The Golden Horde (The Revelations Cycle Book 4) Page 14

  After 15 minutes, he reached a spot where he could see his targets—the Cochkala, Zuparti, and Veetanho ships. Of course there was no cover there, so he continued walking. Ten minutes later, he finally came to what he needed—a small shed situated along the fence line—and he ducked behind it.

  The intel officer removed the backpack from his shoulder and withdrew several dragonflies. A small button on their backs activated them, and he set their return points as the shed. Once they had fulfilled their missions, they would return to the roof of the building to report.

  Easing around the corner, he aimed one at the Veetanho ship, sitting on the right side of the field away from the other ships, and pressed a second button. The green eyes flashed once; target acquired. The wings started beating. Once they were up to speed, he released the drone, and it flew off. In a similar manner, he launched the other dragonflies at the Zuparti and the Cochkala ships.

  He wished he had brought more; he would love to know what the Bugitar ship was doing in Tashkent. He couldn’t remember ever seeing one here before. Not only did he not have any more assets, he was uncomfortable retargeting the ones already in use. With this many ships in the area, there were a multitude of hazards, from spinning radars to loading and unloading operations to hungry birds that thought the drones looked like tasty snacks. It was likely the little drones would be destroyed…probably sooner rather than later. It didn’t matter whether it was intentional or unintentional; once a drone was down, he could no longer get any information from it.

  Something was definitely up, though. There wasn’t enough industry in the Tashkent area to justify the presence of the four enormous transports, plus the Veetanho destroyer; in fact, it was rare to have more than one there at any given time. He wouldn’t have cared if they were in Houston or Abuja, Nigeria, but Tashkent was far too close for his liking.

  The officer reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of other insect-shaped devices. One-by-one, he activated them and sent them on their way toward the ships. They were slower, so they would need more time to get there, and they ran an increased risk of being destroyed en route, but if they made it into position they would have much longer dwell times.

  His bag empty, Major Good turned and left the starport complex, walking out the way he had entered. He never saw the creature detach itself from the shadows of a nearby building. No bigger than a small child, the alien loped over to the stream of “bugs” making their way onto the field. It cocked its head and looked at them for a few moments, then it pulled a pair of strangely shaped goggles from a pouch, put them on, and cocked its head as it looked at the bugs again. It chuckled to itself, then it pulled a small device from an interior pocket of its coat, pointed it at the surveillance drones, and pushed a button. The bugs stopped moving, and many of them fell over as their circuits stopped functioning.

  The creature picked up several of the surveillance devices and placed them in a pocket, then it turned and sped off in the direction the Horde officer had taken.

  Main Conference Room, Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “Does anyone have any comments or suggestions?” Sansar Enkh asked after the force had failed to get the civilians off the planet. Again. “We were able to get two of the shuttles airborne that time, which was our best run yet. I think we’re close to solving it.”

  Walker raised his hand, and Sansar acknowledged him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the only thing that’s going to stop that mass is a nuke. Preferably early on, like when they are all unloading. I’ll game-play the scenario as many times as you’d like, but that was my first impression when I saw it in the trainer, and seeing it as a real-life sim only reinforces that feeling. If we don’t nuke them, and do it when they land, there’s no way we can win.”

  Sansar looked up sharply. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Sure?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not sure we can beat them, even if we nuke them early on. That would certainly help, but they’re awfully resistant to toxins and lots of other environmental factors, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find out they’re resistant to radiation that doesn’t kill them outright. Cockroaches were supposed to be the only things left after a nuclear war; maybe Tortantulas are the same. The one thing I know for sure is we can’t beat them without something. We may be able to hold them off for a little while, but beat them? I don’t think so.”

  Sansar rubbed her chin, deep in thought. “There’s something important about letting them come down the valley,” she said. “I don’t know what it is, but there is a reason we need to fight them.”

