Alien War Trilogy 2: Zeus Read online

  “Good, come see me.”

  As mentioned, Rade had already debriefed the chief fully, so he guessed Facehopper wanted to personally update him on the changed battle space.

  Rade reached the chief’s containerized housing unit shortly thereafter.

  After passing through the airlock, Rade removed his helmet respectfully. The chief sat in front of a tiny worktable, where he was preparing tea of some kind. He was partially suited—his helmet rested on the counter right beside the heating element.

  Other than the table, the only other furniture were the four bunks and their associated lockers—Facehopper shared the unit with Chief Ryerson of Bravo platoon, and two sergeants, none of whom were present at the moment. Like Rade’s own housing unit, a drain in the linoleum floor provided a spot to take a sponge and water bottle shower—or emergency piss.

  “So you made it out of the dollhouse,” Facehopper said after Rade removed his helmet. “How does it feel?”

  “At least I’ll have more space for PT,” Rade said.

  The chief smiled. “That’s the spirit.” His expression grew serious. “So, I was reviewing your written report of your capture. I think we’ve found the woman you mentioned.”

  The mugshot of Corporal Juliette McPherson appeared on Rade’s vision. Her name was highlighted in bold underneath the photo.

  “That’s her,” Rade said. “Though she told me her name was Anne Adara.”

  “Yes, I saw that in your report,” Facehopper said. “It’s her middle name.”

  “Oh.” So she wasn’t lying after all.

  “She’s still MIA.”

  “That’s too bad.” Rade said it as casually as he could, not wanting to betray any interest. He felt bad for having TJ and Bender break into the system; if he had waited a few days, the chief would have told him everything he wanted to know anyway.

  “Hm,” the chief said. “You’d think, given all the time the two of you have spent together, you’d at least show a modicum of concern for her well-being.”

  Rade shrugged. “It’s war, Chief. Soldiers die everyday. Best not to get too attached to people outside your own platoon.”

  Facehopper scrutinized him for several seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he believed him. “All right. So. The reason I called you here is that the Marine cybersecurity division has reported a minor hack of their systems. Someone accessed their roster database. Specifically, the MIA list corresponding to the day you disappeared.”

  “That’s odd,” Rade said.

  “It is, mate. What’s even odder is that the specialists traced the hack to G Quadrant in the base,” Facehopper continued. “The housing units of Alpha Platoon belong to that quadrant, along with Bravo Platoon and two other marine companies. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

  TJ, Bender, you’re losing your touch.

  “No, Chief,” Rade said. “It must have been one of the others.”

  “I know certain members of Alpha like to hack into the starships we find ourselves stationed aboard. I’ve tolerated their behavior in the past. Even encouraged it as a way to hone their skills, and to prod the fleet into patching their systems. That may have been a mistake on my part. Because while it might seem like fun and games to you and them, cyberespionage carries severe charges. Hacking into the databases of the navy is one thing, but hacking into a different military service entirely? Something like that can get the involved parties a dishonorable discharge, Rage. Not to mention prison time. If members of Alpha were involved, and the Marine cybersecurity division ever tracks them down, there’s nothing I or the lieutenant commander can do to protect you. Despite everything you’ve done for us. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  Faechopper regarded him with those hard eyes for several moments.

  Rade felt himself wilting under that gaze. The chief knew he had instigated the hack. Rade was certain of it.

  “Dismissed,” Facehopper said.

  twenty

  The days passed.

  Like the rest of Alpha and Bravo platoons, Rade was randomly assigned to a different Marine company each time he went out. He was granted a new Zeus unit, and he renamed its AI “Sky” in honor of the fallen mech. He managed to tweak the voice and personality settings so that the new AI sounded identical to the old Sky.

  Sometimes he left the mech at the base for repairs, and he joined the other infantry in the house-to-house fighting, or acted as a sniper on overwatch. Other times, when he had his mech, he would lead Marine platoons on exploratory operations, opening up new neighborhoods.

