With Your Shield Read online

  One by one, the canopies opened as the troopers climbed out of their mechs and removed their helmets, gathering around Lieutenant Quinn without a word. Each of them was obviously already replaying the scenario in their heads, thinking about what they could have done differently. Irish frowned deeply, kicking himself for making assumptions about the landing zone. Quinn glanced over as Private Walker finally emerged from her CASPer.

  “What in the fuck was that!?” she said before her feet hit the ground.

  Irish turned around. “That’s enough, Walker. Shut up and listen.”

  “Like hell I will! How am I supposed to go into combat with my cockpit digging into my—”

  Irish, who rarely raised his voice, did. “I said shut up, Private!” His typically light skin, courtesy of his Irish heritage, flushed red. His voice echoed off the bulkheads of the room.

  Walker froze, her mouth agape, and glanced between Irish and Quinn. “Who the fuck do—”

  Quinn interrupted her and spoke in a cold, level voice. “That will be enough from you, Private. I suggest you head back to your bunk and remain there until further notice. The next time you leave your bunk you will be in front of a review board with the Major, where we will determine your future with the Golden Horde.”

  She shook her head as if to clear cobwebs. “But it was my mech! It didn’t—”

  It was Quinn’s turn to raise his voice. “I said that’s enough!” He pointed to the door. “Go.”

  Specialist Volk, who had come to address the configuration problem, scratched her head, shrugged, and headed for the CASPer to fix it anyway.

  The squad shifted awkwardly on their feet as Walker finally left and slammed the door behind her. Irish cleared his throat. “If I may, sir?”

  Quinn took a deep breath, visibly getting himself back under control. “Go ahead, Irish.”

  “First, I’d have to ask why a fly-by sweep wasn’t done before we landed…before we started the sim landing.”

  Quinn nodded. “I was hoping you’d ask that. Good man. Let’s say it did, but its sensors didn’t detect anything.”

  Irish was confused, he shook his head. “But dropship sensors are good enough to pick up anything, including life forms like Besquith, even if they’re under cover.”

  “True, but what if they had a way of blocking or jamming them?”

  Irish pursed his lips, and Dusty spoke up. “Do they, sir?”

  Quinn nodded. “We’ve seen it before, Sergeant.”

  Irish took over. “When, sir?”

  “A little over a year ago on a contract, and it was used by Besquith.”

  The entire squad nodded, understanding.

  “Overall, what is your assessment, Staff Sergeant?”

  Irish, who rarely spoke without considering what he was about to say, thought for a moment. “Based on the situation, I’d say the squad, with one obvious glaring exception, performed well, sir. First team did exactly what they were supposed to do in that situation. The rocket saturation looked good. Second team’s jump was also good, but their points of impact could have been better coordinated so ammunition wasn’t wasted. I also shouldn’t have wasted the MAC ammo when I had no target. I let adrenaline get the best of me.”

  He continued after a moment. “Private Stafford, in particular, impressed me, sir.” He paused to look over and give her a nod of approval. “She could have landed and attempted to engage the second emplaced gun from the ground, or jumped a second time, which might have been a safer choice, but her action guaranteed that the weapon would be disabled. I wasn’t in a position to see second team’s actions after I was killed, sir.”

  Quinn nodded. “Moh?”

  “I think perhaps we should have spread out a bit more. We stayed close together, which is SOP for that kind of engagement, but it obviously didn’t work. Maybe alternated our jumps and given them more and varying targets to choose from, rather than being in a nice line for them.”

  Everyone nodded, Quinn included. “Fair assessment. I’m not saying every scenario is going to be this nasty. But it might be. Being up against crew-served weapons on an initial drop absolutely sucks.”

  “We survived,” Irish said. “But we lost too many people. I know that was our first run of the day, and we had a weak link, but that missing CASPer could just have easily been a mechanical malfunction, or an ambush as soon as the dropship dropped the ramp, so that’s no excuse.”

  “Alright folks,” Quinn said. “Everyone take 30, grab some quick chow, and come back here. Staff Sergeant, stay behind, we need to talk.”

  Everyone but Irish saluted and turned to leave once Quinn returned it. When they had all left the room and closed the door behind them, Quinn turned to face Irish. “You don’t have to tell me. There’s no way we can put her on the planet in a CASPer with that attitude. Unfortunately, that’ll leave you one down in your squad, and her actions, while insubordinate...” He left the rest unsaid and shrugged.

  “I have confidence that my squad can cover just fine sir, but…”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Speak up, Staff Sergeant.”

  “What about Spartan, sir?”

  Quinn shook his head. “We can ask him…but he’s pretty busy on his own project right now. Not to mention…”

  “Is there something I need to know, sir?”

  “You remember I said we’d seen that trick before, where we didn’t detect Besquith because our sensors didn’t see them?”

  Irish nodded.

  Quinn spoke quietly. “Look, I really don’t like talking about this—it’s not my story—but it was Spartan’s squad. He was the only survivor. He took a hit but survived, though he was knocked out cold for most of the engagement. A second squad went to assist, but they were all lost as well. He transferred to intel after that, by choice. I wanted him back in a CASPer…he’s one hell of a trooper.”