  “My assessment stands, ma’am. We may have done fairly well today, but if it ever happened in real life, it won’t go as well as this last run did. Too many people have role-played this scenario, and they’re too comfortable with it. If this really happened, people would be scared. Damn scared. Hell, I almost pissed my suit today, and I knew it was a simulation. If it had been real life, I don’t care how well trained the troops are; someone’s going to break or something’s going to go wrong. Even with perfect conditions and people who knew what was going to happen, we couldn’t win. Throw in a random bit of bad luck, and the entire defense will fall apart like a house of cards. That scenario? It can’t be won as it stands.”

  Sansar smiled. “Then I guess we’re going to have to change the rules.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 11

  Maintenance Bay, Underneath Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth

  “What have you got for me this week?” Sergeant Major Price asked. The senior armorer, Price was responsible for all of the Horde’s CASPer and weapons maintenance.

  Lieutenant Sommerkorn smiled. Although his early career had been marred by a certain level of hyperfocus on less-than-critical issues, he had finally found a job where he could excel. The partnership between the Horde and Nicholas Imports had led to some serious upgrades in his company’s equipment, while staying well below budget.

  He was sure to be hailed as a hero of the Horde once word got around.

  “I’ve got the best thing yet,” Sommerkorn said, holding up a programming chip. “I’ve got a new operating system for our CASPers that my sources say will decrease motion lag time by over 50 percent and will increase weapons targeting speed by 20 percent.”

  “It will decrease motion lag by 50 percent, eh?” Price asked. He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Yeah, it will cut, in half, the delay from when an operator moves to when the suit makes the corresponding movement.”

  “I know what movement lag is, sir. I’ve been driving CASPers since you were sucking on your mother’s…since you were in diapers. I’ve heard claims like this plenty of times before, and I’ve been disappointed every time. Do you have any testing results backing up that claim or any other proof?”

  “Well, no, not really,” Sommerkorn admitted, “but they’ve been right about everything else.”

  “That’s all well and good, sir, but no one changes the programming of my CASPers without some damn thorough testing.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “I have a CASPer that’s a test bed,” Price said, He pointed to a CASPer on the other side of the maintenance bay. It looked unlike the other suits in the hanger; it was a mishmash of parts and paint colors, and it mounted most of the equipment Sommerkorn had procured for the company.

  “So, you tested out the weapons I got, too?”

  “Damn straight, sir. In a suit, your weapons are your life.”

  “Well, how about this, Sergeant Major? I’ll take that suit and this chip, and you pick any other suit you want. I’ll bet I can take you two out of three falls.”

  “Are you kidding me, sir? I like my job and don’t want Colonel Enkh to fire me when you’re too sore and busted up tomorrow to be able to do yours.”

  “Well, Sergeant Major, there’s no doubt you have more experience in them than I do—”

  “Damn right I do!” Price interrupted.

  “—but I’m willin
g to give it a shot if you are.” Sommerkorn finished.

  “Kick his ass, Sergeant Major!” someone yelled, along with several similar cries. Sommerkorn looked around and found a small crowd had gathered to watch the by-play. He knew Price could see the crowd, too, and the senior enlisted man would probably realize he had no choice if he was going to maintain his “badass” status.

  “What do you say, Sergeant Major?” Sommerkorn prodded with a smile. “Going to defend your honor?”

  “All right, sir, if an ass-kicking is what you want, I’ll give you one. I’ll try to go easy so I don’t cause myself a lot of extra work fixing your CASPer, but no promises.”

  He turned and walked off toward one of the CASPers on the “Ready” line, muttering something to himself. Sommerkorn thought he heard something about a “damn fool kid” somewhere in the middle.

  Smiling, he turned and walked toward the test bed CASPer. One of the maintenance troopers came up to walk alongside him, chuckling. “You know he’s got more hours in the CASPer than anyone else but the colonel, right?” the sergeant asked.

  “I do,” Sommerkorn replied with a nod. “When I beat him, it’ll mean that much more.”