  He didn’t encounter any further swarms of bioengineered creatures, at least not on any of the patrols he went on. That said, the enemy robots were still dug in fairly well in several neighborhoods, and the seemingly few bioengineered beasts that remained acted as support units for them.

  The UC had liberated three-quarters of the city, leaving the enemy with only a fourth. But the foe refused to give up that fourth, no matter how much the artillery and air support softened them up beforehand. The bombs couldn’t be dropped indiscriminately, either—targeting designators were required, and the brass had the final say on whether a drop could proceed. Apparently the senior command was still concerned about civilians that might be trapped in the area.

  While there might have been some validity to that concern, for all the times Rade went out, only once did he recover any civilians—a husband and wife hiding with their two boys in the cellar of a ruined building. They had survived on the wine, apparently. Given how bone-thin they were, wine wasn’t the most life-sustaining drink around.

  The front line moved daily along the enemy quarter; the UC would gain a hundred meters one day, only to lose a hundred and fifty the next. Still, it seemed only a matter of time until the city was completely liberated: the UC had landed troops on the shoulders of the mountains north of the city, and sent more into the tunnels underneath, so that the foe was outflanked on all sides. Even if the enemy had reinforcements hidden somewhere in the countryside, they had no way of deploying them—barring the appearance of another dodecahedron troop transport, of course. But apparently all the nearby mountains had been vetted, and there were no more hidden vessels lurking within those rugged ranges. And the fleet supposedly had a lockdown on all orbital approaches, preventing a surprise attack from that vector.

  Yes, it seemed only a matter of time.

  Once, after a long day of sporadic fighting, Rade returned to base in his mech to find three members of Alpha gathered in the Zeus hangar bay. Wearing their jumpsuits, they were crowded around something in the corner.

  Rade parked his Zeus and dismounted.

  When he approached, he saw that Bomb was using a stun rod to torture what could best be described as a baby kraken while Bender and Fret egged him on.

  “Boss, boss, look what wandered into our hangar!” Bomb said, stabbing at the kraken with the rod. The beast squealed when the high-voltage tip struck its body, and its tentacles flung upward in a starfish pattern. When Bomb finally pulled the rod away, the tentacles collapsed and the creature cowered in the corner once more. “Aww, does it hurt little one?” He stabbed at it again, snarling.

  Rade was reminded of a scene from his childhood, when he had lived in the cruel barrio. A scrawny little dog had approached a group of adults eating weevil-infested bread at a picnic table. The dog begged for crumbs. The adults finished the bread, giving the animal nothing. Then they stood up and quickly surrounding the dog. They took turns kicking it, laughing the whole while. Rade watched helplessly from the sidelines, until they were done with the dog.

  Rade had lied down on the grass beside the poor animal and petted it. He was careful not to touch the fresh wounds. The dog struggled to breathe—blood trickled from its nose and mouth. In later years he realized its lungs had probably collapsed.

  Rade talked to it, tried to comfort the animal. He promised to take it to his hovel and nurse it back to health. “I’m going to make you my
pet,” he told it. “You’re never going to want again.”

  The dog died right there beside him.

  Bomb prodded the kraken again.

  “Give me that,” Rade snatched the rod from Bomb. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Bomb stepped back, seeming suddenly scared. He stuttered some unintelligible response.

  “How did it get in here?” Rade asked, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

  “We think it hitched a ride on one of our units,” Fret answered nervously. “Who knows how long it hid here, wandering around unnoticed? We found it stowing away in a cabinet near the refueling station.”

  “All right, well, it’s obviously a baby,” Rade said. “Don’t any of you have any decency? Back away, give it some breathing room. Fret, call in a containment unit.”

  They started to move back, but then a plume of smoke erupted from the beast’s side—the sign of a laser impact. The beast leaped straight up into the air, like a cat spooked by a snake. It hit the ground running, using its tentacles to limp past them at a furious pace.

  “Hey!” Fret tried to catch it, but missed.

  The baby moved impossibly fast toward the hangar door.

