Machine World Read online

“Settle down, Johnson,” said Harris. “You’ll get your chance.”

  Johnson never even looked at Harris. He kept eyeing me instead. “You know what would make me happy, McGill?”

  I glanced down at his hands. Sure enough, one of his two gloves looked half-empty. I realized then that he’d drawn the short straw a second time while dealing with me.

  “Let me guess,” I said, “a couple of extra fingers?”

  He threw a punch at me, which I ducked. He caught a little bit of my left ear, but it was no big deal.

  Harris was between us instantly. He pushed us apart and shoved his face into each of ours.

  “We’re doing this one by the book,” he said. “You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Vet,” I said. My eyes never left Johnson’s. We stared each other down for about two more seconds before backing off.

  “McGill?” Harris asked in a sarcastic tone. “Would you mind going over there and standing with the rest of the candidates?”

  I did as he asked. Moments later, the veterans slashed their captives free. I looked from one face to the next in the starlight. Two of them I recognized. One was none other than Weaponeer Sargon. The other was a short stocky woman built like a fireplug. She was from 1st Platoon, but I couldn’t remember her name.

  “Here’s the deal,” Harris said. “All of you have been advanced to candidacy, but only one of you will be given the promotion. As the existing veterans of third unit, it’s our job to watch and judge this contest. Your boundaries are the walls of this canyon. Do not exit the boundaries. To do so will result in immediate disqualification.”

  As he spoke, I began to frown. It was dawning on me that this was some kind of arena-combat scenario. The other candidates were already eyeing each other and separating. I took this time to examine my surroundings more closely.

  We stood on a beach that was only about ten meters wide. The canyon was circular and about hundred meters across. The walls were quite forbidding. They were sheer and vertical. The only easy path out of the canyon was the foot trail we’d come down on, which wound its way up along the walls and under a waterfall at the far end.

  I’d gone swimming down here a number of times in the small, cool, deep lake that formed the center of the canyon.

  “Oh,” Harris said, “one more thing. McGill? Would you be so kind as to give me your weapon?”

  “You mean my knife?”

  “Exactly.”

  I drew it out, flipped the blade so that I held the tip and flicked it at him. He flinched, but didn’t jump out of the way. The blade stuck in the sand between his boots.

  Smiling grimly, Harris picked up my knife. “The last man—or woman—who’s left alive in this canyon tonight is a veteran. That’s it, no more rules. Go!”

  The fireplug-woman moved first. She caught Sargon by one foot and pulled backwards. He went down on his face, growling. A thin, rat-faced man joined her. Together, they dragged Sargon out into the water.

  I thought about intervening, but I didn’t have time to see how that struggle ended. Something hit me, blindsiding me, knocking me back into the water.

  A dark figure loomed over me outlined by the stars. He had a big rock in both hands, and a snarl on his face. I fought to get my hands in between that rock and my skull. He still managed to deliver a glancing blow, and I could feel the blood leaking out of my scalp.

  The veterans were cheering. They called out encouragement, catcalls, and slammed their hands together in applause when someone landed a hard blow.

  The guy with the rock kept coming after me. Feeling a little dazed, I decided to disengage. I swam away with long strokes toward the center of the lake.

  The guy with the rock didn’t follow. Instead, he ran off toward the foliage along the shoreline.

  The fireplug-woman with her rat-faced companion managed to drown Sargon. There was nothing I could do, and it made me angry.

  They’d teamed up, plain as day. That seemed unfair. I could only wonder if they’d known ahead of time how this trial was going to go. I hadn’t seen them talk or negotiate anything in the canyon. I could only surmise that they’d been in cahoots from the start.

  “Well played, well played,” Harris said, talking to the fireplug and her sidekick. “I feel compelled to reward success.”

  So saying, he produced my combat knife and tossed it at the feet of the woman.

  Both she and her partner lunged for the knife. I treaded water, watching.

  “What’s this?” Harris chuckled. “Treachery? So soon?”

  The stout woman had landed on the knife first with rat-face on her back a fraction of a second later. Four hands clamped onto the hilt of one knife. They rolled, grunting, but in the end, the rat found his throat slashed and the woman stood over him panting.

  More applause, appreciative shouts.

  “Come on McGill!” Johnson shouted at me. “Quit hiding out there in the lake!”

  I turned and swam for the waterfall.

  “Well now,” Harris said, “that’s just plain cowardice, McGill.”

  Harris drew his sidearm, an old gunpowder weapon, and shook all the cartridges out of the gun except for one. He threw the weapon at the guy who’d hit me with the rock. “Here, catch!”

  Any of my teachers from Atlanta’s primary education system could have told you years back that I’d never been the most attentive student. But even I, when faced with overwhelming evidence, can figure out where the cards lay.

  These veterans had no intention of letting me win this contest. In fact, it looked to me like they were going to cheat if they had to. No matter what, I was destined to lose. They’d probably set up the fireplug and her rat-buddy to nail Sargon right off, so I wouldn’t have anyone to team with.