  Irish muttered. “Shit.”

  “Exactly. Like I said, we can ask him, but I don’t think he’ll want to be on standard combat patrols.”

  Irish shook his head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t even want to ask, knowing that. If he’s the kind of man I’ve heard about, he may well feel like he has to.”

  Quinn nodded. “Very perceptive. Now, go grab yourself some chow and get back here. We have the whole rest of the day to drill.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Horde Transport Ship EMS War Pony, Hyperspace

  With one day left until the War Pony emerged from hyperspace, Markus’ full team gathered in the hangar with the experimental CASPer. As he looked around, he noted that the mech had its armor completely reattached, although he wasn’t sure about the chest armor and canopy, because that area was covered by a tarp.

  Markus scratched his head. “Okay, I’ll ask. What’s up with the tarp?”

  Hobo smiled. “Oh, just a little modification I had made for you, since you’ll be the only person crazy enough to actually get into this thing.”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Okay then, get on with it.”

  Every member of the team glanced at each other. Apparently, they all knew what was there, and Markus was the only one in the dark.

  Hobo walked over to the CASPer and tugged on the tarp, causing it to drift to the ground. The tarp falling was the only sound in the normally loud area. Markus inhaled when he saw what Hobo had done. Painted on the front of the CASPer was an ancient Spartan helmet profile surrounded by a circle, with words written around the top edge. ‘With Your Shield or On It.’ Markus swallowed hard and found himself speechless. Without even thinking, he walked over to the CASPer and ran his fingers over the canopy where he could reach. Few knew he was called Spartan because his lineage traced back to the ancient Spartan warriors. Fewer knew that quote, he imagined. Back then, it was a saying used by the mothers of Spartan warriors. It was preferred they came back on their shields, dead, rather than returning alive without them, which meant they were cowards and had run.

  Hobo spoke, uncharacte
ristically softly for him. “I know it’ll be your first time back in the field…and, well, I also know what the saying actually meant. It took a while searching the Net, but I found it. Obviously, we don’t want you to not come back. The way I figure it…this new mech design is kinda like a shield for us folks back at the base, and the other CASPers you’re out with. Frankly, we’d like them all to come back with the shield. You.”

  Volk cleared her throat. “We’ve also come up with a designation for this particular CASPer, if you approve.”

  Markus looked at her, unable to speak.

  “Hoplite.”

  Markus nodded and cleared his throat, though he still sounded a bit froggy. “Approved.”

  Hobo clapped, followed by Volk, and eventually the entire team joined in.

  Markus swallowed again, trying to hide the fact that he had to wipe a tear from his eye. The team took that as a cue and moved off to their stations. All but Hobo and Volk, who walked up to join him at the CASPer.

  Volk spoke quietly. “There’s one more thing, Spartan. No one else knows about it…”

  Markus glanced at her and raised an eyebrow.

  She walked around to the storage compartment that was built into the leg of every CASPer and popped the door open. Markus and Hobo followed. She pointed at the inside of the door. On the door were the names, and where applicable, callsigns, of every trooper he’d lost in the ambush he was working to make sure never happened again. “They’ll always be with you, Spartan. We can take it off if you want…”

  Markus shook his head and whispered, “It’s fine…thanks. I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the hangar to the conference room next door and closed the door behind him.

  He sat and took several deep breaths. After he lost all those troopers, he got angry, upset, and frustrated, but never sad. Death was a part of being a merc, but he had never accepted it. He had never accepted that it was okay those people had died. He’d gotten beyond blaming himself. He’d reviewed the reports and the recovered footage enough to know it wouldn’t have mattered who was in his seat; the same thing would have happened.

  * * *

  Back in the hangar, Volk and Hobo exchanged glances. “That might have been too much,” she said as she looked at the engraved names.

  Hobo shook his head. “He’s just never really dealt with it. He’s a trooper, through and through. Always has been, and always will be. Death is a part of what he does; he knows that. Even though he didn’t get back into a CASPer, he stayed the course and stuck with the company. There’s lots of people who can’t even do that. Lots end up getting killed on their next contract because they refuse to admit they lost their edge. Spartan…I don’t think he ever lost his edge. He just didn’t want to face combat and take that responsibility.”

  Volk nodded. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.”

  Hobo smiled. “Get back to work, Specialist. Let’s be ready to show him your shoulder-mounted monstrosity when he gets back.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed over to her work station to make sure everything was ready.

  Hobo spoke up so everyone could hear. “Okay, everyone. Feely time is over. Be ready to show Spartan what you’ve got ready for him when he gets back!”

  Specialist Kawa climbed up a gantry and double-checked the attachments for the MAC on the shoulder of the CASPer and the mounting bracket awaiting the crate modification. Specialist Burke started laying out a few dragonfly drones to be used for testing with Markus’ new code and made sure the small communications laser was primed and ready. Hobo grabbed a slate and opened the canopy of the CASPer, making the cockpit ready, then got the wires that were hooked to the mech’s computer system ready for Markus to hook into. The rest of the crew busied themselves with organizing and making sure everything was clear in case Markus wanted to move the CASPer a few steps for testing.

