Descent into Mayhem (Capicua Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

Autostriders aside, it was clear from their expressions that exhaustion was taking a hold of most of the remainder, and it had begun to court the hardier drivers as well. He felt relieved at having requested the timeout.

“It appears you’ve lost more than five kilos apiece since I last saw you together ...” he stated.

It was no joke; they had probably lost that if not more. He began to chuckle.

“I won’t lie, you all look like you’ve gone through the gut of a Master Sergeant.”

A few grinned. There were even a few laughs, but Hirum’s expression remained as empty as before. The cadet’s lack of emotional response was known as blunted effect, and it never meant anything good about the subject’s emotional health.

“That’s why I wanted to record this moment of misery on photo. Tomorrow, whatever happens, you will survive. And when you do, I want you all to take a good look at your tragic mugs and laugh at what you see there. Sergeant, if you please ...”

Before long, what the lieutenant most desired began to happen. It was like magic, that strange phenomenon called morale. As they began to jockey for position with a pair of kneeling Mocas as backdrop, directed only sparingly by their section commanders (as he’d ordered them to), some cross-talk began to take place among them. Then someone made a joke (Rosa) and there was an outburst of laughter. From that moment onwards it didn’t matter that their lips cracked and bled with the effort; quick grins covered their faces almost entirely, expressions softened and the motley crew reverted to their natural selves in no time at all.

He observed them carefully.

Rosa stood beside Miura at the back, plugging his nose theatrically and complaining at the stench of urine that apparently emanated from his fellow driver. He was quite the entertainer. On Miura’s other side, Tani also seemed to be keeping her distance, although perhaps for some other reason, he supposed. Besides Tani, the troop’s left flank was almost entirely composed of Miura affiliates, as he’d begun to think of them as. Winters, Hirum, Rosa, and the remainder of section one, sans Kimble, seemed to have clumped together into a group, the Boy with Strange Golden Eyes at its center. Miura hadn’t as yet rotated into interim command of a mission, but Templeton had noticed over the comms how many had deferred to him when in doubt, even the Kimble character, although Miura often seemed as much at a loss as the remainder. Perhaps there was more to him than appeared at first sight, he thought.

Then again, perhaps not.

Ian didn’t think twice and pitched a tent in the center, no one appearing to object to that at all. That didn’t even qualify as ambition by afterthought; Templeton knew Ian was only thinking about how the Old Man would react if he saw his grandson in any position other than front-and-center. No one clumped around him.

The blonde cadet kept his face tightly disciplined as his platoon-mates positioned themselves to his flanks and rear, as if he were being surrounded by the enemy but was too polite to frown about it.

Tactical monster
, Templeton considered. He cursed his older brother yet again for what he had done to his own son. The boy was probably damaged beyond repair, although the lieutenant was still impressed by the fact that no one had yet perished at his hands.

Templeton took a few stills and recordings, participating good-naturedly in the banter before handing the cam to a friendly footman. The platoon posed and then posed again, the level of noise beginning to attract unwanted attention from nearby ASC drivers. The lieutenant hushed the troop at once and sent the majority to the waiting line to top up their Suits. Discreetly he called Miura aside.

“We need to talk a moment, Miura. Got the time?”

“Nothing but time, sir. Have I done something wrong?”

The lieutenant chuckled.

“Why is it every time I call a cadet aside, he think he’s about to get squeezed? No, as far as I know you haven’t done anything wrong. Tell me how things have been going for you ...”

That seemed to give the driver some pause for thought.

“Well,” he finally said, “we’ve been on the move non-stop for twenty days, never knowing the enemy’s location. I and my mates are in the same platoon, but today is the first time I’ve seen their faces since Lograin, they look as bad as I feel, and some of them look worse. I’m not even sure what day of the week it is, or where I currently find myself besides some position on some map, and no one else knows any better. I stink all over, I itch all over, I haven’t washed since MEWAC and I feel like I have sticky paste covering my body and gun oil in my hair. Other than that I’m OK.”