  Seeing that there was a gun in play, the fireplug lady ran off around the lake to the far side. Grinning, the dark complected squatty-looking man with Harris’ gun circled the other way. I could tell he wasn’t interested in taking his single shot at long range. He wanted to get in close and make sure of a kill. Both of them headed toward the waterfall on opposites sides of the lake.

  I came up under the waterfall breathing hard. I could see two figures approaching through the mist, one from either direction. This gave me an idea. If they could cheat, why couldn’t I?

  I dove, swimming deep into the cold water. I took long sweeping strokes. I was well below the surface. Each pumping motion of my arms and legs took me back toward the shoreline where this had all started.

  When I surfaced, gasping, it was just in time to hear a shot crack the air. The veterans whooped. They were standing knee-deep in the lake around me.

  I stood up in the water. Johnson was the man nearest to me. His luck was consistent.

  “What the hell—?” he shouted. “McGill? All you do is run from every fight. You have to be the biggest chicken—”

  That was as far as he got. I stepped up to him, pulled his sidearm out of his holster and aimed over his shoulder. I shot Veteran Gonzales, who had just turned in our direction to see what the fuss was about. My surprised target went down on his face with a loud splash. The back of his skull was gone.

  Johnson began struggling with me, but as he was missing a finger or two he couldn’t stop my hand from bringing his gun around and placing the muzzle against his chest.

  Boom!

  I don’t think Johnson could believe his bad luck right to the end. He stared up at me as he was dying, even after the lake water covered his face.

  Harris slammed into me a moment later. The pistol flew out of my grasp. We traded blows for two long seconds. I knew the game might be up. I was getting tired, and my head injury from the guy with the rock was throbbing. Hell, I’d have been lucky to beat Harris one-on-one when I was fresh.

  Harris snatched the fallen gun out of the water. He aimed it at me, his sides heaving with exertion.

  “God dammit!” Harris roared. “How is it, McGill, that the every time—?”

  Harris made a choking
sound. I saw the squatty little guy who’d smashed me with rock minutes ago. He’d snuck up behind Harris and rammed my knife home. He must’ve taken it from the woman candidate after having shot her.

  Not to be taken out so easily, Harris turned, ripped the knife out of his own back, and ran down his attacker with it. I followed at a safe distance to watch what transpired with morbid curiosity.

  Harris cut the man to ribbons with my knife. All the while, he bled profusely and released a steady stream of profanity.

  Harris turned to face me at last. His sides were heaving, and his body was slick with sweat and blood.

  “Whatever possessed you to attack your superiors yet again, McGill?” he asked me in a hoarse voice. “You have to know you’re disqualified now.”

  “Well Vet,” I said, “I guess I just didn’t understand this contest from the beginning.”

  Harris began laughing. It was a hitching, gasping, gargling sound. He shook his head and sighed. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that boy?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  Harris slumped forward. He looked surprised, like he was going to vomit or something. Then he slipped onto his face in the water. A few last bubbling, bloody snorts came out of him—then he died. It was blood loss that done the trick, if I had to guess.

  Uncertain as to where this left matters, I retrieved my knife, wiped it clean, and walked up the path.

  When I got the top I was met by four officers. Centurion Graves, Adjunct Leeson, Adjunct Toro, and Adjunct Mesa were all standing up there together. I realized they must have watched the trial from the edge of the cliff surrounding the canyon.

  Swaying a bit, I saluted the group.

  “Specialist McGill reporting, sirs.”

  “Don’t you mean Veteran McGill?” asked Adjunct Leeson.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Adjunct Toro snapped, her face was red and her teeth were clenched in anger. “McGill didn’t follow instructions.”

  “Hell,” Leeson said, “he never does that.”

  “Well, I vote that he be disqualified,” Toro said. She’d never liked me much, so I wasn’t surprised.

  Graves turned toward the last adjunct. “What do you think, Mesa?”

  Mesa looked me over like he smelled bad meat. “I don’t think I want this man as a veteran in our unit,” he said.

  My heart sank, but I stood there, resolute. If they were going to kick me back to specialist, I wasn’t going to cry and whine about it. Sure, the game had been rigged. There’d been no way I could win outright with the vets distributing weapons to the other contestants. But complaints weren’t going to convince anyone to change their verdict.

  Graves shook his head thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to overrule the majority of my adjuncts in this instance,” he said. “For me, the deciding factor came to light when the last candidate attacked Harris. It was apparent through that action that he believed the fight to the death announced by Harris included the veterans themselves.”

  “Not so,” Adjunct Toro piped up again, “all that proves is that McGill’s bizarre actions confused everyone.”

  Graves shrugged. “You’ve got a valid complaint. But the fact is, and you can check the vid recordings to back this up, Harris did say the last man to walk out of that canyon alive would be a veteran. He did not specify that the veterans themselves were not participants. I don’t think any of you can argue that McGill isn’t the last man standing.”

  The two who voted against me grumbled but didn’t say anything else.

  “McGill?” Graves asked, turning to me. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

  “Well sir,” I said, “you described the situation pretty well. Harris inserted himself into the contest when he began to distribute weapons at random to the candidates. At least, that’s how I saw it.”

  Graves nodded. “Very well. As far as I’m concerned, you’re our newest man with the honorable rank of veteran. Congratulations.”

