Undying Mercenaries 2: Dust World (5 page)

“That’s right, Earth isn’t alone. There’s another colony out there in space. Right here, in fact.”

He smacked the wall-screen which comprised one entire end of the mess hall. The wall didn’t even shimmer. It wasn’t a projection, but an image generated by photosensitive organic LEDs sprayed onto the wall itself.

A murmur swept over us. A lot of hands raised. We were allowed to do that during a briefing if we had a question.

“Tech Specialist Elkin?” Graves asked, calling on a woman in the front row.

My eyes searched for her. There she was, sweet Natasha. Like Kivi, I’d had a thing going with her back on Steel World, but it had fallen apart after returning home to Earth.

Natasha Elkin was quite different from Kivi in manners and appearance. She was soft-spoken but always knowledgeable and confident. Her cheekbones were high, like a girl in a magazine, but her eyes squinched up and disappeared when she smiled. She was tall, with a fit body and a nice face.

“Sir?” Natasha asked. “Are you talking about the failed exploration mission of 2049?”

“Ah-ha! Yes, exactly. I’d hoped one of you had heard of it. Nice to have someone with a real education in the room.”

I was baffled but unsurprised. Natasha had always been something of a brain and a natural teacher’s pet. I had it on good authority that she’d once built her own pet out of artificial parts and been expelled from school for the infraction.

“For the unenlightened, I’ll explain,” Graves said. “Back in 2049, before even I was born, Earth sent a mission to the stars. The Hydra project.”

When he said that, a light finally went off in my head. I remembered having read about that mission. People at the time had believed
Hydra
had triggered the interest of the Galactics in Earth. As far as I could recall, the ship left Earth and was never heard from again.

“The
Hydra mission was to explore and colonize an exoplanet we’d seen only in telescopes at that time,” Graves continued. “All our measurements told us that the world was Earth-like and had large bodies of liquid water. We’ve since found inhabited worlds even closer, but we didn’t know about them at that time.”

Natasha raised her hand again. I rolled my eyes. She loved showing off when she knew something the rest of us didn’t. Graves called on her.

“Sir? I thought the mission was lost.”

“That’s what the official story was. But I’m here to brief you on what really happened—at least, as much as we know. You have to understand that our human-built propulsion systems were woefully inadequate when the ship left. To travel the thirty-odd lightyears to the target star system took more than fifty years in local time.”

There was as murmur of disbelief around the room.

“That’s right,” Graves said. “Even given the effects of time-dilation at great speed, we have to assume that people lived and died on that ship before they arrived. Some must have been born en route, and others probably never lived to see the end of the journey. Shortly after they left—right about when the Galactics arrived to graciously invite us into their Empire—we lost contact with the ship. But that was partly by design. The newly formed Hegemony government signaled
Hydra
to go radio-silent. They were worried that if the Galactics found out we’d already launched a colony ship, we’d be destroyed.”

I looked around the room. People were frowning, taking it in.
This news was big. It was strange to think that Earth had sent out a vessel to the stars without any helpful alien tech. I felt proud just thinking about it. By their faces however, I could tell that to others the thought was disturbing.

“We didn’t hear from
Hydra
for about seventy years. A few months ago we finally did get a short message from them, saying the mission had reached their target star, and they’d set up a colony there. Here’s the shocking part: they sent that message to us thirty-five years ago. That means they reached the world in question and have been living there ever since. At least, we
think
they’re still alive. A lot can happen in thirty-five years.”

I raised my hand then. I was becoming curious about a key detail that had been left out of the briefing.

“Sir?” I asked. “What are we supposed to do when we get out there? Who do we have a contract with?”

Graves pointed at me. “Good question, McGill. What does all this business about a lost colony have to do with Legion Varus? Well, we
do
have a contract. We’ve been hired to aid the colonists—if they’re still alive, that is.”

I frowned. It still wasn’t making sense to me. “Aid them? To do what?”

“We’re not sure. But we’re assuming they need some kind of military support. Maybe they have a civil war on their hands, we aren’t clear on that. They don’t have modern communication systems at this point, so they can’t send messages that travel faster than the speed of light.”

The Galactic Empire we all lived within was anything but transparent. Every member world only knew as much as they needed to know about the rest of the star systems out there. Earth only sold mercenary contracts to neighbors within a zone about a hundred lightyears across. That was our territory. Beyond that, the star maps were blank in our computers. We were only given information that had been deemed necessary to perform our trade duties—namely, to provide mercenary troops to neighboring worlds.

