, almost doing a backflip.

That was enough for me. I fired. My beam caught the slaver in neck, and his head popped off and splatted down
into the dust at his own feet, smoking and steaming. The tufts of curly hair circling his head caught fire briefly, filling the air with an acrid smoke.

The other three broke and ran off. Harris and Leeson, along with the other officers
, stood up and roared for calm. No one else fired.

I didn’t wait to find out what my commanders thought of my action. I rushed up to Graves, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him back to the protective line of rocks.

His head was lolling, and I could tell right off his neck was broken. He was having difficulty breathing, but his eyes rolled around to stare at me.

“Did you kill him?” he rasped.

“Yeah,” I said.

Graves chuckled, coughed
wetly, then managed to control it. “I knew it was you who shot him.”

With that final comment, my centurion died.

I fully expected Leeson, Harris and the rest of them to chew me out for firing my weapon without authorization—but they didn’t. They didn’t say a word. I think they were all secretly happy I’d done it.

The truce lasted about two more minutes. We watched the enemy delegation of skinnies reach the ship and vanish. The giants at the top of the ramps went into motion then, tromping to the bottom. The heavy troopers moved to cover, staying in their tight groups of nine. They encircled our position, deploying as we watched.

“Are we going to do this or not?” I demanded of Harris.

He shrugged hopelessly. We were way off the game plan, and no one seemed to know what to do next. Our chance to “surprise” the enemy had long since faded.

Adjunct Leeson walked to my position and crouched beside me. “McGill, you trigger-happy cuss. I’ve got a suggestion for you.”

“What’s that, sir?”

Leeson gestured toward the enemy line. “Why don’t you go nuts and poke a hole in one of those giant bellies? I almost feel sorry for those big bastards. They look scary enough, but they’re really just walking targets.”

I frowned. “Is that an order, sir?”

“No. But you’re always pulling crap like that, aren’t you? I’m hoping you
feel
like doing it.”

“Why aren’t we all attacking?”

He grunted in disgust. “The Primus became overjoyed by the idea that we might end this fight with the aliens peacefully. The surviving centurions have reported back to her that the effort to talk to the freaks failed, but she hasn’t given the go-order yet. She’s still hoping.”

I looked back over my shoulder. The distant ridge that hid our main camp was about two
kilometers away. I figured the Primus was back there second-guessing everything we were doing up here on the front line.

“I get it,” I said. “You want me to go rogue and take the blame for starting this battle. Is that it?”

“Exactly.”

I turned away from him and sighted my weapon on the closest giant, but I didn’t fire.

“Forget it, sir,” I said. “Man-up and do it your damned self.”

Leeson cursed me and kicked dirt on the back of my armor. I smiled inside my helmet.

“Shit, McGill. You’re even annoying when you’re following orders. Fine!”

Leeson drew his sidearm and shot the nearest giant in the belly. It was a nice shot, actually. I could see the impact point perfectly.

But, instead of a burning hole that revealed red guts inside, the laser bolt splashed and split apart into shimmering flashes of color.

“I’ll be damned,” Leeson said. “The giants have body-shields.”

He didn’t have time to say anything else because, after that, all hell broke loose.

-29-

When we had power to spare, any heavy trooper’s suit could generate a thin body-shield. They weren’t really useful in prolonged firefights, however, as they drained your reserves too fast. We couldn’t use them when we were charging across a field, either, because we needed every kilowatt to operate our motor systems.

Although we hadn’t used shields much in this conflict, it was still a shock to see the enemy had the technology at all. These squids weren’t losers, I had to say that for them. As far as I could tell, they didn’t have revival machines, but they had pretty good tech otherwise.

After Leeson discharged his weapon and lit up one of the giants, there was about a two second pause—and then it seemed like everyone on the field began hosing the other side with indiscriminate fire.

The giant he’d hit initially looked down stupidly at his belly, which was undamaged but sparkling. He touched the area, then his quizzical expression turned to one of dark rage. He lifted the heavy projector attached to his arm and blazed power in our direction.

Rocks popped, and sand melted to glass. We hunkered down as the beam swept over us, and no one died immediately. The moment the beam had rolled by, I took aim and fired my cannon back at the enemy lines.

Leeson was right, of course. I did want to burn these freaks and run them off the planet. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. But I’d gotten tired of being the only guy who took drastic action and catching hell for it later, so I’d let the Adjunct go first this time.

“Firing center!” I shouted, warning the troopers around me. Plasma cannons had a serious back-blast and more than one legionnaire had been crisped by trotting behind a weaponeer at the wrong moment.

My beam didn’t splash against the giant’s shield. I’d decided to light up the squad of littermates at his feet instead. I nailed one full in the chest, slagging his armor and dropping him right there on the ramp. I have to tell you, it was the best feeling I’d had all day.

