Read Outsystem (Aeon 14) Online
Authors: M. D. Cooper
“Why I don’t put my boot up your collective asses and send you home is beyond me. However, it
is
nice to have a team that volunteers as bait. It also means that I don’t need to get too attached to you assholes since you’re all going to die soon.” They took it well, like Marines.
“Next time one of you decides to start commenting on a firefight when we are maintaining a tactical silence, pretend you can’t, cause once more and you’ll all be physically incapable of communication!” He spat on the ground and took a deep breath. “You got me one/two?”
“Yes, Staff Sergeant.” The response was quick and in perfect unison.
“Good, go swap places with two/one. You’re on the left flank now. Don’t let me down.” After a verbal beating it was never a bad thing to give the team some responsibility. They’d be all the more eager to prove themselves proper
soldiers.
“I think Taylor’s gonna be numb for a week.” Sergeant Kowalski walked toward Williams after sending Jansen on point again. “Becker estimates we got thirteen baddies. Hard to say for sure—he was counting heads, but he thinks he could be plus or minus one. I guess some of the heads didn’t make it too well.”
Williams nodded. “Taylor’s right about one thing. There’s a reason they don’t hand out guns like that in the corps.”
“We gonna get a talkin’ to from the brass for using ’em?” Kowalski asked.
“Maybe…hopefully they’ll take it as a fighting-fire-with-fire situation.”
“Well”—Kowalski grinned—“It’s your ass, not mine.”
“Thanks for the support.”
Combat net indicated that squad three was in position and waiting on first and second to make it to their ready point.
The facility was a squat two-story building with several outlying power transfer and storage sheds. Jansen’s team silently took out four sentries and set up a covering position behind a power transfer shed that hid their EMF signature. Williams directed the two slug-throwing teams to set up positions at the northwest and southwest corners of the building. Squad three had the rear of the structure covered. Williams settled down behind a storage shed and scanned the combat net. The assault was scheduled for t-minus 6 minutes
according to the clock ticking on his HUD.
Two/one would cover with the heavies and provide additional backup. Squad one was taking the front door. Two fireteams from squad three would secure the rear rooms of the facility and catch any escapees.
The count crept down toward zero as he scanned the facility. The enemy had to know the attack was imminent. Nothing showed, but he was certain that behind most if not all the second-floor windows were enemy troops all too ready to rain hell down on the Marines.
He saw movement behind one window in particular and passed the information along to two/one, noting with approval how Corporal Salas assigned the target and also had PFC Reddy run the intel over to Chang’s heavy team. A man was spotted on the roof and Salas took care of that target as well.
Thirty seconds remaining.
Taylor’s fireteam was to be first in, with Dvorak holding back until the facility was secured. They’d need him to hack the systems the brass was so interested in, and Williams needed to keep him breathing for that little event.
Squad one’s teams were moving now, slow and silent, keeping to lanes out of sight of the building’s windows. A moment later Taylor was at the door, setting a shape charge before flattening himself against the wall.
The sound was muffled; most of the blast erupted inside the building.
Marine boots smashed into the door’s remains and knocked them inward. A flash and a conc rolled in and one/one was back against the wall as the whine of railguns charging echoed out of the opening. No fire came; instead curses erupted from within the building.
The other two teams in squad one weren’t sitting idle. While the front door action was underway they were breaching ground floor windows. A gunner leaned out of the window Williams had noted earlier and PFC Altair burned a hole through his head. At the same moment Reddy took out the man on the roof with a shot from one of the commandeered railguns.
Before the sounds of pain within the building died down, one/one was through the doors, their IR scan showing the locations of the radicals inside; with three quick shots the entrance was secured.
Williams rose from his position and followed the squad into the building—time to finish the job.
STELLAR DATE
: 3227171 / 08.06.4123 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION:
Marine Troop Transport En-Route to TSS Normandy Orbiting Venus.
REGION: Terran Hegemony, Sol Space Federation
“So, we’re being sent to Mars.” Grenwald addressed his NCOs after wrapping up their post-op review on the transport back to the
TSS Normandy
.
“What’s going on there?” Sergeant Li asked. “Aren’t they usually pretty particular about anyone else doing a job they think their vaunted MSF can handle?”
“Wouldn’t know about that,” Grenwald said. “We’re not going to the surface, but to the Mars Outer Shipyards where they’re building that big colony ship, the
Intrepid
. They’ve got a major and an admiral with some sort of trouble that needs Marine boots to fix.”