“Let me answer your next question before you ask it,” Graves said, looking around the room. “Why do we think our colonists might be under attack? Well, it has to do with Galactic chatter. We monitor local messaging as is within our legal rights. We’ve picked up traffic, messages concerning this star system. It’s our belief that the Galactics have discovered our colony.”

Natasha had her hand up again. “What if they aren’t under threat? What if they plan to produce mercenaries of their own to compete with Earth?”

Graves’ face hardened. “In that case, our mission parameters will change. We’ve been charged with discouraging them from engaging in competitive enterprises.”

Discouraging them.
I rolled those words around in my mind. I hoped the colonists weren’t going up against us. Hegemony was already hurting, and I knew that Varus would have to “discourage them” with violence. I felt bad for the colonists. What a grim situation they must be in. After spending nearly a century cut off from Earth, they finally make contact and what do we do? Send out a force to
discourage
them from trading the one thing that might turn them into a productive member of the Empire. It didn’t seem fair.

“But Centurion Graves,” I blurted out without raising my hand. “Sorry sir, but don’t they have to come up with some kind of trade good? If they don’t—they’ll be erased.”

Graves looked at me flatly. “Would you rather Earth be erased instead?”

I thought that one over. “No, sir.”

Graves straightened up, and I knew he was about to dismiss us. I waved my hand at him one more time.

Veteran Harris stepped close. I could feel him behind me. It made the skin on the back of my neck crawl.

Finally, Graves gestured for me to speak.

“One last question, sir,” I said. “Who hired us to go out there? I mean, if the colonists are just starting out, they don’t have any credits, do they?”

“No,” he said. “They didn’t do it. Hegemony did. We’re working a contract from them. Essentially, Earth is paying for this trip.”

“Can we do that?”

Graves chuckled. “Of course. Any member of the Empire can buy their own goods and services. The Vellusians invented puff-crete, remember? I can assure you that they can, and do, use the stuff themselves.”

I
thought about that, and it made sense. Our legion had to be contracted to take it out of circulation, meaning we couldn’t do any other work at this time. They also had to pay expenses, such as to the Skrull for carrying us out here in
Corvus
. It seemed odd and expensive, but perfectly legal, to buy your own services. I wondered if we gave ourselves a discount.

As we filed out of the briefing, I was still
frowning in thought. Hegemony was hurting for money, but they’d decided to spend some of their last coins on rooting out a potential rival. Since they were sending out my legion, I didn’t think this was going to end well for the colonists. Varus was only brought out to do the dirtiest of jobs, and this one looked like it was going to be the worst yet: fratricide.

They could hang any pretty words on it they wanted to, but that’s how it stacked up to me. We’d been hired to kill our own kind. I was sorry to be a part of this mission already. The more I learned about it, the less I liked it.

-5-

“Are you having bad feelings, McGill?” Veteran Harris asked me a few minutes later in our barracks.

I didn’t even look at him.

“You
do
understand you’re not paid to have feelings of any kind, right?” he asked me, getting in my face. “None of us are. The stakes are too high for any of that crap. All of Earth—everything you love and live for—is in danger.”

“I get that, Vet,” I said, “but this is bullshit.”

“Now don’t get like that on me. We don’t even know the whole story. You have to trust in your officers and your government. Didn’t they teach you that in tech school?”

“I dropped out, remember?”

“That’s no excuse. Get your head straight. If I give the order, I need to know you’ll pull the trigger—no matter what you’re aiming at.”

I sighed and grumbled. Harris stalked away to harangue others. Morale was low. We’d been under the impression we were heading out to fight an alien race to expand our territory. Instead, we were apparently going to have to kill our own kind before they could set up shop and compete with us. That just didn’t sit well with me—or most of the others.

One notable exception was Carlos. He was positively cheery.

“Why the smile, Carlos?” I asked him after the ten-minute buzzer for lights-out went off. “You have a secret murdering soul in your chest?”

“Sure do,” he said. “Same as you. But that’s not it. I’m happy because this is going to be an easy run.
Finally
, a mission a guy can sleep through. Just think about it! A few scrawny colonists who’ve been sitting in a tin-can ship for fifty years. They’ll probably be wearing loincloths and giving each other rides in antique rickshaws. They won’t have a chance against a polished outfit of pros like us.”

I stared at him. “And that makes you happy?”

“Sure does. What? Did you want to fight another horde of crazy lizards?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to be gunning down women and little kids, either.”

“We won’t have to do that!” Carlos said. “We’ll just show up and scare them. Make them think of some other way to make a trade deal with the Galactics.”

“What if they don’t have anything else worth selling?”

