Armor World Page 5

  “When commanded to do so, yes. We’ll send commandos aboard to deal with the crew directly.”

  “I volunteer for that duty, Primus,” I said loudly.

  “Well, you can count me out,” Harris said. “I’ve committed suicide lots of ways, but they clearly have a force field or something protecting that monster ship, and I’m not going to smash into those walls like our bombs did.”

  “Wrong,” Graves told him. “You’re in this, Harris. We all are—my entire cohort.”

  “Why us?” Harris demanded.

  “Because this outfit has the most experienced teleport operatives in Earth’s armed forces. We’ve been called upon by Earth to serve, and by God we’ll do it with distinction today. No choices, no options.”

  “Shit…” Harris breathed.

  That was pretty much everyone’s opinion. This was a bad situation, and it wasn’t getting any better.

  The briefing broke up, and we were told to go upstairs We were to gear up and catch a few hours’ sleep if possible. The third cohort of Legion Varus was playing commando at dawn.

  -8-

  Instead of searching for a bunk or teleport gear, I headed right out to the main floor. In a stroke of luck, I located Galina and Floramel together. My mind immediately leapt to the possibility they were working on a way to get my daughter to safety—but that wasn’t what they were doing at all.

  “This isn’t possible…” Turov said, frowning at the data. “This kind of chemical signature—it’s not possible in a manufactured object.”

  “We don’t know how this ship was built—or if it’s even a ship, really,” Floramel told her. “We have to examine more remote possibilities. They might have found this shell of super-dense material and turned it into a vessel.”

  “Like turning a hollowed log into a boat? Preposterous.”

  Now, I knew you couldn’t just go at Floramel that way. She always had her ducks in a firm line before she spoke, especially about something technical.

  “And yet the ship exists,” Floramel responded. “It’s approaching rapidly, and it’s clearly under powered flight. How would you explain its apparent composition? Even the gravimetrics support my theory. That object is a powered ship, and it is also made of compressed stellar dust.”

  Turov pursed her lips like she smelled a skunk and stared at the data.

  “I still say it’s impossible. Could this thing be an illusion of some kind? A phantom made to distract us?”

  “That phantom is pretty damned solid,” I interjected. “We just smashed a volley of T-bombs into it.”

  Turov glanced at me. “Ah, there you are McGill. About your daughter—something has been arranged.”

  “How’s that?”

  “She’s been… advanced to candidacy. This means she is eligible for an immediate internship here at Central. Floramel has been gracious enough to become her mentor. We’ve relayed this to her tapper, and she’s been ordered to report to this office immediately.”

  I frowned. “But did you talk to her? Did you tell her what’s happening?”

  Galina frowned. “That’s your response? No thanks or anything? I’m busy defending the planet here—none of us really have time to do more.”

  “Okay, sorry. Thank you ladies—both of you.”

  Turning to go, I left them to their argument. Before I could take ten steps, however, I heard small, slapping boots behind me.

  “Tribune?” I asked Galina when she came to walk next to me. “What’s up?”

  “I… I’m sorry James. I shouldn’t have been rude just now—I’m stressed.”

  “Yeah, I bet. That’s okay. We’re all on edge, seeing as some kind of alien moon is falling on our heads. What were you guys talking about? This ship is made of stardust?”

  “Yes, apparently so. It’s very odd… how would you build such a thing?”

  “Right now, what matters to me is how we go about unbuilding it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think we can. Compressed matter is incredibly tough. Even if that ship’s hull is only a hundred meters thick and the region inside is hollow, it still will have as much mass and gravity as our own Moon.”

  “And all the gravity readings support Floramel’s theory, don’t they?”

  “Yes… it’s very strange. If they have the technology to hollow out a neutron star, or something… I don’t see how we can beat them.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m involved in a plan to do just that.”

  As she was my tribune, I gave her the details of Graves’ plan. She listened in concern.

