Part 2 (1/2)

Cilreth had made it clear during the voyage that she preferred women, though with Telisa already in a monogamous relations.h.i.+p with Magnus it hadn't impacted the group's dynamic much if at all.

”Oh, I have spy programs for that,” she said.

Telisa smiled. She noticed Cilreth had a stunner on one hip and a machete sheathed on the other. Our weapons fetish has already spread.

”I guess it's up to us to find out what we can with the scouts. s.h.i.+ny didn't know much except he swears this used to be a Trilisk planet,” Magnus said.

”Well, he said it used to have Trilisks on it,” Telisa corrected.

”So, I did manage to get a scan off from orbit,” Cilreth said. ”According to the Clacker, there aren't any major settlements, at least not at any level of technology we'd notice. The interface still needs some work. I know the s.h.i.+p has to be capable of more thorough searches; I just can't operate it well enough yet.”

And it's so d.a.m.n advanced I can barely find my own location marker in it.

”Any information is better than none,” Telisa said.

”So, anyway, I was kinda rushed with that work and didn't get a chance to learn about the planet from Terran sources,” Cilreth continued.

”I didn't find much on this planet anyway except that it's one of the open worlds,” Telisa said. ”It says there was a group of creatures here called the Konuan. Now extinct. Some kind of primitive culture. s.h.i.+ny, are you sure Trilisks were here?”

s.h.i.+ny joined the channel they shared, presumably at Telisa's invitation. ”Certain, verified, known. Ruins around you contain traces of Trilisk presence.”

”They may have been here because of the Konuan,” Telisa said. ”They may have been studying them. Or conquering them. Or whatever it is the Trilisks did.”

Cilreth could tell from the edge in Telisa's voice that her companion didn't like being in the dark about the Trilisk's modus operandi.

”Let's get in there and find out what they did,” Magnus said enthusiastically.

Chapter 2.

The smart screen above the camp flexed gently in a light morning breeze. The screen lay just below most of the green clumps that terminated the stalks, about three meters above the rocky ground. Soldiers worked under the screen. The thin, translucent fabric contained a network of sensors and emitters that scattered their radiation signatures, providing excellent camouflage from orbit. The camp adjoined an escarpment where two square tunnel entrances had been put into the rock. Some men moved in and out of the tunnels while others rested in tents that s.h.i.+fted color lazily to match the densest part of the alien flora above.

Colonel Lance Holtzclaw stood in the center of his camp. This had been home for seven long months. Long enough to become familiar with a place. Long enough to hate a place.

Holtzclaw scratched his infernal itch for the thousandth time. He had started to leave his armored suit open at the front so he could slip his hand in to scratch the pink skin where his replacement arm had been grafted on.

Dammit. What did they do, put someone else's arm on me? Why does it still itch so much?

He glanced at the graft site on his shoulder. The skin of his new arm had proven more aggressive than his old skin. It had grown out from the old line between his new arm and the stump, taking over the original skin of his shoulder. A star-shaped scar still held on at the edge of his chest where part of the seeker round that had taken off his arm had flown out of him.

Maybe they did too good of a job selecting cells to seed the arm. That skin is just healthier than the rest. It's going to take over my whole body...and itch me insane the entire time.

”Colonel,” a soldier addressed him, saluting.

Holtzclaw took a deep breath. ”Yes?”

”I've picked up activity in the atmosphere. A big s.h.i.+p. It landed on the other side of the ruin, down past the broken spire.”

”Any chance it's one of ours?”

”No, sir. It's got to be s.p.a.ce force. The signature is nothing civilian, nothing like I've seen anyway, and it's really big.”

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse.

”Tell Silvarre and get him to the h.e.l.lrakers,” Holtzclaw ordered. The soldier rushed off.

Holtzclaw opened a channel to his perimeter captain as he hustled to the artillery. ”Possible incoming,” he said. ”I'm showing up at HR-2 for an inspection. Double check the perimeter drones.”