Carlos shrugged. “No idea. But hey, do you think they’ll have girls on this colony? I mean…they’d have to be pretty starved for a real man by now, wouldn’t you think?”

I took a swing at him. I’d done it before, but usually he’d started it. I think I surprised him because he jerked his head back too late. I caught the tip of his chin with my knuckles, and he stumbled away, cursing.

We thumped each other a few times, then began wrestling. I was winning easily, but Veteran Harris’ big boots clumped near, and he pulled us apart like two school kids.

“What’s wrong with you clowns?”
Harris demanded, glowering at us. Then he let go of me and shook Carlos. “You started it, didn’t you?”

“T
hat’s an unfair assumption, Vet,” Carlos complained. “McGill swung first.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harris said. “I know it’s your fault.”

“What? Why?”

“‘Cause McGill is an asshole, but you’re worse.”

A few minutes later we were on our bunks with the lights out. I rubbed at a bruise on my cheek.

“Seriously,” Carlos whispered from the bunk above mine. “You think they’ll have girls on this rock?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll save them for you. You’ll get to slaughter
all
the civvies.”

“That’s not what I meant, dammit,” he muttered. “Just forget about it. And I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. No one seems to know when I’m joking around.”

“That’s because you joke about things that aren’t funny.”

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. I
dreamt of screaming colonists with legionnaires running after them, hosing them down with pellets and sizzling beams. I didn’t really believe it could happen, but Legion Varus had done some questionable things in the past—and Earth was desperate.

* * *

Centurion Graves summoned me to his office at the end of our first week in space. I’d been expecting his call. It was time for me to begin my training as a specialist. I’d have to learn fast, as by the time we made planetfall and I jumped out of
Corvus
, I’d be expected to function in my new role.

Earth’s legions had three flavors of non-coms in the enlisted ranks—four, if you counted the Veterans. As a specialist, you could become a Bio who basically served as a medic in the legions. It was a little more complicated than patching up the wounded, however. You had to learn how to operate the revival machines. I shuddered just thinking about that job. I didn’t want to work with those machines. Call me squeamish, but I didn’t even like the idea that I’d been birthed by them repeatedly after dying.

Fortunately, I knew the bio people in the legion pretty much hated me and would probably veto the idea. I wasn’t worried I’d end up working with them. That brought it down to two possibilities: I could be a Tech or a Weaponeer. Techs were just what they sounded like; they handled the drones, our weapons and our combat suits. Maintaining the hardware was a big job in a space-going military force. I knew I could do that kind of work, and I had the education for it. I rather suspected they would assign me there. But they didn’t.

“James McGill,” Graves said slowly. He made it sound as if my name left a funny taste in his mouth.

“Sir?”

He stared at me for a second. “You’re a lot trouble. Did you know that?”

“Yes sir. My mama tells great stories about my early days.”

He chuckled. “I bet she does. I just reread your psych report, you know.”

I didn’t flinch. After all, they’d let me into this legion. When I’d first joined up, the other legions hadn’t wanted me due to a few spikes and curls that showed up on the tests. They’d labeled me a troublemaker, the same as Graves was doing now, and they’d passed—all of them. But Legion Varus had signed me on willingly enough.

“I kind of figured that was all behind me by now,” I said.

Graves shook his head. “I’m not talking about the original tests. I’m talking about the ones they did before we shipped out from Earth. You failed, you know, with flying colors. You lost it in the pressure tent.”

I glanced at him in surprise.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “You had a cover story for beating on your robot. Did you really think there weren’t any cameras recording it all? Worse than that, you failed to follow orders on several additional occasions, doing whatever you damned well pleased.”

I snapped my eyes back to the forward wall. “Sorry about that, sir.”

“Don’t be. We brought you along anyway, didn’t we? Really, I wasn’t surprised by the results. But you have to try to keep a lid on it this time, okay? Do me that little favor. Follow orders this time out and don’t kill people who get in your way—unless they’re the enemy. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal
,” I said.

Graves sighed. I could tell he didn’t believe me.

“Let me level with you, Specialist. I don’t know how this is all going to go down. We have no real idea what we’ll be facing. According to our estimates, there shouldn’t be more than twenty thousand colonists assuming a reasonable level of attrition and breeding over the last seventy years. On top of that, they’ll be wielding pitchforks with any luck.”

He paused, looking over a flimsy slip of dynamically updating computer paper. He put it down.

“But I don’t buy these predictions. I don’t think we’re going to get lucky this time out. We’re probably going to be facing an organized and well-equipped military force.”

I frowned at him. “How is that possible, sir? How could the colonists have advanced equipment? It costs too much—and we know they couldn’t have brought it with them.”