The other
littermates immediately went ape and charged. That was enough to change the tune of the officers around me. They’d been shouting orders to hold our fire—not including Leeson. They recalibrated their minds in a hurry when they saw those crazed heavy troopers bounding across the short span of sand between our makeshift defensive position and the ship’s ramps.

All of a sudden, the air was alive with bolts of power mixed in with a few heavy projectiles. A missile-launching team on our side let loose from the middle of our circle of rocks, and they aimed in the same direction I had.

The very giant that had started all this was hit hard. His shield buckled, going burnt orange and flickering. He was knocked flat by the blast—but he got up again. I was stunned. If a direct hit from a portable missile battery couldn’t take one of these guys down…this was going to be interesting.

All nine squads of
littermates were in the fight at this point. Most of the squads were advancing at a stately pace, as if they were taking a stroll in the park. They fired their weapons sporadically, spanging bullets off our rocks. When one of those explosive rounds hit one of our men square-on, it took him out as often as not.

But as we poured back fire into their advancing squares, eventually we knocked out one of them, and the rest predictably charged. After that, we took most of them down  before they reached us. When the survivors did manage to make it to our lines, a desperate melee began. I watched as troopers on both sides were cut apart and gutted in their shining armor.

I stood up and fired my cannon point-blank. I took out a charging, bug-eyed berserker who was knocked on his smoldering ass, stone dead.

There wasn’t any time to congratulate myself. It seemed that the sky had darkened.

I turned and gaped upward. One of the giants had arrived, towering over my clump of rocks. He had a sword in one hand, which he used to thrust and cut. I saw men get hit by that thing—it was like being struck by a blade the size of a car. Limbs were shorn off, and troopers fell, howling.

The giant’s projector swept the scene methodically, burning victims as they crawled away. An idiot’s grin rode his face, as if he was enjoying his butchery. His personal shield sparkled, like it was in a rainstorm, deflecting dozens of light, incoming fire.

Staggered backward, I shook my cannon and cursed at it. The recycle time on these units seemed like an eternity when you were about to die.

Finally, a green indicator LED flickered on, and I shouldered my weapon. Somehow, I think the giant sensed I was about to take him out. His sword arm swept forward—

I fired. I think I’d been holding the trigger down, in fact, for several long seconds. Finally, the chamber cleared and the weapon released a fresh gush of energy.

Getting hammered by a plasma cannon isn’t like being hit by a laser pistol. Still, I thought it would have been less effective if the giant hadn’t been recently hit by a missile. These force fields were touchy, and it took a minute or two after a hard strike for them to settle down, turn glassy, and be fully integrated again.

The field collapsed, and my beam made it through. I held the trigger down, ignoring overcharge warnings and heat indicators. I had to keep the beam going until the job was done.

The giant’s chest was a smoking ruin before I let go of that trigger. He toppled backward scattering a group of my comrades who’d been trying to come in behind him to hamstring him. They never got the chance. He was dead before he hit the rocks.

A heavy hand clapped me on the shoulder. “Good job, McGill,” Harris said. Leeson walked up and surveyed the scene.

The enemy charge had been broken, and they’d been killed down to the last man. On our own side, we’d lost about fifty troops.

“The revival machines are going to be busy tonight,” I said.

Leeson shook his head seriously. “No, I don’t think so. The enemy took out our machine.”

“What?” demanded Harris, his voice cracking high in alarm.

“That’s right. Remember that flying platform? Another one of them just swooped down and nailed the camp a few minutes ago. Maybe that’s why the enemy was standing around here waiting. They seemed to know just where to hit us, and they took out the medical bunker.”

“But sir,” Harris said, looking around in alarm. “Can I assume we’re synched up with the other valleys for revivals? We just lost a lot of people. We can’t have all these troops permed.”

Leeson looked at him. “Don’t worry, Vet. I’m sure the techs are working on it. Now, let’s talk about taking that ship.”

He pointed toward the yawning ramps. They were all still fully extended. Inside, the ship looked cavernous and black.

“Shouldn’t we wait until the revival machines are—”

“No,” said Leeson firmly. “We’re moving out now. Graves is dead, so I’m assuming command of what’s left of this unit. We’re not going to fold into the other units right now. There isn’t time. We have to take advantage of the situation.”

Harris began to argue, but I could see Leeson’s point.

“That’s right, sir,” I said. “The squids might wise up and close their hatches any second now.”

Leeson nodded. “Here, McGill. Take this.”

He handed me a new plasma cannon. For a second, I didn’t understand why he’d given it to me, but then I noticed that the indicator lights on mine were locked red. The unit had overloaded during that last blast and hadn’t recovered. It would take a tech hours to fix it—if it could be done at all. The new weapon had a few dents in it, but it looked serviceable.

“Where did this come from?” I asked.

“Sargon died with it in his hands,” Leeson said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to know you had it now.”

