figured it would be easier to let us all die and be revived later, they might well engineer our deaths for the sheer convenience of it.
But I was a veteran now. I wasn’t supposed to whine or complain. I was supposed to reassure those who did. It felt a little odd, but I thought I could get used to it.
Finally, someone felt the urge to tell us what the hell was going on outside our ship’s hull. A voice and a face appeared on one wall. It was none other than Primus Winslade.
“Troops,” he said, looking a little flustered. “ Cyclops , Minotaur and Pegasus are in action. We’ve met up with unexpected resistance. There appears to be some kind of fortification on the smallest of the target world’s three moons. The moment we exited warp and showed ourselves, this moon fired missiles at us. They’re currently inbound. Everyone is to prep their equipment and march to the lifters. I want my cohort off this ship and in transit now !”
Winslade sounded nervous. He didn’t say how many missiles or what kind of warheads they had. He probably didn’t know.
Carlos slapped my shoulder. “Hey, do you realize what’s going to happen if those missiles get through our defenses and blow up one of these ships? That’s it. Permed! A whole legion. Or maybe it will be our lucky turn to get cleaned out. After all this training, too. I want—”
“Shut up, Ortiz!” I boomed. I realized I should have said those words about a full minute back, but I was a little slow sometimes. I wasn’t used to being the veteran. “Get your rig walking—with you inside of it!”
Everyone went back to prepping their machines. About ninety seconds later, I rolled up the big bay exit door, and we went clanking down the passageway toward the lifters.
Red arrows lit up the floor. That was us—combat arms. I hoped they’d load up the rest of our support people, too. We needed everyone on this drop.
I didn’t even bother to look back to see if the rest of the dragons were following me. If they weren’t stomping after me with their tails lashing, well, they could die in the module with the bio people.
Wham!
The broadsides had fired another salvo. I was nearly thrown off my artificial feet. Servos whined, and I drew a three-clawed gash on the closest metal wall. But I stayed up and marching. My team was behind me, and I could see there were no stragglers. My HUD showed they were all there—a row of wicked marching machines right behind me.
Among all the squads to reach the lifters, we were third. I felt proud. Veteran Harris was there ahead of me, however. He gave my team a glance but didn’t nod or wave. He looked like he smelled something foul.
Leeson waved me closer. He was inside one of the dragons as well. His claw-arm looked strange as he made a human-like gesture. I hurried and clanked up to him.
“Good job, McGill,” he said. “You’re right on time. We’ll be the first lifter to abandon this ship if Toro’s platoon gets down here.”
Graves came clanking in next. I thought he looked uncomfortable in his dragon. He didn’t ride it, it rode him.
“This damned thing fell on its nose when the broadsides fired the second time,” he complained. “Where the hell is Toro?”
Leeson threw up his grippers. “She’s late.”
The broadsides boomed a third time, and about one second later, Toro and her team arrived. She was leading all of them with her two veterans right behind her. I recognized Johnson and Gonzales. I wondered how glad they were to lay eyes on me.
“About time, Toro,” Graves said. “Get your machines secured. We’re dropping.”
“Sir?” Leeson said. “The pilot wants to know if we can fly. The missiles, sir—”
“Tell him to decouple in twenty seconds. Positions, everyone!”
We dropped our visors all around, and we backed our machines into the hanging clamps that were supposed to secure us during flight. Moments later the floor became the wall, and then it became the ceiling.
About half of
But I was a veteran now. I wasn’t supposed to whine or complain. I was supposed to reassure those who did. It felt a little odd, but I thought I could get used to it.
Finally, someone felt the urge to tell us what the hell was going on outside our ship’s hull. A voice and a face appeared on one wall. It was none other than Primus Winslade.
“Troops,” he said, looking a little flustered. “ Cyclops , Minotaur and Pegasus are in action. We’ve met up with unexpected resistance. There appears to be some kind of fortification on the smallest of the target world’s three moons. The moment we exited warp and showed ourselves, this moon fired missiles at us. They’re currently inbound. Everyone is to prep their equipment and march to the lifters. I want my cohort off this ship and in transit now !”
Winslade sounded nervous. He didn’t say how many missiles or what kind of warheads they had. He probably didn’t know.
Carlos slapped my shoulder. “Hey, do you realize what’s going to happen if those missiles get through our defenses and blow up one of these ships? That’s it. Permed! A whole legion. Or maybe it will be our lucky turn to get cleaned out. After all this training, too. I want—”
“Shut up, Ortiz!” I boomed. I realized I should have said those words about a full minute back, but I was a little slow sometimes. I wasn’t used to being the veteran. “Get your rig walking—with you inside of it!”
Everyone went back to prepping their machines. About ninety seconds later, I rolled up the big bay exit door, and we went clanking down the passageway toward the lifters.
Red arrows lit up the floor. That was us—combat arms. I hoped they’d load up the rest of our support people, too. We needed everyone on this drop.
I didn’t even bother to look back to see if the rest of the dragons were following me. If they weren’t stomping after me with their tails lashing, well, they could die in the module with the bio people.
Wham!
The broadsides had fired another salvo. I was nearly thrown off my artificial feet. Servos whined, and I drew a three-clawed gash on the closest metal wall. But I stayed up and marching. My team was behind me, and I could see there were no stragglers. My HUD showed they were all there—a row of wicked marching machines right behind me.
Among all the squads to reach the lifters, we were third. I felt proud. Veteran Harris was there ahead of me, however. He gave my team a glance but didn’t nod or wave. He looked like he smelled something foul.
Leeson waved me closer. He was inside one of the dragons as well. His claw-arm looked strange as he made a human-like gesture. I hurried and clanked up to him.
“Good job, McGill,” he said. “You’re right on time. We’ll be the first lifter to abandon this ship if Toro’s platoon gets down here.”
Graves came clanking in next. I thought he looked uncomfortable in his dragon. He didn’t ride it, it rode him.
“This damned thing fell on its nose when the broadsides fired the second time,” he complained. “Where the hell is Toro?”
Leeson threw up his grippers. “She’s late.”
The broadsides boomed a third time, and about one second later, Toro and her team arrived. She was leading all of them with her two veterans right behind her. I recognized Johnson and Gonzales. I wondered how glad they were to lay eyes on me.
“About time, Toro,” Graves said. “Get your machines secured. We’re dropping.”
“Sir?” Leeson said. “The pilot wants to know if we can fly. The missiles, sir—”
“Tell him to decouple in twenty seconds. Positions, everyone!”
We dropped our visors all around, and we backed our machines into the hanging clamps that were supposed to secure us during flight. Moments later the floor became the wall, and then it became the ceiling.
About half of
Similar Books
