daring to utter a word would shatter the miserable stillness and bring black memories rushing back to claim them. At last, Bagman gave a peculiar synthetic cough. "Huh. Nothing's changed."
"We need to find cover," said Rogue in a low, loaded voice.
"Quarter-klick to the north," Helm answered immediately, anticipating the GI's requirements. "A network of crevices. Some shallow nooks in there."
Rogue took off at a jog without looking to see if Ferris was following and the pilot charged after him, giving the pod one last farewell glance. In the distance, in the opposite direction, the plume of smoke from the shuttle coiled up into the clouds, a dark ribbon against an oil-stained sky.
The Quartz Zone was riddled with shallow craters and fissures where the fused surface was cracked and broken, and Rogue's unerring eye for defensive shelter quickly found them a surface cave where they could hide. Ferris sucked plastic-tasting water from a tube in his suit and watched the GI drop his gear.
"Bagman, dispense entrenching tool." The backpack complied and Rogue unfolded a memory-metal spade, walking out to the edge of the crevice. The GI slammed the blade of the tool into the glassy earth and began to dig.
"What's he doing?" Ferris asked.
"Burial detail," replied Helm.
Ferris saw the GI remove Zero's biochip and put it to one side. A sudden, icy realisation struck him. "Skev... This is it, isn't it? This is where you guys... Where you-"
"Died? Bought the farm? Copped it? Got scragged?" Gunnar said. "Yeah, more or less."
The pilot shook his head. "Is there any part of this damn planet that isn't somebody's war grave?"
Helm spoke again. "We're about twenty, maybe thirty klicks from the drop point." The artificial voice seemed distant now. "Mass capsule landing, it was. Seven ships, full compliment of pods. The Norts had been tipped off, see. They were waiting down here with shoulder-mounted rocket launchers."
"Coffin-breakers," Bagman broke in.
"Gunnar... He was hit first," Helm continued, and Ferris felt like the voices from the biochips were not really speaking to him; this was some kind of litany for the dead men, the unwritten memory of their shared trauma.
"I got out, soon as the pod touched down," said the mind in the rifle. "Hammered a hundred of those Kashans. Fed the bastards eighty-eights and gamma grenades like they was goin' out of style." Gunnar was silent for a moment. "Redball and Tagger, they were covering the flank, but then they were gone and I didn't see the Nort with the plasma sphere. Rogue tried to warn me... Next thing I know, I'm bleeding out right there on the glass."
"He put your chip in his rifle," said Ferris.
"My rifle!" Gunnar retorted. "It's my damned rifle." There was another pause. "I was ghosted but Rogue got me out... I wasn't the last, not by a long way."
Bagman began to speak, picking up the thread of the recollection. "We had no choice. We had to fall back, regroup, so anyone who was left formed up into skirmish units and we splintered. Figured we'd have a better chance of making it to pick-up that way."
"We got to the edge of the zone with five of us left in our team," added Helm. "Bag, Rogue and me, plus Joker and Cowboy. Scopes got popped by a buzzsaw mine on the way and there was nothing left of him. Then we ran into the Kashar Legion... They were sweeping up after the ambush, looking for survivors. They pinned us down in a crater and waited for us to use up our ammo. The map called it Strongpoint Siouxie, but it was just a hole in the ground."
"They didn't wait long, though." Bagman's tone was hollow. "They sent a drill probe in after us. I remember the heat... The smell, like overcooked rations. There was a split in my chest, you understand? Big enough to put my fist in." The chip made a low, guttural sound. "Nnnn. Then I woke up, woke up on silicon. Just like that."
Ferris found he couldn't look away from Rogue as the GI carefully placed the inert dog-chip in its tiny,
"We need to find cover," said Rogue in a low, loaded voice.
"Quarter-klick to the north," Helm answered immediately, anticipating the GI's requirements. "A network of crevices. Some shallow nooks in there."
Rogue took off at a jog without looking to see if Ferris was following and the pilot charged after him, giving the pod one last farewell glance. In the distance, in the opposite direction, the plume of smoke from the shuttle coiled up into the clouds, a dark ribbon against an oil-stained sky.
The Quartz Zone was riddled with shallow craters and fissures where the fused surface was cracked and broken, and Rogue's unerring eye for defensive shelter quickly found them a surface cave where they could hide. Ferris sucked plastic-tasting water from a tube in his suit and watched the GI drop his gear.
"Bagman, dispense entrenching tool." The backpack complied and Rogue unfolded a memory-metal spade, walking out to the edge of the crevice. The GI slammed the blade of the tool into the glassy earth and began to dig.
"What's he doing?" Ferris asked.
"Burial detail," replied Helm.
Ferris saw the GI remove Zero's biochip and put it to one side. A sudden, icy realisation struck him. "Skev... This is it, isn't it? This is where you guys... Where you-"
"Died? Bought the farm? Copped it? Got scragged?" Gunnar said. "Yeah, more or less."
The pilot shook his head. "Is there any part of this damn planet that isn't somebody's war grave?"
Helm spoke again. "We're about twenty, maybe thirty klicks from the drop point." The artificial voice seemed distant now. "Mass capsule landing, it was. Seven ships, full compliment of pods. The Norts had been tipped off, see. They were waiting down here with shoulder-mounted rocket launchers."
"Coffin-breakers," Bagman broke in.
"Gunnar... He was hit first," Helm continued, and Ferris felt like the voices from the biochips were not really speaking to him; this was some kind of litany for the dead men, the unwritten memory of their shared trauma.
"I got out, soon as the pod touched down," said the mind in the rifle. "Hammered a hundred of those Kashans. Fed the bastards eighty-eights and gamma grenades like they was goin' out of style." Gunnar was silent for a moment. "Redball and Tagger, they were covering the flank, but then they were gone and I didn't see the Nort with the plasma sphere. Rogue tried to warn me... Next thing I know, I'm bleeding out right there on the glass."
"He put your chip in his rifle," said Ferris.
"My rifle!" Gunnar retorted. "It's my damned rifle." There was another pause. "I was ghosted but Rogue got me out... I wasn't the last, not by a long way."
Bagman began to speak, picking up the thread of the recollection. "We had no choice. We had to fall back, regroup, so anyone who was left formed up into skirmish units and we splintered. Figured we'd have a better chance of making it to pick-up that way."
"We got to the edge of the zone with five of us left in our team," added Helm. "Bag, Rogue and me, plus Joker and Cowboy. Scopes got popped by a buzzsaw mine on the way and there was nothing left of him. Then we ran into the Kashar Legion... They were sweeping up after the ambush, looking for survivors. They pinned us down in a crater and waited for us to use up our ammo. The map called it Strongpoint Siouxie, but it was just a hole in the ground."
"They didn't wait long, though." Bagman's tone was hollow. "They sent a drill probe in after us. I remember the heat... The smell, like overcooked rations. There was a split in my chest, you understand? Big enough to put my fist in." The chip made a low, guttural sound. "Nnnn. Then I woke up, woke up on silicon. Just like that."
Ferris found he couldn't look away from Rogue as the GI carefully placed the inert dog-chip in its tiny,
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