I wasn’t so sure he’d be
happy
, but I took the weapon anyway and discarded my own unit. I plugged it into the grid, slapped in a fresh cartridge and gave Leeson the thumbs up.

“Come on, at a trot now!” Leeson shouted. “Advance!”

Harris and I followed. We moved toward the nearest ramp. The other two Centurions had teams of their own heading toward the ramp as well. If I had to guess, I’d say there were less than two hundred of us left alive.

I had to wonder what was going on back at camp. If the enemy had attacked the camp and taken out the bio people, it was certain we weren’t going to be seeing any reinforcements up here at the front.

The ramp was so huge it looked unreal. It must have been a meter thick and made of pure, black metal. The hull of this thing was dense and dull in color.

“This is bullshit,” Harris complained. “
Total
bullshit! We should fall back and hold our position, waiting for fresh troops.”

“They might seal the ship by that time, Vet,” I said.

Harris didn’t seem to hear me. “Hell, they could be flying them in from the other valleys by now,” he said. “If the Tribune really wanted to win this fight, he could do it now. I don’t get the brass sometimes. I really don’t.”

Harris went on like that as we mounted the ramp and clanged into the interior. I knew what he was really upset about, of course. He liked dying even less than the rest of us. But the idea of dying without a revival machine waiting for you back at camp—well, to a member of Legion Varus, that sounded just plain wrong. Getting permed was a fate for some other loser, not for one of us.

Once we reached the top of the ramp and entered the ship itself, a cool gloom closed over us. Dozens of troopers hustled in behind me.

I think every one of us slowed down when we actually stepped into the ship. It was hard not to.

The ship was…
different
. You just knew, looking around, that your tiny little human ass didn’t belong here. The ship had been built by true aliens—aliens so utterly different from us that they didn’t have much in the way of recognizable features on the distant walls or the high ceiling. There were no markings, no lights, and no flashing symbols.

Instead, there were sweeping streaks of glimmering reflections on the floor of the ship. I hadn’t seen the phenomenon in the ramp itself, but here in the dim interior it was unmistakable.

“Is that writing of some kind?” I asked Harris.

He frowned at me, then frowned at the deck. “Looks like various metals all mixed together.”

“I think it’s more complex than that,” I said. “The metal is reflective—various tones of silver and dark gray mixed in flowing streaks.”

“I know what the hell it looks like!” Harris snapped. “I’m trotting along next to you. Don’t you think I have eyes? Forget the damned floor, McGill. Look for targets!”

He had a point there. I lifted my eyes and peered into the vast, dark chamber we were marching farther into every second. The place was strange. It seemed to have a closeness to it even though it was obviously huge.

“Mists,” I said, waving my hands at the air that seemed to coalesce and move around me like thick, silvery smoke. “The atmosphere in here—”

I broke off as a screeching sound began. I turned to see who was in trouble. A trooper was down right behind me. I grimaced realizing it was Kivi.

“Back up, give her some air!” shouted Harris.

I could see Kivi’s face. She was in agony, and her visor was up.

“No!” I shouted. “Close her visor! She doesn’t need air, she needs to keep her visor shut!”

Harris finally got what I was suggesting. He reached down and closed Kivi’s faceplate. I could see her in there, still squirming in pain and dying. It was too late for her.

“Leeson!” I shouted. “Nanites, sir! We’ve got clouds of nanites in the air. I think they’re on the floor everywhere, being activated as we walk by. Close all vents and faceplates!”

“Do it!” shouted Leeson.

Six more people went down before we’d all buttoned up our suits. While troopers milled around and tried to help their stricken comrades, I cranked my weapon, broadening the beam to its widest setting. I fired an experimental cone into the air. Leeson was all over me after that.

“What’d you see?” he demanded, staring upward.

I pointed at the deck. “Look, see that fine grit? Those are dead nanites. They look kind of like graphite dust.”

Leeson stared. Finally, he got it. He passed the word on. Soon, we were marching behind a line of weaponeers who were hosing down every
centimeter of the ship’s hull and even the air around us with broad blasts from their cannons. But that was costing too much power. We halted our advance and retreated a hundred steps.

I looked over my shoulder toward the open door behind me. Outside, the sun blazed.

“We haven’t made it very far into the ship,” I said. “I think these nanites are like watchdogs. Maybe they know friend from foe.”

Leeson shook his head and conferred with the other centurions. They weren’t sure how to proceed. I went out into the sunshine again and stood on the ramp looking around.

Harris came out to join me. “This is a charley-foxtrot,” he said, and I had to agree with him. “Look over there,” Harris said, pointing. “There are those colonist buddies of yours. They’re probably having a good laugh at our troubles.”

Surprised, I followed his jabbing finger. He was right. A few colonist fighters were in the area we’d come from, squatting on some of the same rocks.