“
Intrepid,
eh?” Williams grunted. “That’s the ship that Redding guy made the new super ramscoop for right? Supposed to be one hell of a ship.”
Green leaned his seat back and stretched. “I don’t really see what they would need us for, sir. Do they need us to shoot a contractor or something?”
Grenwald shrugged. “Not in the brief. I caught wind that they pulled up an MCSF from Mars 1 and have a couple companies of regulars running security for the ship.”
“Great,” Li groaned. “We’ve got to play nice with regulars? You know they’re not really our biggest fans. Plus, they’ve already got
MCSF to wipe people’s asses. That’s their specialty.”
“She has a point,” Williams said. The 8
th
Battalion of the 242 was Force Recon Orbital Drop; the TSF usually didn’t deploy them to stations. The TSF usually didn’t
want
them on stations. “What good are FROD Marines going to be at babysitting a construction job?”
“Well, as it turns out we were specially requested. I guess some of the folks on that ship have pull.”
“Who made the request?” Sergeant Green asked.
“Some MICI major named Richards.” The lieutenant sounded dismissive. “Probably just some hopped-up OCS brat who wants more attention than she deserves.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Williams grinned at Kowalski, who had been with the platoon ten years ago when Major Richards, then a lieutenant colonel, was temporarily the de-facto commander of their battalion. “If she’s involved, and called for us, we’re going into the fire.”
“You can say that again.” Kowalski nodded.
“This major’s been demoted?” Grenwald asked. “Is she
that
Tanis Richards?”
“One and the same,” Williams nodded.
“Great, so we’re going to the MOS under the command of some nut-job Micky major?” Sergeant Green rubbed his face with frustration.
“Hey.” Kowalski smacked him on the back. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“Who cares about that?” Li was accessing data on the MOS over her Link. “There are absolutely
no
good bars on that shipyard!”
STELLAR DATE: 3227179 / 08.14.4123 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION:
Mars Outer Shipyards (MOS)
REGION:
Mars Protectorate, Sol Space Federation
“Major Richards!” Terry Chang called out as Tanis entered the SOC.
“Miss Chang, I’m guessing you’ve word regarding our uninvited visitors.” Tanis walked up to the woman, who was clutching a sheet of plas tightly.
“Do I ever! I traced the mercs’ organization and located the person in their organization who brokers the deals. The name is Daiki Tanaka; he or she operates out of Cruithne Station. There’s a drop on a regional Mars surface net if you want to make contact with them. I’ve forwarded the protocols to your personal net.”
Tanis reviewed the information. “Excellent. Good work, Miss Chang; we’ll get somewhere with this yet.”
“Yes, sir.” Terry smiled and turned back toward the entrance to her labs.
Tanis found it amusing how the civilians had started calling her sir; it didn’t take long for the military way of things to take over.
Commander Evans poked his head into Tanis’s office. “Major, not sure if this is your cup of tea or not, but one of my pilots has a few spare tickets to the InnerSol championship game between High Terra and Mars 1.”
Tanis looked up at Evans. “Championship game for what?”
The commander sputtered for a moment. “The uh…you really don’t know?”
“Sorry, sports aren’t really my cup of tea.”
“Uh…I see.” He gave her a look like she had two heads. “It’s only the first time in over a hundred years that High Terra has made it into the InnerSol finals. It’s only going to be the most amazing football game ever.”
Tanis shook her head. “Not my
idea of a great time, but I do have something for you to do while you’re down there.”
Commander Evans’ look was completely unreadable.
STELLAR DATE
: 3227182 / 08.17.4123 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION:
Mars Outer Shipyards (MOS)
REGION:
Mars Protectorate, Sol Space Federation
“We’ve got the response.” Ouri sat down across from Tanis’s desk and dropped a secure sheet of hyfilm in front of the major.
“Positive I hope.” Tanis passed a token over the SOC net to the hyfilm. Its contents were scrambled and took a moment to render
before Tanis’s eyes.
“We’ve got a meeting at a bar on Cruithne Station called ‘The Human Condition’,” Ouri summarized.
“Odd name...”
Ouri shrugged. “I guess so. So who are you sending out there?”
“Sending?” Tanis asked. “I’m more interested in going.”
“Going? You can’t be serious…sir.” Ouri tacked on the honorific after catching a raised eyebrow from Tanis.