  He reached out a gloved hand, and I shook it.

  Just like that, I’d achieved a new rank. I knew there would be no love lost between Harris, myself, and the rest of the noncoms, but I didn’t much care. They’d never been too sweet on me to begin with.

  -10-

  I found my new rank to be a little bit daunting. Sure, I was far from a rookie, but I knew there were soldiers with more experience than I had in this unit. They looked at me with a strange mixture of jealousy, curiosity and maybe, just maybe, a hint of respect.

  It was that last item on the list that worried me. I had to earn that respect in order to keep it. I had to prove myself worthy of it. Yes, I’d pulled a fast one during a simulated battle with the dragons from Dust World, but that was a far cry from leading a squad throughout a campaign on an unknown planet.

  One of the nice things about my new position was the command structure the auxiliary cohort had embraced. Rather than being made up of infantry with units led by centurions with the strength of one hundred twenty men each, Winslade’s cohort was more limited in size. We were considered to be cavalry. Each squad was led by a veteran, like me. The squads were broken up into two maniples of five troops each, just like the Roman cavalry of ancient times. One of the maniples was led by a specialist, making him second in command, while the other was led by the veteran directly. That meant each squad was made up of an even dozen riders and their dragons. The specialists placed in charge of a maniple were mostly weaponeers, but there were also a number of bios and techs in the mix.

  Because all of us were outfitted with large, walking, fighting machines, we didn’t have as much need for our traditional infantry-oriented roles. I was a little sorrowful I wasn’t going to be carrying a belcher into battle this time, but I got over it quickly the more I worked with the dragons. They were quite obviously superior weapons systems.

  Harris took the other squad in our platoon, and Leeson commanded above him. Although I was effectively just one more trooper piloting a dragon, the difference this time was I’d been placed in charge of eleven other guys riding along behind me.

  A little over a third of the infantry who tried out qualified on the dragons, and I was proud to note that almost everyone in 3rd Unit had survived the winnowing process. That was due in large part to our success with the initiation trials on the rooftop battlefield. Most units had been slaughtered. In fact, my group was given the grim task of annihilating the last units to come over from Minotaur to kick off their training. I wasn’t proud of it, and the butchery was intense, but I had to admit afterward that it was a valuable lesson to both sides. No trooper could fail to appreciate the power of a dragon after being killed by one. The pilots working the controls were undeniably impressed as well.

  The troops that performed badly during the training exercises were sent back to Minotaur to fill out other ranks as needed. Once we were down to the best of the best, the training commenced in earnest. During a period of about three weeks, we trained hard every day. In all that time Veteran Harris never spoke to me. In fact, he did his damnedest not to even look at me.

  I understood. After all, I’d made a fool out of him and the other veterans in my unit. That wouldn’t sit well with anyone.

  Della and I had had lunch together a few times over the weeks following our first encounter, but I’d made sure things didn’t go any further than that. If she was married, I was determined to respect her vows—even if she didn’t.

  During my fourth week aboard Cyclops, the brass announced that the target star system was now easy to see with the naked eye directly ahead of our three ships. This wasn’t exactly true, as we were in a warp bubble and vision was interpolated, but it was still an exciting change.

  Going up to the observation deck the night before we arrived at Gamma Pavonis, I sat quietly with many others and watched the white star grow fractionally larger every hour. Kivi joined me that night as I maintained my vigil.

  “James?” she asked. “Are you up here by yourself?”

/>   I made a vague, waving gesture toward the numerous couples that surrounded us. It seems the observation deck on any warship tended to attract people who wanted romance if not privacy. They lined the walls up against the curving hull because the couches arrayed there were darker than those in the center. That left me with a big central couch.

  “I’m hardly by myself,” I said, smiling.

  Kivi smiled back. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t seem to be as popular with the ladies this time out.”

  Kivi cocked her head and looked at me curiously. “That’s not what I hear.”

  I shrugged. I turned to examine the white star again. Was it a pixel or two larger now? Maybe.

  “Depression?” Kivi asked. “Can this be for real?”

  Chuckling quietly, I shook my head. “I’d hardly call it that. Can’t a man question his place in the universe without people thinking there’s something wrong with him?”

  “No, they can’t. At least, not in your case. Other people can be self-possessed and introspective—but not James McGill. I have to admit I’m curious as to the cause of your unprecedented mood. Let me guess, it has something to do with Natasha and Della. Am I right?”

  “Maybe.”

  Kivi climbed onto my couch without asking. She scooted across it until she bumped her hip into mine.

  “Oh yes,” she said, “the view from here is much better. Now, tell an old girlfriend what this is all about.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “Then I’ll have to guess.”

  I shrugged. “Go for it.”

  “Okay. Let’s see… Natasha always has believed deep down that you’re her private property. And Della…well, that girl is just plain crazy. I can see plenty of ways that a man might get caught between those two and yet shut out by both.”

  I liked Kivi, and I liked how she felt all warm and vital laying there next to me. But her words were starting to make me feel a little uncomfortable. I squirmed a bit. I couldn’t help it.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “The McGill I know would’ve grabbed me by now. Oh my God…”