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Authors: adrian felder

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BOOK: DusktoDust_Final3
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Next to Letsego, Carpenter cracked a grin.

Kid, I was dropping from the heavens before your first hard on.

Without hesitation, the smuggler punched the chest release on his drop mech, and then with practiced fluidity, he climbed into the contraption.

Clear,

he said, and the mech closed around him like a cocoon.

Letsego eyed the mechanical behemoth that stood before him. He had seen orbital dropping in the vids, but in all his years in the Peacekeepers he had never done it himself. Now, standing in front of his own drop mech he was more than a little nervous. The mech was nearly two and a half meters tall and black as night. It looked about as maneuverable as a rock. How was this supposed to get him from the upper atmosphere to the surface of Prospect?

The ICARUs soldiers sensed his apprehension.

Don

t worry, Staff Sergeant.

One of them leaned in and hit the chest release and the mech opened.

It

s just like driving a hover.

The other soldier snickered.

Yeah, if the hover is dropped from orbit and has no repulsors.

Letsego situated himself inside the mech. There were flashing LEDs and readouts all around him. This seemed a little more complicated than driving a hover.

One of the soldiers leaned in.

Ok, here

s your crash course.

Letsego did not appreciate the use of the word

crash

.

Half these displays are worthless, but there

s three you need to pay attention to. Altitude,

he pointed at one readout,

airspeed,

and another,

temperature,

and another.

The mech reacts to your body motions. Whatever input you give, the CPU will convert to thruster actions. Just pretend you

re flying. If you want to turn right extend your right arm, left is the opposite. Turning is directed by your head movement. If you want to speed up, kick your legs out. Slow down, bring them in. It

s actually really intuitive. But then remember you

re not actually flying, you

re falling.


If your temp gets above one twenty you need to slow down, reduce the air friction. The landing zone will be marked on your visor. We

re gonna be popping claws at five thousand feet. You

ll hear the order. When you want to deploy the claw pull here,

he pointed to a handle just within reach of his right hand.

You

ll float down to the ground like a baby

kinda.

The soldier climbed down from the mech.

You

ll be fine, Staff Sergeant. Just stay with the group and let the mech do the work. You

ll be on the deck playing secret agent in no time.

He punched the mech

s release again and the machine swallowed Letsego.

With the mech closed, it was cramped but comfortable. Letsego was surprised that both his sight and hearing were hardly limited by the suit. He had expected a feeling of claustrophobia.


Alright, Devils!

bellowed the small, grizzled platoon sergeant as he strutted through the bay.

If you aren

t in your mechs in the next ten seconds the El-tee

s gonna have your ass.

All around him, soldiers sprinted to their positions. Lieutenant Gnasher climbed into the mech next to Letsego and closed it up.


ICARUs Two, this is
Defiance
Actual,

Commodore Long

s voice crackled through the mech

s helmet speakers.


Go for ICARUs Two,

Gnasher

s voice responded.


Lieutenant, you have thirty seconds to get the hell off of my ship.


Solid copy,
Defiance
.


Good skies, ICARUs Two. We

ll be back for you.
Defiance
out.


Two Papa, this is Two Actual.


Send it,

said the platoon sergeant.


You heard the woman. Are the Death Divers ready to go?


All babes are in their cradles.


Let

s get them going.


Through Hell and Back!

the platoon sergeant growled in a mean, vicious voice.


Hell yeah!

was the response from thirty six Death Divers.


Control, open the bay doors,

Gnasher directed.

Below Letsego, the floor opened up to the Prospectian sky.
Defiance
was skimming through the upper atmosphere. His mech was suspended above the opening, dangling over the precipice of hell.


All Divers, prepare for drop,

Gnasher announced.

Three, two, one, DROP!

With the release of his mech, Letsego

s stomach jumped into his throat, and he fell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25: Into Hell Face First

“In one minute you will no longer be Marines. You will no longer be men or women. Once you step out that door you will be angels. You will be messengers from the heavens sent to deliver tidings of hate and discontent upon the enemy. You will be wraiths who know more freedom than any human being on the Earth. And with that freedom you will wreak havoc upon anyone who dares oppose you. Is that understood?”


Yes,
S
ergeant!

“Damn right. All jumpers, unhook!” He paced down the aisle between two rows of mechs, stopping in front of one. “Ready for your first jump, Ramirez?”


Yes,
S
ergeant!
” She sounded off.