The lieutenant inclined his head in consideration, letting the sarcasm slide.

“The Moca’s operating system is a bit simple.” he conceded, “That’s to be expected, seeing as it was meant to be supported by an equally simple CPU. Has something to do with the price-tag, I guess. But the map is there and it is accurate. Trust me on that. As for where the enemy is, is it really that important to you?”

Miura nodded silently.

“All right,” he sighed, “We are currently forty clicks closer to the Unmil than any UAVs have come before and less than four hours march from the mine plantation. We have some reports there was a heavy disturbance around these parts a few months ago, heavy enough to cause a brand new dawn-wave to propagate over the continent. The Research Hubs compiled all the data pertaining to the event and processed it. The point is they figured the dawn’s cerne to be about three hundred clicks to our east, give or take a hundred.

“My guess is, if the enemy’s around these parts, he’s going to notice our presence here. Which is why from now on Main Force will be moving in battle line instead of column. That is also why LOGIS will be marching half a click behind the ASC. Today’s grove was a good catch, it was what we were needing. From now on there’ll be no grove-hunting, we’ll be operating on what we have. Feel any better?”

“Actually, yes sir. I was beginning to feel like this could go on forever.”

The lieutenant grinned.

“Rest assured that if our Commander had decided to not jaunt to Lograin, it would have. But that’s not the reason why I wanted to talk to you. Who are you paired up with?”

“Grimm. Unit Four, sir.”

“Not anymore. You’ll pair up with Fourteen while Four assists Brother One. Understood?”

Miura’s disappointment was hard to miss.

“I ... Yes sir. Why?”

The lieutenant sighed heavily.

“Listen, Miura. I’m sure you’ve noticed already that Hirum’s having it hard out here. He’s going to need someone he knows and respects beside him to keep him in line. You realize that, don’t you?”

“Yes sir. It’s just that ... well, I –” Miura began.

“You just want to be a hero. Right, I get that, except for the fact that you’re not authorized to be a hero. That’s the true nature of military service. Shitty assignments. I hate them as much as you and I do everything I can to stay away from them. But they’re still assignments and they need to be done, otherwise I foresee Hirum will screw up so bad he’ll either get himself killed, get everyone else killed, get himself court-martialed, or a combination of the above. You’re his mate, right?”

“Yes ...”

“I’ll arrange to open a private channel so you can talk only between the two. That should make it easier for you. But you’ve got to keep him engaged. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir, I’ll get it done.” His subordinate finally answered, apparently resigned to his fate.

“Excellent. Now get a meal in your belly. And wash. You smell like you’ve spent the last three weeks living in a latrine.”

*****

Toni gave Unit Seven a cold, hard look. It stared back at him as placidly as ever, its expression a study in neutrality. Toni remembered how at first he had thought it looked somewhat wrathful in appearance. Now it appeared almost fearful, although perhaps he was simply seeing his own emotions reflected there. The Suit was currently lightly armored, and it was certainly armed about as well as he could have hoped for, but the array of weaponry still looked woefully inadequate when he considered what he’d been seeing over the net. Leiben had been solidly creamed from afar and drones had fallen like confetti from the sky. Yet they were expected to get up close and personal with the attackers, a military force whose exact location, strength and number of bodily appendages was entirely unknown. And just how exactly were they supposed to engineer a victory?

He took out a thick pen he’d commandeered in Lograin and hopped up onto the unit’s right knee. Approaching its forearm, he began to write on it, trying hard to make the lettering square and legible.

“Finally found a name for it?” He heard from below as he finished up. It was Ray.

“Not quite ...”

“I’m calling mine MAY REVENGE. What do you think?”

“Sounds appropriate, I guess ...”

Toni hadn’t even considered naming his Suit. Somehow he didn’t feel connected to it enough to do so. He had always thought it would be a Hammerhead he’d eventually be naming, anyway. Ray turned his head, reading the print out loud.