  “Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t beat up the suit too much,” the enlisted man said. “I’m Sergeant Dunlop. I’m the suit mech for this CASPer, so I’ll have to fix whatever the sergeant major breaks.” After a pause he cocked his head and asked, “You really think you can beat him?”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Sommerkorn replied as they neared the suit. “I’m told this will make the suit faster than any CASPer he’s ever fought.” Sommerkorn looked at the suit and frowned.

  “Is there a problem?” the sergeant asked.

  “Uh, yeah. How do I…umm…how do I load the software?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” the sergeant said. “It’ll be ready before you can get your gear on.”

  Sommerkorn went to the locker room and put on his gear as quickly as he could. The tech was waiting at the humming CASPer when he returned.

  “It’s all set to go,” the trooper said. “New software is loaded and operational.”

  Sommerkorn ascended the boarding ladder and climbed into the CASPer. It wasn’t the first time he’d worn one, but it had been a while, so he went slowly to make sure he didn’t miss anything. It was also the first time he had put on a suit since he’d received his new pinplants; those leads took a little bit of fumbling to position correctly with his shaking hands, but he finally got them seated.

  The sergeant followed him up the ladder to check his connections and was waiting when Sommerkorn looked up. “You’re sure you want to do this?” the tech asked. “You may get some shit for backing down, but it’s a whole lot better than what you’re going to get if you go out there and face him.”

  “I’m going to do it,” Sommerkorn replied with a less-than-totally-confident nod. The closer he got to the match, the more he realized he was in over his head.

  The sergeant shrugged. “It’s your life.” He started to climb down, but then he turned back. “The sergeant major didn’t get the team name ‘Bull’ by waiting for things to happen. Don’t let him rush you; I hate cleaning blood out of the boots. Okay? It pools down there and gets really nasty.”

  “Got it,” Sommerkorn replied, now even less sure of himself, “although I’m not really sure I wanted to know that.”

  The sergeant left and removed the boarding ladder. Once it was clear, Sommerkorn closed the canopy and completed the rest of his checks. “I’m finished,” he said once he was done.

  “The sergeant major left ten minutes ago,” Sergeant Dunlop said. “He’s waiting for you outside.”

  Wonderful, Sommerkorn thought. He ran through some of the startup exercises he remembered to get his reflexes back and was surprised at how fast the suit responded. Unfortunately, never having worn one of the Horde suits before, he was unable to tell how much of that was because of the new connections and how much was due to the new programming.

  He hadn’t been worried about wrestling with the sergeant major until Dunlop had mentioned the blood pooling in the boots. As tight as the restraints were in the suit, he wasn’t sure how he could get hit hard enough to start bleeding. Bruised? Yes, but bloody? He shook his head; he probably didn’t want to know.

  The sergeant released him from the straps holding him back, and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself. Not a great start. At first, he was worried that running a CASPer wouldn’t come back to him, and he’d get his ass good and thoroughly kicked, but then he realized the suit was acting faster than he was giving it credit for. His previous experience had conditioned him for a slight delay; when he didn’t get it, he found himself over-controlling the suit.

  Sommerkorn nodded to himself. I can do this, he thought; I just have to forget everything I know about operating a suit. He laughed—that shouldn’t be hard. Unlike Bull, he didn’t have tens of thousands of hours operating them.

  The supply officer ran through all the CASPer exercises he knew as he walked down the exit tunnel, then tried some speed maneuvers; he’d sprint, stop, and go back the way he’d come as quickly as he could. After slamming into someone coming down the tunnel behind him, causing minor damage to both suits, he stopped that exercise; it wouldn’t do to show up in a suit already compromised.

  He reached the light at the end of the tunnel; although it wasn’t as bad as the oncoming train, it wasn’t far off. Sommerkorn exited the tunnel to find a large crowd waiting. In addition to the sergeant major, recognizable by the red bull painted on the front of his CASPer, two other CASPers and at least 100 people stood waiting behind him.