  Bomb drew a blaster.

  Rade grabbed his wrist and shook his head.

  Bomb lowered the weapon.

  Another plume of smoke appeared as another laser struck the baby. The creature collapsed.

  “Who’s firing, damn it?” Rade scanned the hangar.

  Facehopper stepped into view from where he had been standing behind one of the mechs.

  “You asked if we have decency?” the chief said. “I’ll tell you something about decency. Bomb and I were on patrol today. We’d found our first civilians. Or rather, their bodies. A mother and her baby. Their bodies were crushed. The baby’s head was cracked open, the brain tissue eaten by one of these things, or its ilk. Seems to be a delicacy among our enemy. So don’t lecture the platoon on decency. Because our enemy has none.” Facehopper sighed audibly over the comm. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re better than them. We’re above the evil acts that they do. And while that may be true, we can’t afford to show the enemy mercy. Not any of them. If we had let this thing go, baby or not, someday when it matured it would have killed someone. Hell, it could have killed someone right out there while it fled the base. It’s either us or them, Rage. We’re not going to coexist, not in this galaxy.”

  With a heavy heart Rade journeyed to the mess hall later that evening. Roughly half the platoon was missing at supper, with men still out on patrol with various Marine companies. For those present, morale seemed at an all-time low, despite the fact that their side was apparently winning. The normal banter was replaced with weary numbness. Sure, the usual suspects exchanged a few barbs, and the occasional crass joke was made, but for the most part they ate mechanically.

  The Marine platoons fared just as poorly, judging from the relatively subdued atmosphere overall in the mess hall. Most of the soldiers ate quietly at their tables, not saying a word to anyone else. They were obviously exhausted.

  “It’s times like these,” Manic said. “Where it really sucks to be a MOTH.”

  “But it always sucks to be you,” Bender said, in an admirable attempt to bait him.

  Manic didn’t bother to respond.

  They finished their meals, returned to their housing units, and dropped into their bunks.

  The coming days proved little better. The funny thing was, Rade was actually becoming accustomed to the grueling schedule. Get up. Perform perfunctory PT. Eat. Fight all day. Return to the FOB late. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

  Upon reflection, accustomed probably wasn’t the right word. Resigned was more how he felt.

  He thought of Adara on occasion, wondering what had happened to her out there. Had she turned into one of those bioengineered creatures, like some members of his platoon suspected happened to the MIAs? Or had she become more like Lieutenant Vicks, someone who was only half human. Or perhaps he had rescued her in time, before the strange Weavers could inject nano-machines into her brain. If so, maybe she was surviving out there in the buried ruins of some hydroponics factory or other food store. It was a pleasant thought, but altogether false, he was sure. The likeliest answer was that she was dead, in one way or another.

  And then he received a message.

  It was the fifth night since he had returned to duty. He had just finished supper, and was lying on his bunk in the housing unit, transcribing his report for the day.

  His messenger flashed.

  “Hey.”

  The sender showed up on his aReal as one Corporal McPherson. Adara.

  “Very funny,” Rade sent back, letting his aReal transcribe his words. “Is that you, Tahoe?” Manic lay on another bunk nearby, apparently sleeping, while Lui and Tahoe were still out in the city.

  “No, it’s me,” came the response. “Adara. I was finally picked up a few days ago.”

  Rade sat up so fast he nearly hit his head on the overhead bunk. He activated his noise canceler and disabled aReal logging.

  “What the hell happened back there?” Rade asked. “Why didn’t you surrender with me?”

  “After you’d gone, I got spooked. So I hid in a nearby house. Let’s just say, my psychological state was a bit delicate at the time.”

  “Where are you now?” he sent. “In decon?”

  “No. I finished serving my time yesterday morning. I’m on my way back from my first mission since returning.”

  “I see,” he replied. “So you’re completely fine then?”

  “Completely. The warden gave me a clean bill of health.”