  “Graves has not yet approved this with me. He’s working directly with Drusus, bypassing me again. But in any case… it sounds to me like you’ll be splattered into a million pieces—just like our bombs.”

  “May be.”

  We’d reached the elevator, and we began the long ride up. She put her hand on my arm and squeezed.

  “What are you going to do before your scheduled suicide in the morning?”

  “Uh…” I said, looking her over. It seemed like she was making an offer. One which I found very appealing.

  But I sighed resignedly. “I have to find Etta. I have to get her to safety first—I don’t have very long before this mess begins striking the fan.”

  “I understand… What if I help? My air car is parked in a nearby garage. I’ll take you to her, and we’ll fly her to safety.”

  “That would be great, Galina.”

  Without thinking about it, I swept her up and kissed her. I’d wanted to do that for the last hour or two.

  She went with it for a few moments, but then she gently pulled away. “We’re on camera, you know.”

  “Yeah, but our affair isn’t a secret anymore.”

  She pulled away farther, and I let her go. We rode up to the surface then walked the streets to the parking garage.

  People were out there protesting. A swarming crowd was held back by police barricades. They waved angry fists at us and threw stuff—but neither of us was fazed. After you’ve fought and died on a dozen planets, a riot at the capitol seems like a high school dance.

  Climbing into Galina’s air car, we soon launched above the throngs. Now that we were outside Central, I began getting all the texts that had been censored while I was in the War Room.

  For once, I paged through them eagerly. Etta had written me and so had Della.

  “They’re in the harbor district,” I told Galina, flicking the address from my tapper to her onboard autopilot.

  After she tapped an approval, the car slewed around and lost altitude, heading for the new destination.

  Not ten minutes later we’d located Della and Etta at an outdoor mall. There wasn’t much shopping going on—but there was looting.

  They climbed into the backseat, laughing and showing us the stuff they’d picked up. It was clothing, mostly. The expensive smart-kind that the younger ladies liked to wear.

  “Did you two just steal that?” Turov demanded sourly.

  “Not at all,” Della said. “We chased off looters, in fact. Unfortunately, when people drop their goods in the middle of the pathway there’s no easy way to return it to the rightful owner.”

  Etta fell quiet. What had no doubt been a fun time had turned into something serious. She wanted to join Central, not be labeled a criminal.

  “There’s a way,” she said suddenly. “We can scan for nano-markings. They’ll be registered to a corporation somewhere.”

  Galina laughed. “You are the smart one,” she said. “Are you sure you aren’t Natasha’s daughter?”

  “Natasha Elkin? Well… she did raise me for several years. Maybe some of her—”

  “I’m her mother,” Della said firmly.

  She was getting steamed, and I couldn’t blame her. Galina was a great lover, but she tended to change people’s moods for the worse when she got to talking to them.

  This was all about petty jealousy, of course. Della was my ex, and Galina never played nice when there was
a potential rival around.

  Deciding to intervene, I laughed loudly. “It’s great how that green dress keeps crawling around on your leg, Della! It’s trying to figure out what you want it to do.”

  “Yes…” she said. “It is amusing. I’ll try it on later if you’re still with us.”

  “Uh…” I said, taking a quick glance at Galina. She shook her head ever so slightly, and I forced a smile.

  “I think it would be best if you ladies were transported out of town and dropped off in a safe place. We could go to Bridgeport, if you like. I—”

  “No,” Galina said. “We’re going to Central. Floramel did an excellent job with the internship invitation, I’m afraid. Maybe too good.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “Remember when you wanted Etta to come to Central? Well, her application was already on file, and she has been accepted. She’s government property now, just like you and I are. And you, Della—you’ve been added to the roster for Graves’ project in any case.”

  I groaned aloud.

  “What project?” Della asked.

  A slightly evil smile played on Galina’s lips. “You haven’t heard—? Oh, of course you haven’t. You’ve been out… shopping while Earth is being invaded. The situation is classified, but you’re all cleared now to hear about it. James? Please brief them.”