  “I’d almost given up on you, sir,” Sergeant Major Price said. “Did you start having second thoughts? I mean, if you’d like to reconsider now, that will save my guys a lot of trouble putting your suit back together after I’m done.”

  “No, no second thoughts.” Sommerkorn hoped his voice didn’t quaver as much coming out of the speakers as it sounded in his head.

  “For the record, sir, would you like to make sure everyone here knows you agreed to this, just in case certain…injuries…should occur?”

  “Yes, I agreed to this,” Sommerkorn said, his voice sounding a little stronger. “No, that’s not true,” he amended; “I challenged him, so none of this is on him.” He paused a second then added, “Does that work for you, Sergeant Major?”

  “It surely does.”

  A window opened up in Sommerkorn’s mind. “So, how do you want to do this, sir?” Price asked. “Do you want me to finish you off quickly or make it look like you put up a good fight? Unfortunately, with this many people watching, I can’t give you a fall to make you feel good, but I can try to make it look like you at least knew what you were doing.”

  The senior enlisted began circling the supply officer at a distance of about 30 feet, the ground shaking slightly with each step. Although the sergeant major’s suit didn’t have any weapons mounted beyond its knife blade, and that was currently folded, Sommerkorn knew the blade alone would be enough to kill him, if this were a real battle. Just don’t stay still, he thought to himself. Just gotta keep moving…yeah, that way the impact won’t hurt so much, a tiny voice in the back of his head added.

  “Up to you, Sergeant Major,” Sommerkorn said finally.

  “On three, then,” Price said on his external speakers. “One…two…three!” As he said the last word, the sergeant major was already in motion. He lowered his shoulder and fired his jumpjets full throttle.

  Sommerkorn had a split second to react, then fired his right jumpjet as he dove to the left. Price flew through the space Sommerkorn had just occupied, and he reached out to hit Sommerkorn in the hip as the supply officer shied off to the side. It was a glancing blow, but with the momentum behind it, Sommerkorn was spun around. He didn’t go down, though, and regained his balance in time to see Price spinning around 100 feet away.

  Sommerkorn recovered his equilibrium whi
le Price stomped back in range. “Not bad, sir,” Price said as he approached. “I didn’t think you could dodge so fast.”

  “I guess I’ve got fast reflexes,” Sommerkorn said. He stomped his feet several times and stretched his arms back and forth. “I can probably do it even faster, Sergeant Major,” he added; “I’m still getting warmed up.” He scanned his cameras down; he had packed down the ground to a depth of about 10 inches. He refocused on Price. “Want to try that again?” he taunted. “Maybe this time you can get me.”

  Price took a step closer, and just before his foot hit, he triggered the jumpjets. Instead of evading, though, this time Sommerkorn pulled himself down into a crouch with his left hand on the ground, like a lineman on an old-style football team getting ready to rush the quarterback. As Price went over him, he stood suddenly, slapping one of Price’s boots up with his right hand.

  Price’s jumpjets were still on, and as his feet went skyward, the jets drove him down. He killed the jets and was able to tuck into a somersault to keep from landing on his head; instead, he hit flat out on his back, the ground shaking with the impact, and slid 40 feet. The only thing louder was the gasp from the spectators, most of whom had never seen the sergeant major bested.

  The sergeant major didn’t move.

  “You okay, Sergeant Major?” Sommerkorn asked.

  He walked a little closer, starting to get a little worried. The sergeant major was supposed to go with the group to the Trigar system in two days; if he’d seriously injured the sergeant major, it would cause a number of troop rotations, and there would be a lot of pissed off people…people who would be pissed off at him.

  “Sorry about that, Sergeant Major,” he added, taking another few steps closer. “I guess I didn’t think about what would happen if I did that.”

  Price’s right hand started twitching. Well, that was a good sign, Sommerkorn thought. At least he’s alive. One of Price’s legs moved and Sommerkorn breathed another sigh of relief. Price’s back probably wasn’t broken.