“No you’re not. I can see it. You’re afraid to fall. But falling is good.” He raised his voice. “What happens when we fall, Marines!”


We rise up!
” The words echoed through the drop ship.

“That’s right! And when we rise up we are unstoppable!” He glanced at her. “
You

re gonna love it.

He then turned and faced the open rear hatch. “
Drop in five! Four!
” Awkwardly, he began running toward the opening, the heavy oversized boots of his mech pounding against the deck. “Three! Two! One! DROP!”

With that he leapt into open space.

 

The memories flooded back and filled David with euphoria. Alana had loved it. And the next jump and the next jump. It was the ultimate feeling of freedom; dropping from the heavens like a god.

As he passed through Prospect

s mesosphere, the view through his visor was tranquil. Despite hurdling toward the surface at close to three hundred kilometers an hour, his surroundings were calm. He had never seen the planet so clearly before. The contrast between the light side, dark side, and Dusk Zone was chilling.

David felt completely at ease. He had completed dozens of orbital drops in the Corps, some in training, over Earth and Corsica, more in combat, over Mars, New Venus, and a handful of others. He loved the experience. At no other time in his life did he ever feel so completely free. Plus it was a fast and efficient way to be deposited into combat.

Defiance
had dropped them deep on the dark side of the planet. David could see Prospect

s star, Tango, peaking over the far horizon. Commodore Long had not had much of a window for their drop and this must have been the best she could do. The formation of mechs maneuvered toward the bright horizon, not flying but not quite falling either. Their target landing zone was as far out as the machines could travel, but it still looked like they would be landing short of the Dusk Zone, a hundred or so miles into the dark side.

He flexed his arm, rolling the mech over. Looking up into space, he could see
Defiance
getting smaller by the second. The ship was racing away, Federation fighters close on its tail. She maneuvered up, heading for open space. Then there was a flash and the cruiser was gone.

Shit
.

Brace for impact!

Even before he was finished with the warning, the shockwave slammed into his mech. He went from being in a controlled glide to tumbling through the air. The lights inside his suit flickered for a few seconds but then came back on. Once power was flowing again, David regained control. He could see the other Hell Divers around him struggling to control their own mechs.


What the hell was that?

Gnasher demanded over the radio.


Lieutenant, this is Carpenter,
Defiance
just jumped away.


That bitch is crazy,

another soldier injected.


That

s your senior officer, Buettner,

Gnasher scolded. David thought the soldier was right. Commodore Long had jumped the
Defiance
to hyperspace while in Prospect

s gravity well. No commander would do that if they had another choice. The gravitational forces threatened to tear the ship apart. David hoped they had made it.


Two Papa, get me a tally.

One by one, the squads rogered up to the platoon sergeant. Everyone had been within the Klyston blast radius and all were feeling the effects of the impact on their mechs.


Complete, sir,

the platoon sergeant reported.

We lost two.


Who?

Gnasher asked.


Adams and Sudhoff. Looks like their mechs never recovered from the blast. They

ve fallen out of the formation.


Roger,

Gnasher said. David knew there was nothing they could do for the two men. He just hoped their suits regained power before they reached the surface.

We still have our tourists?

the lieutenant asked as an afterthought.


Still in one piece,

David answered.


Functioning, sir,

was Letsego

s response.


Roger,

Gnasher said again.

All Divers. We are passing through the stratosphere. Keep the formation tight. Five minutes, twenty seconds to decel.

 

The frozen ground rushed up fast, even with the mech

s grav claw deployed. With a thud, the mammoth machine touched down, jarring David inside. Out of his visor he could see the desolate expanse of the dark side of Prospect. Even inside the mech he could hear the howling of the wind blowing crystals of snow that had not thawed in millennia. The wasteland was devoid of life except for the other dive mechs that dotted the rocky landscape.


All divers,

Gnasher

s voice crackled through the radio.

Dismount. Set self destruct for thirty mikes, then form up on me.

David keyed his chest release from the inside of his mech. The cocoon-like casing opened up and he instantly felt the bite of the bitter cold wind. The combat armor they had given him was fully sealed to the outside, but its environmental unit was little match for the sub zero temperatures it was facing. David dared not take his helmet or gloves off for fear of instant frostbite..

He hopped down and surveyed his surroundings. The ICARUs platoon was scattered across a two football field sized area. He toggled his helmet controls and the location of Lieutenant Gnasher popped up in his helmet. He was half a click away.