”Yes, sir.”

”Are all the Guardians active?”

”Yes, sir, though Shredder-that is, number five-has only seventy rounds. It's on the north side.”

Holtzclaw nodded. It was as he remembered. He simply wanted to double-check everything and get everyone ready for the worst. If the UNSF was here, chances were it wouldn't be a minor attack.

h.e.l.lraker number two sat beside one of the largest alien plants in the camp. The men called it Thor. The robotic artillery piece was in the best shape of the four h.e.l.lrakers his unit had once operated. One of the four had been cannibalized for a few parts too sophisticated for their a.s.sault s.h.i.+ps to fabricate. The other two were operable though compromised in one way or another. Thor was just about perfect. It was a treaded vehicle, five meters on a side, taller than Holtzclaw, and covered in dull black armor with a group of four stub barrels pointed at the sky.

With the help of the spotting drones, or any other accurate information source, the machine could deliver anti-personnel sh.e.l.ls to any location within thirty kilometers. The smart sh.e.l.ls it launched were rocket/projectile hybrids. They were also highly configurable and could alter their own course enough to change the destination by kilometers on the way down. They could also be directionalized to deliver more power in a particular direction upon impact. The kill radius of each smart sh.e.l.l when the blast was evenly distributed extended over one hundred meters.

The h.e.l.lrakers could launch two sh.e.l.ls per second (though the one dubbed Conan had to fire more slowly), which was often useful for saturating defenses. The h.e.l.lrakers were their only real chance of fighting back if the UNSF had found them. Though with only three machines left, Holtzclaw knew any engagement with s.p.a.ce force robots could be disastrous for him and his unit. They were simply running too low on men, machines, parts, and ammunition.

The fourteen Guardian robots on their perimeter could buy them time, but those machines were old and had limited range. As soon as any sophisticated fighting unit acquired them, the Guardian's lifespan would be measured in seconds. To make matters worse, the s.p.a.ce force usually fought with support from orbit.

Silvarre showed up ten seconds after Holtzclaw. Silvarre had short charcoal hair and a deep tan. Holtzclaw's highest ranked subordinate looked lean compared to the solid block of Holtzclaw's square body. The man's cheeks looked more sunken. Holtzclaw thought Silvarre looked worse than when he last saw him, but said nothing.

Holtzclaw thought about their other ordnance. He had four lightly armed a.s.sault s.h.i.+ps, designed to carry his men from world to world. The s.h.i.+ps had been able to produce just enough food and parts to keep them going. He could scramble those and try to attack the enemy s.h.i.+p while they were on the ground. If the UNSF was conducting an armed drop, though, there would be other s.h.i.+ps in orbit prepared to interdict.

More men started to arrive.

”Crack open the backup magazines,” Holtzclaw ordered. The men obeyed, showing him the reloads they had waiting for the artillery machine. Silvarre and Holtzclaw examined what they could and ran some diagnostics while their UED remote sensor probes waited for signs of an incoming attack.

Fifteen minutes ticked by with no sign of the enemy. If the s.p.a.ce force came, he would order his officers to disperse, have the link jamming turned on, and bolster the defense. They saw only the red rocks pocked with holes, the tall alien plants, and the old buildings of the Konuan ruins. All their scans, electromagnetic, seismic, and chemical, indicated nothing amiss.

”They must not know we're here,” Silvarre said. ”There would be no reason to hold back after a drop in the open like that.”

”Then why are they here? This isn't exactly a point of strategic interest. And they've won the war, at least for now.”

”It's time to reexamine our a.s.sumption that it's the s.p.a.ce force,” Holtzclaw said.

”Whoever they are, maybe the d.a.m.n monster will get them,” Silvarre said.

”It'll get a few of them, sure,” Holtzclaw said. ”Then they'll get wise and start hunting it. Unlike us, they're bound to have plenty of supplies to use against it.”

Which means we should make their supplies our supplies, he thought.