  Sadly, I gave them the bad news. Della was part of the same cohort I was in, under Graves’ command, but she’d become a ghost specialist recently, and I hadn’t thought they’d want her for this mission.

  Apparently, I was wrong. We were all going into that ship together—or getting permed in the attempt.

  The worst part was informing Etta. We were her only parents, after all, and she already knew what dead legionnaires looked like.

  Etta didn’t cry, but she was in mild shock. Her face was pale as she gazed out the window at the city sliding by underneath us. Now and then, she craned her neck upwards.

  “I can see it,” she said quietly. “It’s always there now, even in daylight.”

  None of us asked her what she was talking about. We knew Earth’s new moon was coming. It grew larger and more threatening every hour.

  -9-

  That night, we all went back to Central. There were plenty of quarters for troops in emergencies. The building had been built with a century’s worth of expansion in mind.

  After checking in with my unit and arranging a short-range teleport harness for each soldier, I managed to slip away with some excuse about a briefing.

  Galina met me at her office, shooed away everyone else, and made sweet love to me on her couch.

  “I’d like to spend the night with you,” she said, “but I know you have to get back to your troops.”

  After a final hug, we parted ways. I found a bunk about seventy floors below her office and slept a few hard hours until Veteran Moller began hammering on the walls to wake everyone up.

  Pulling myself together, I inspected my yawning troops. It was briefing-time.

  “3rd Unit,” I said, “we’ve been called upon this fine morning to defend Earth directly. It hasn’t been since the Cephalopod invasion that we’ve been able to make that claim.”

  “You’re scaring me, boss,” Carlos said.

  “You should be scared,” Harris muttered.

  Everyone else stayed quiet, staring at me.

  “That’s right. We’re first-responders today. When that big ship arrives, we’re going to board her. This is the kind of opportunity we’ve all dreamt of.”

  They looked stunned. Not even Carlos had a snappy remark for this occasion.

  “Legion Varus has more experience, more battle creds and more support from the brass than any outfit in history.”

  At this point I was lying my ass off, but some of them were buying it. Not Carlos of course, or Harris, or Cooper—but people like Moller and Sargon. They liked and needed a good pep-speech before they got their asses handed to them by some heartless alien menace.

  “Accordingly,” I continued, “I’ve been authorized to hand out combat bonuses today to everyone under my command. That’s right, double-pay for a month!”

  There were a few cheers. Not many, but a few.

  Carlos was making that twisted-lip look of disgust, but it was Cooper who raised a hand to speak. Reluctantly, I called on him.

  “Sir, that’s great news and all, but it’s got me wondering—is Central offering this to us because they expect a mass-perming?”

  Right then, I wanted to kick his ass out the window and into the streets a thousand meters below us. That was the urge Graves had undoubtedly felt toward me on occasions like this when I opened my mouth at briefings.

  “Absolutely not,” I boomed loudly. When I lie in pubic, I like to go big. “That’s damn-near impossible. Hell, we’ll probably be in wifi range of the routers right here in old Central herself. How could we get permed under such circumstances?”

  “Well,” Natasha spoke up, “from what I understand, the hull composition is collapsed matter. That’s going to stop all kinds of electromagnetic radiation more efficiently than a wall of lead.”

  My mouth twitched, but I managed to hold my smile and shake my head. “Such paranoid delusions! Should I call up Graves right now and tell him we can’t go? That we all wet our collective beds last night?”

  “No, sir!” a half-dozen of the more gung-ho types replied. Among my officers, only Adjunct Barton was among this select group. I was beginning to like her personal style. Legion Varus could use more people who were as eager to serve.

  The briefing broke up, as I didn’t have many operational details to provide. The truth was we weren’t sure if we were going to be deployed at all. We’d suit up, stand on the launch pad and be ready to pop into the enemy ship at a moment’s notice. It was the sort of thing we’d drilled for and had lots of practice doing.