  Rade found that somewhat surprising. Guess I was wrong about her. “Oh. Okay. Well, welcome back. Corporal Juliette McPherson.” He hoped the aReal transcribed the emphasis he’d placed on her enlistment name. Probably not.

  “Yes, well, I prefer Adara. It’s my middle name.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Rade replied.

  “Been checking up on me, have you? That’s sweet.”

  “Try not to be too sarcastic or anything,” Rade sent.

  “Sorry, it’s my nature.” There was a pause, then the next message read: “I’d like to see you tonight. I want to tell you something.”

  “That’s probably not a good idea,” Rade messaged. “Just tell me now.”

  “It’s not really something I can talk about over the air.”

  Rade sighed. “I don’t know,” he sent. “I’m kind of busy.”

  “All right,” came the reply.

  “I was expecting a little bit more fight from you,” Rade sent.

  She didn’t answer.

  Do I really want to see her?

  “What time were you thinking?” Rade sent.

  “Zero two hours.”

  It seemed obvious she wanted to have a sexual rendezvous. Why else would she want to meet at two in the morning standard time? Wait, the planet had a twenty-eight hour day. It might not actually be dark at that time. He checked the day-night schedule on his aReal. Yep, definitely dark.

  “You want to meet in the middle of the night?” Rade sent.

  “Yes.”

  He should have said no. But the thought of holding that tight little body in his arms again...

  No. I’m not going to sleep with her.

  “All right,” he found himself saying. “Did you have a place in mind? Or do you want me to ferret one out?”

  She sent the coordinates. It was some storage unit out near the perimeter. It had an airlock.

  She definitely wanted to have sex.

  “See you at oh two hundred,” he replied. His voice had suddenly developed a rasp, and he had to manually correct a few of the words the aReal incorrectly transcribed.

  After she disconnected, he lay back on his bunk, thinking about what he would do to her that night.

  Well, at least I have something to look forward to each day. Like when Shaw and I used to meet aboard the Royal Fortune way
back when. Good times.

  Shaw. He felt a surge of guilt when he thought about her. He tried to convince himself what they had was over, that she was banging out the brains of some commander or captain at that very moment, but he failed miserably. He almost sent Adara a message canceling their late-night rendezvous, but at the last moment deleted the message.

  I’ll listen to what she has to say, then I’ll leave.

  And he nearly believed it.

  He still had some lingering doubts and unanswered questions about her. The biggest being: how did she survive out there on her own for three days? The obvious answer was that, well, she was a Marine, just as resourceful as she was dangerous.

  He considered having TJ or Bender hack into the Marine database once more so he could corroborate her story, but he decided against it. The chief only needed to warn him once about hacking the roster. He supposed he could’ve asked the chief directly about it, or had Tahoe or someone make the inquiry for him, but he didn’t want to draw Facehopper’s attention. If the chief suspected anything, he could very easily place a few Centurions on watch in front of Rade’s shared housing unit, making any comings and goings at night difficult, if not impossible.

  Do I really need to corroborate her story? She’s obviously back. I’m being too suspicious.

  And yes, he was probably going to have sex with her that night.

  twenty-one

  At two hundred hours standard time, Rade loitered outside the designated storage unit near the outskirts of the base.

  The three-meter tall perimeter wall towered above him, blocking out most of the orange-hued sky. A fire raged in the wooded parks of the northern quarter of the city, giving the night an unnatural glow. The slight increase in brightness didn’t bother Rade in the least, as he was far more concerned with showing up on the thermal band utilized by the Centurions patrolling the walkways above.

  He had left his aReal goggles at the housing unit and disabled the comm node in his helmet so he wouldn’t show up on any of the mapping software both the humans and robots used. He had kept strictly to the shadows, using his stealth training to elude the night patrols. It was no more difficult than avoiding the patrols of the enemy. Sneaking away from his men had been relatively easy as well: he’d placed a vocoder unit in his bunk to imitate his nightly breathing, and set up a few noise cancelers around the inner hatch of the airlock to mute the sound of it opening and closing. Worked like a charm.