“Loans from the Empire,” Graves said. “We know the imperials know about them. If they are offering them membership, they’ll be given some starter cash.”

Frowning, I shook my head. “They do that?”

“That’s how it works,” he said. “It has to. Think about it. How did Earth suddenly become an interstellar power back in the late 2050s? We didn’t have two sticks to rub together back then, and if we had, we wouldn’t have been able to use them due to some copyright infringement with our neighbors. Every fledgling planet is allowed to borrow Galactic credits to get started. Seed money, essentially. That’s how we financed our first tickets on ships like this one. They flew us to distant worlds and were paid with low-interest, government-backed loans that we couldn’t refuse to take. We had to be able to buy passage, plus our guns and suits, somehow.”

I nodded, thinking about it. The early days weren’t often talked about. I knew the history written about in my school textbooks had been cleaned up. There had been many shady deals, civil wars and upheavals they’d seen fit to leave out. Apparently, they’d also left out details like taking loans from the Galactics.

“So, this could be a battle between two human legions?” I asked in concern.

“Something like that, but don’t worry. We should have the upper hand. They’ve been cut off. They started off with discipline when they left Earth, of course, but it was more like a scientific expedition than a military one. I think they must have a tight organization to have reached the stars and survived. Still, I don’t see how they can match our experience and expertise if it comes down to a fight. I expect Legion Varus will win this conflict in the end.”

I felt uneasy, but managed not to say anything.

Graves stared at me. “I’m going to break one of my own rules, McGill,” he said. “I’m going to ask an enlisted man what he’s thinking. I never do that.”

“I’m thinking that humans should not be killing humans, sir.”

“See? That’s just the kind of crap I don’t want to hear. Didn’t we just lay out the basis for an understanding not five minutes earlier? You’re not supposed to think about things like that at all. You’re no good to me if you’re questioning your orders before we even land.”

“Sorry sir. You asked.”

“So I did,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “All right. Let’s do this. Let’s talk about your promotion and how you’ll fit into Legion Varus after today. First off, you should know that I’ve been transferred—or rather, Primus Turov has been. She’s been given command of a heavy cohort. The Tribune felt she didn’t have the right feel for training fresh troops. Turov is taking her senior officers with her—including me.”

He looked at me as this sank in. Graves was out of my unit? I was surprised, but the more I thought about it, the happier I became.

“Congratulations, sir,” I said quickly.

“I guess that’s an appropriate response,” he said. “I’m finally being moved out of kindergarten. No more light infantry. No more riding herd on fresh recruits in pajamas.”

Graves tapped at a set of orders that appeared on the flimsy slip of plastic on his desk. Words shifted on the film, and his identifying icon blossomed into place. He’d signed the computer scroll with his fingerprints.

He’d transferred out!
I hadn’t dared hope for this. It would be
so
good to have Graves out of my hair. The guy was a capable officer, but he was as cold as a lizard in a snow bank.

I noticed my name was on the electronic slip of plastic. I felt elated to see I had new orders as well.

“I’m taking your squad with me, by the way,” Graves said a moment later, dashing my hopes. “I’m putting you into heavy armor, Specialist. I’m making you a Weaponeer, too, so you’ll have to bulk up in the gym. What do you think about that?”

I froze for a second but managed to swallow my shock.

“Thank you, sir,” I said diplomatically.

“That’s what I figured,” Graves chuckled. “I can always tell when my troops are sweet on me. Now, get the hell out of here.”

I left with sagging spirits.

* * *

The months passed quickly. I learned how to operate heavy armor, which was radically different from the thin smart-cloth suits I’d become accustomed to. Overall, that part of the change was a good one.

My new weapon wasn’t as easy to get used to, however. The old hands called it a belcher—a heavy, plasma-firing tube. It was about five feet long and felt like it weighed five tons. I’d handled one of these units before in combat under dire conditions, and I didn’t find it much easier to operate one now that I’d been issued a weapon officially.

The plasma-tube was something like an RPG in size but heavier and bulkier. It had manual controls and a power pack you had to lug around on your back. The tube itself was difficult in every way. Just adjusting power levels and cranking the focus from tight to diffuse was a workout.

As per Graves’ suggestion, I spent my mornings exercising with weights in the portions of the ship that maintained active gravity-wells. I did this vigorously, as we didn’t even know exactly what conditions would be like when we reached the target world. What if the gravity was double that of Earth? I didn’t want to be caught dragging my weapon behind me in the dirt with my exoskeleton groaning and sparking, unable to keep up with the rest of the squad.