  We were given light rations to eat, and after that, we made our way to the teleport rooms. I organized my first squad in harnesses without a lot of heavy gear. They were to jump first, clear any immediate resistance, and cover the rest as they came in hot right behind them.

  Leeson sought me out as I fitted people with harnesses.

  “McGill,” he said, “can I ask you a private question?”

  “Shoot, Adjunct.”

  “How did we draw the short straw on this one? Did you shit on Graves’ lawn again?”

  “Uh… how do you mean? The whole cohort—”

  Leeson began to laugh, shaking his head. “Oh right, sure, we’re going to get a thousand men popped aboard this enemy ship, all wearing their skivvies and ready to fight. Did you notice that we’re pretty far up on the roster? As in: first?”

  My eyes crept over to the scheduling boards. Leeson was right, 3rd Unit topped the list.

  “Hmm…” I said. “Well, that just means he trusts us. We’re some of the most experienced teleport troops Earth has.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s because you keep getting us assigned to crazy-ass stunts like this. And while I’m in a complaining mood, what’s the deal with these harnesses? Aren’t these kind of flimsy? What if the internals on that ship are burning hot or icy cold—or not pressurized with oxygen at all?”

  “Each soldier will be equipped with an emergency oxygen tank, a full-pressure suit, and enough juice in their harnesses for one more port back home.”

  “That’s beautiful,” he said, shaking his head. “They’ll open some kind of bay door into their cargo hold, we’ll pop into a vacuum-filled ice-hole, and get five minutes to shoot our way out.”

  “More like fifteen,” I said, but that didn’t sound good to me either.

  Giving Leeson a hearty slap on the shoulder, I told him I’d toast him in Hell and moved on.

  “We’ll go in by platoons,” I said. “Barton, your lights go first. Next up will be Harris with the heavies, last is Leeson. I’ll be joining Harris.”

  They grumbled, a few prayed, one of the new recruits ev
en puked—but they were all game. I could tell. You didn’t get far in Legion Varus without accepting what you were: fodder for the nearest cannon.

  While we were moving Barton’s nervous team onto the launch pad the ceiling lit up. It transformed into a giant screen.

  Staring upward, it was as if we could look out through hundreds of floors of puff-crete, and through another thousand kilometers of sky and clouds. Space was revealed, with a soft, blue-white glow at every edge of the huge chamber. That was the limits of Earth’s atmosphere.

  The big sphere had finally arrived. We could see it clearly, without telescopes or interpretive graphics.

  It was a moon—but a scarred moon. Smooth white metal in most areas, there were dozens of blast marks. Splotches as big as cities dotted the surface. These revealed the real hull of the monster underneath. It was a black, crusty surface of compressed matter.

  “She’s in orbit, right on top of us,” Natasha said, gaping up at the ceiling in wonderment.

  “It’s Hell’s own angel, come to collect,” Leeson said.

  “It’s way too big,” Harris complained. “It’s just not right.”

  We all stared and gaped at the ceiling. Somehow, until that moment, the enormity of this thing had escaped me.

  A surge of acid burned my guts. A tickle of dread fluttered down there, inside me. I couldn’t help it. Our task seemed beyond suicidal—it was hopeless.

  Recovering, I looked around at my silent troops. Even Moller was staring upward as if the Almighty himself had come to dinner.

  Clapping my hands together with painful force, I made a series of loud booming sounds. They blinked and looked at me.

  “That’s our cue, boys and girls! Time for the fun to begin! First squad, on the launch pad!”

  They wavered for a few seconds, but Barton and Moller recovered fast. They were slapping helmets and kicking asses until the first group was assembled on the raised section of floor.

  Instead of activating each harness one at a time, Central had made advances. They were able to launch a whole group at once if they stood on that pad a few meters apart.