Before leaving his mech, David gathered the various pieces of kit loaded into its storage containers. Soon he had a rucksack with extra cold weather clothing, an array of tactical gear, and multiple days

worth of rations and ammo slung across his back. In his arms he cradled an assault rifle and he had a pistol strapped to his leg. Lastly, he went around to the rear of the mech and set the self-destruct timer for thirty minutes. The Peacekeepers were not going to leave their gear to be reappropriated by the enemy.

Fully loaded for war, David took off at a trot towards the waypoint marked on his HUD. He was one of the last to arrive. Gnasher was already issuing orders.


Set up a three sixty. We

re gonna be here for a minute,

he told the platoon sergeant.

Then get the squad leaders on me.

The shorter man sprinted off to set up security.

Another man stood next to the platoon commander.

Alright, Staff Sergeant,

Gnasher said to him.

Now

s the time to tell me what the hell is going on here?.


How much did the Commodore tell you?

He replied to the lieutenant.


Next to nothing. How about you start with who the hell you two are. I know you

re intelligence, what about him?

he said pointing at David.


Carpenter

s a civilian, sir. But he worked with me to deliver valuable first hand intel about the Federation.

Gnasher grunted.

Great, now I

m a baby sitter.

He looked at David.

You have any military experience, Mr. Carpenter?


A little,

David understated.

Spent a few years in the US Marines, sir.


Well, this isn

t the time to play hero. You two may be the brains of this mission, but my men are the brawn. When the shooting starts, leave the heavy lifting to us.

Letsego and David both nodded, however the ex-Marine had no interest in sitting back and watching when the shit hit the fan.

The platoon sergeant returned, with two sergeants and a corporal in tow.

Nice of you to join us, gents,

Gnasher commented. The men exchanged introductions with the outsiders. The platoon sergeant was Field Sergeant Nobal, a short and stocky man but clearly seasoned in the art of war. A large scar made a mess of where his nose used to be. Sergeant Weilbacher was squad leader for first squad and also the senior non-commissioned officer in the platoon. Sergeant Washington had third squad and Corporal Zeek was the newly assigned leader of second squad. The previous man had been one of the two Divers to go down during the drop.

Once the pleasantries were complete, Gnasher got back to business.

Now what

s this about Federation intel? Why the hell did we stay here while the rest of the fleet jumped away?

David glanced at Letsego.

Hey, this is all you. You

re the intel guy.


The Federation is trying to take Prospect by force.


You don

t need intel training to figure that one out,

Nobal commented dryly.

Letsego continued.

They

ve allied with Windcorp and Black Cresent. Their objectives are likely facilities on the light side of the planet, but I expect them to attempt to control the Dusk Zone too. As we saw in orbit, the Feds are throwing everything they

ve got at Prospect. At least two of their sector fleets and who knows how many ground troops.


Why?

Sergeant Weilbacher cut in.

Prospect is an empty rock. Why do they want it so badly now?


Weapons technology,

David provided.


You mean Peacekeeper spooks have some super-secret weapons facility here?


Not the Peacekeepers,

Letsego said. He paused a second.

It

s alien technology discovered by Windcorp.


There were reports during the battle that the
Aurora
was taken out by a single gunboat,

Gnasher recalled.

Something about all of a sudden no one on board responding and the ship just drifting lifelessly. Is that what you

re talking about?

Letsego nodded.


You mean it killed everyone on board and left the ship intact?

Corporal Zeek asked.

That

s some mean alien tech. How does it work?


Zeek, don

t even pretend your feeble mind could understand this shit,

Nobal scolded.


All we really know is it

s based on the substance Rockworm,

Letsego said.

Windcorp has unearthed samples of the tech in an alien archeological dig. The quantities are limited, but given time, and the resources of both Windcorp and the Fed, I think it

s likely they

ll be able to reverse engineer it. For obvious reasons we can

t let that happen.


What

s our mission?

Gnasher asked.


We are the commodore

s eyes and ears. The fleet is coming back, but with the Skylift gone, there are no Peacekeepers planetside, save for us.


So you want us to do some secret squirrel shit. Lay low, gather intel, and wait for the cavalry to come.

Letsego nodded.

We get as much info we can, designate a few targets, troop clusters, maybe a few C2 nodes, and monitor the nets. Once the fleet returns we will give them any assistance we can.

Gnasher went over the plan in his head.

Where do we do this from?


They

ll choose a base of operations in or around Windham City. That

s where we start.

BOOK: DusktoDust_Final3
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