“I AM NOT AUTHORIZED TO BE A HERO. What?” He asked, puzzled.

“It’s just something the ell-tee told me. It’s to remind me of what I have to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m a baby-sitter, I guess ...” Toni sighed, and he explained what had happened only an hour before.

“Jeeesh ... Hirum?” Ray exclaimed once he’d finished.

“Yup.”

“That’s bad luck for you, Tones. Escort detail on your own mate. But you still drew resupply, so don’t bitch about it too much. I’m gonna be in the rear-end digging emplacements and stretching wires while you’re having a ball, so it’s not all bad. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and see some action ...”

“Yeah. Lucky ...” Toni mused.

“You all right?”

“Yes. Listen, how’re things going in sec-three? Your sarge putting up for you?”

“Jorren? Every time he sees us, he gets this expression like he’s disgusted or something and looks away. It’s beginning to piss me off. I might just have words with him about that ...”

Toni grinned. Had he known Ray for only a day, he might have taken him seriously, but he had since learned that if his mate had a straight face, it was probably because he was screwing around. No cadet would dare “have words” with their section commanders; that was a conversation that would never happen. They all knew the ex-ASC drivers were ticked off for having been pulled from their company in the eve of Capicua’s first battle.

“Yeah, you do that. They’re full of themselves, they are. Need to be put in their places. And what of the special one?”

“Hell, forget about him, Tones, he’s not messing up. Sueli’s the one pissing me off. Sickness is her natural state now, though every once in a while she goes into remission. Right now Hannah, Ian and I are sec-three’s only operational units, except for the sarge, of course. And we’re all that’s needed, you know. That Hannah’s a real trooper. She’s the best looking femme as well, now that Sueli’s gone three shades of green. I –”

Ray cut off whatever he had been about to say. As Hannah approached she tripped over a shrub, letting off a girlish squeal quickly followed by an embarrassed smile. Toni realized what Ray had meant; having lost only a kilo or two, she didn’t have the almost emaciated look of Rakaia and especially Sueli, and as such her complexion wasn’t much the worse for wear. Her eyes, pale as always and a little tired, nevertheless expressed some enjoyment at her predicament. And she seemed as yet completely untouched by fear.

“Hi, Toni. Can we talk?” She asked.

Toni’s brow twitched at the question.

“Arright, I’m gonna get some sleep. See ya later, Tones. You too, Khaki ...” Ray declared with a twisted smile on his face, giving Hannah a brotherly clap on the shoulder she seemed not to notice. They waited silently until he was out of earshot.

“Khaki?” Toni remarked with a smile.

“Arakaki. Khaki. It’s his way.” She answered distractedly, refusing to meet Toni’s eyes for a moment.

“Ahuh. He likes you.”

“Shut up, ok? I’m here about Rakaia.”

“Oh.”

“Are you angry with her?” She asked bluntly.

Now that he thought about it, he had never had a one-to-one conversation with Hannah before.

“No, far from it. I think it was me who screwed up, actually, though I don’t want to get into details ...” he answered carefully.

“Good, I don’t wanna hear about it.” She said evenly, before pushed on.

“Point is, Rakaia’s got some issues to deal with so she can be a little ... uh, brittle, sometimes. I know that and she knows it too. And I’ll admit whatever happened in med bay is none of my business. So I guess I’ll just be direct. Do you like her?”

“No. I mean I like her, but not that way. I mean, hell, she’s as well equipped as any I’ve seen so maybe I was checking her out a bit, but ... can I shut up now?” He finished, hating himself to the core.

Hannah’s slender eyebrows had perked up just a little at his reference to equipment, but she hadn’t said anything. She considered his reply for a while.

“OK, it’s simple then. You’ve apologized, from what I heard. She accepts your apology but says for you to keep your distance, you fucking pervert. Not my words.” She added with a smile.