“I am indeed serious. Things are quiet at the moment and I intend to take advantage of that. I’ll never be more than a few light minutes away. I’ll be certain to keep a laser comm trained on the
Intrepid.
”
“The admiral will never clear you for it.”
Tanis smiled and Ouri knew she wasn’t going to like the response.
“The admiral never has to know.”
STELLAR DATE
: 3227185 / 08.20.4123 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Cruithine Station
REGION: InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Tanis looked out the porthole at Cruithne Station as the transport matched velocities with the asteroid habitat. There really wasn’t much asteroid visible anymore, though here and there a bit of raw rock did show between spurs and domes. Originally merely an aggregation of ice and iron no more than five kilometers across, the station had expanded far beyond those bounds into a sprawling structure over one hundred kilometers long. Her access to the structural design showed that none of the original asteroid remained.
Normally once the resources from such a stellar body were exhausted there would be no further reason for mankind to remain, but Cruithne orbited the sun in resonance with Earth, always on the same side of Sol. Depending on where it was in its year it was either accelerating away from earth, or Earth was accelerating toward it. The result was a very useful location for transporting shipments in and out of InnerSol. In addition Cruithne also crossed the orbit of Venus and Mars from time to time, further adding to its list of useful locations.
This was one of those times when Cruithne would come very close to Mars and the trip only took two days, something Tanis was grateful for as the transport she was on wasn’t at all passenger-friendly. The crew was even less so. They were either ignoring her, or coming on to her. Tanis had gained a great familiarity with the walls of her berth.
When the shipnet announced a seal and equalization Tanis was moving down the corridor before the station rules finished posting. She wasn’t terribly worried about them, other than the fact she was certain to break some.
Cruithne fell under the jurisdiction of the InnerSol portion of the stellar federation, but only nominally. It was owned and run by an old family of traders, and had been for as long as anyone could remember. They were wealthy and not overly concerned about scruples. The combination made for a station that looked like it was out of the vids from the early third millennium. It was readily apparent that one of the reasons the family was so wealthy was that they didn’t bother with preventative maintenance…or cleaning.
Tanis moved out onto the dock and immediately had to navigate around an argument between the ship’s supercargo and a repair crew. It seemed that the crew was repairing part of the life-support system at the transport’s berth. The main cargo hatch was completely blocked off by conduit hanging from the ceiling like vines in a jungle, and more than a dozen pulled-up deck plates.
After circumventing the mess, Tanis logged on to the station net while Angela chatted up the traffic and mass balancing AI for information. She checked the public areas to see if there were any alerts or warnings that would affect her plans before beginning a slow circuit of the station.
Even though she didn’t expect any—or much—trouble, knowing the lay of the docks and where clever hiding places or distractions could be found was never a bad thing. More than one vendor hauling carts filled with random trinkets and knickknacks trundled along the dock. A larger than average population of greasy food carts was also in evidence. She suspected that some of them must be doing double duty both keeping a lookout and smuggling items onto various ships.
Tanis was undercover, her net presence and ID switched to a new record that Angela and Ouri had set up. She was certain that they had picked this particular disguise as a joke or some sort of punishment for overworking them.
She was masquerading as a Golist, a religious sect of quasi-cyborgs who believed in reaching enlightenment by minimizing motion and being at peace with oneself. They also were fierce traders. The religion’s roots were an odd combination of capitalism and Taoism.
Because she wasn’t a cyborg, the sect’s regular attire was not comfortable at all. Ironically the part of her that was the most comfortable was her head where nearly all of her skin had been removed.
Covered in a silver metal, with only a sliver of skin around her right eye still in place, her head had a slightly ovoid shape. The liquid steel
that covered it could take any form, but the standard pose was a totally expressionless mask with no mouth, nose, or ears.
<
I think the look is good on you,>
Angela said.
Her body was covered in a polymer that coated her like a second skin, which was somewhat uncomfortable as it really wasn’t meant to wear over skin, but typically in place of it. She had opted for the temporary discomfort as re-growing the skin on her face was going to itch enough as it was; she could suffer a few days to save the weeks of itching and scratching across her entire body. The glossy white covering was largely inflexible; not that strange since the Golists deplored excess motion. Tanis had allowed for more movement in the arms than was typical, but her legs were essentially straight as a beam and ended in fine points that hovered several inches off the deck. It took a good bit of power to achieve that effect, which meant that most
of her thigh muscle was waiting for her back on the
Intrepid
, the area it usually occupied now filled with SC batteries.
An itch began to twinge way behind Tanis’s right knee.