  * * *

  As if on cue, Markus came back into the hangar with his slate in hand. “Okay folks…let’s see what we have to work with. Let’s start with the drones. You have the dragonflies ready, Specialist Burke?”

  “Yes, sir.” She gestured to three dragonfly drones on her workstation.

  He nodded and walked over to the workbench. He picked up one of the dragonflies and turned it over, holding it under a high-power magnifying glass to get the serial number for that specific drone. He tapped it into the synching program on his slate and pushed the new software to the drone before setting it back down on the table.

  “Well, here’s hoping I didn’t brick it.”

  He tapped a button on his slate’s display, and the drone came to life, wings flapping until it took off and hovered about a foot off the table.

  Burke and her team let out a collective breath. “Wow, sir. We didn’t know how you were going to get past the startup.”

  Markus grimaced. “Well, it’s a bit of a hack for now, and it needs to be refined. The real problem is I can’t figure out how to update lots of drones with the new software all at once; they have to be done one by one.”

  Burke nodded.

  “Okay, let’s test out the laser detection…fire up the comms laser.”

  A member of Burke’s team gave the thumbs up, and Markus programmed a search pattern into the drone via his slate. A few seconds later, the drone moved in a circular pattern, until it finally passed through the communications laser. There was a spike on Markus’ slate, which indicated it had detected the signal. Unfortunately, the drone also stopped flapping its wings, and fell to the table.

  Markus sighed. “Well, the good news is it detected the signal and transmitted the detection. The bad news is that I’ve obviously got a problem somewhere in the detection subroutine.”

  Burke seemed excited. “But you proved it can be done! The dragonfly can do what you want it to do!”

  Her entire team looked impressed.

  “Well, I suppose that’s true. Still…there’s more work to do there.”

  “Sir, you did that in a few days. You have whatever time we spend in-system and then another jump to figure it out.”

  Markus nodded. “That’s true. Thanks, Keana.”

  Markus turned and headed over to Volk’s work station, still a bit dejected about the dragonfly failure. “Okay, Steph, what do we have for the deployment mechanism?”

  She smiled up at him and gestured to the crate on the table. “That’s about it! All the hinges have been replaced with explosive bolts, and there’s one on the catch in the front as well. They’re theoretically strong enough to blow the cover off—even if the crate is laying on its lid—so the dragonflies can escape. There’s always the chance some will get damaged, of course, but it should still give you a large number to use.”

  “How many?” Markus raised an eyebrow.

  She shrugged. “We don’t know. We only have about ten to test with. Honestly, they’re not something we have in huge numbers.”

  Markus nodded. “I don’t suppose we have what we need on board to make more?”

  Volk shrugged, but Burke spoke up from behind Markus. “It’s possible; we haven’t checked on that yet. We figured you’d want to get the software nailed down, then if we can produce more, we can have the software pre-programmed into them. Honestly, though, I have to say I doubt it.”

  “Makes sense. Burke, check with Major Enkh in intel; she can tell you if it’s possible, I’m sure.”

  Burke nodded.

  “Okay, go on, Steph.”

  She turned the crate back on its back side. “On the bottom, we’ve got a stable mounting system that will fit on the rail just like any other shoulder-mounted system. The difference is that it’s a breakaway system.”

  She indicated a few points on the mounting hardware. “These points are designed a bit weaker than the rest, so that if the shoulder-mounted system cycles up, the crate will break off and fall out of the way…theoretically.”

  “I’m assuming these…theoretical…items are things we can’t or shouldn’
t test on the ship?”

  She nodded. “You got it.”

  Markus grimaced. “So basically, the biggest piece of what we want to do is something we can’t test until we’re planet-side?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose we could pass it up the chain to Captain Cole and see what he thinks?”

  Markus considered and rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure who we’d talk to about that, but I’d like to get as much of the experimenting done while we’re in transit as we can. Let me think on that a bit.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay…” Markus turned toward the CASPer, its cockpit open and waiting. He saw the leads coming out, ready for the software update. “Let’s do the big part.”

  As he headed over, he noticed two new faces standing behind Specialist Kawa, who snapped to attention and saluted. “We have new team members, Specialist?”

  Kawa shook his head. “No, sir. They’ve been working on the project from the software side, so they didn’t need to be in here. They’ve reviewed your code updates and checked for obvious problems and didn’t see any. Just to be safe, we do have a kill switch hooked to the mech so that we can shut it down without delay, just in case.”

  Markus nodded and held out his slate. “Okay, I’ll leave this part to the experts.”

  Kawa grinned and nodded to the woman on his left. “Go ahead, Kiara.”

  The woman took Markus’ slate with a nod and hooked it to the control panel in front of her, which was hooked into the CASPer. She was the vision of pure focus as she tapped the slate a few times and then looked up at the CASPer. “Should only take a few minutes.”

  Markus nodded and waited as patiently as he could. “What’s our worst case here when we power it up?”

  Kawa looked at him. “The power plant overloads and blows us all up.”

  Markus shook his head. “No time for jokes, Specialist.”

  “Not joking, sir. You asked the worst case. That’s the worst case every time you start up a CASPer.”