They passed several Golists and Tanis passed tokens to them, their avatars nodding serenely to one another on the general net.
Angela asked.
Tanis spent a few hours working her way through the commercial district, identifying several routes from the bar where she was to meet the contact to the vessel she would be leaving on. She also checked calendars on the local nets to ensure that no maintenance or large shipments of cargo would get in her way.
Eventually the time for the meeting drew near and Tanis made her way to The Human Condition. She was not entirely certain she wanted to see the reason the venue went by that name.
Tanis entered the bar and crossed to where the servitor, a human in this case, was busy pouring drinks. The place was clean, the walls a gleaming white, the décor mostly steel and plas. All in all it was pretty stark, meant to draw the eye to the fact that the tables and chairs were made of humans. Not dead humans by any means, but live humans, mostly with little modification, and a lot of clamps and rods holding them in place.
The scene brought back memories of Toro—images of people turned into things, artwork and worse, flashed through her mind.
<
I already have; all of these people are paid employees. Paid fairly well at that.>
Tanis considered what had been required for her current cover.
There were several dancers at various stages between human and things decidedly not human slithering up and down poles, and in one case, mostly embedded in the pole. Tanis observed with Golist serenity, admiring the dancers’ wholesale devotion to their expression by merging their human physicality with an expression of inner self. Privately Tanis reaffirmed her
position that some people’s inner selves were just weird.
Tanis closed her eye—the other was currently covered over by her flowmetal—and calmed herself, exuding a zen-like peace as she waited for her contact to arrive. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t paying attention to what was around her. One of the advantages of the fluid metallic covering was that she had optical sensors all around her head, giving her a 360-degree view of the bar. She wondered if it would be possible to retain the ability after this mission, depending on whether the TSF let her keep the flowmetal—something she considered unlikely.
As Tanis surveyed the scene, one of the dancers caught her eye and she watched the person move around a series of poles near the center of the establishment. She wasn’t entirely certain if it was male or female, or if such designations even applied. It appeared to have no bones, or if it did, none were evident. The dancer’s general shape was that of a lithe woman, but it was totally asexual, and while it often bent at what would normally be the locations of joints, at other times entire limbs became fluid and snakelike.
As its dance progressed, Tanis saw that it was also able to change the overall dimensions of its body, almost as though its skin were no more than a stretchy membrane. Its stomach distended at one point, and then it grew breasts, moments later to lose them and become smooth and featureless again. Its head would swell and become conical and narrow and wrap around a pole before thickening and resuming the shape of a normal human skull.
Tanis had to admit she was impressed; whoever this dancer was, it had some of the most extreme modifications she had ever seen. If it wasn’t for the abstract beauty of the dance, Tanis would have thought the creature wasn’t human at all. Dance was something that could always betray a lack of humanity. Any machine or AI would inevitably have some evidence of math or an artificial lack of math in its dance. It was something that was hard to spot, but Tanis had watched enough dancing to know there was a certain element to organic dance and expression was not something a machine could replicate.
Tanis countered.
<
Well those people certainly don’t crave that.>
Angela referred to the human furniture pieces.
Tanis laughed; not outwardly, her face currently having no mouth, but she found Angela’s ever-prosaic attitude amusing.
They continued their silent observation of their surroundings until a message came over the establishment’s local net informing Tanis that their contact was waiting for them in the rear of the bar. The message contained directions to a dressing room. She hovered past the other patrons to a hall in the rear and through a door with the label “Adrienne” on it.
The inside of the room was plush and opulent, a distinct difference from the austere look of the common area outside. There were several holo mirrors, showing a 360-degree view as Tanis stood in the center of the space waiting for her contact to show up.
The lack of a second exit unnerved her and she assessed the structure of the walls to see if she could break through them if needed. They were little more than a thin plas and she determined that with a few blasts of a pulse rifle she could create an additional exit should the need arise. The moments ticked by and then the door opened, revealing the identity of Adrienne.
It was the fluid dancer. She—“Adrienne” seemed to imply gender—slinked into the room, passed Tanis and sprawled onto a mound of cushions, her form melting over them.
“You must be Yora,” the woman said. I am Adrienne, as you may have guessed.”
A connection presented itself over a secure Link; Tanis opened it and responded.
“So, to the point and without pleasantries. Normal, I suppose, for one of your type. You sculpt yourselves into paragons of beauty and power and then abstain from pleasure entirely. I, personally, would not be able to resist.”