March of War

Katja opened her eyes, bracing for a visual chaos which matched the Cloud assault in her mind. Jack was seated across from her at the café table, watching her with maddeningly sympathetic eyes. All around them, the bustle of the busy shopping concourse throbbed with visual advertising messages, audible speech chatter, and the incessant interaction of average Centauri citizens in person and in the Cloud.

She’d thought the Terran Cloud had been busy, but in reality it was still in proto form, comprised of blind electronic messages from an ignorant populace. Here on Abeona, every man, woman, and child could access the Cloud consciously as part of their daily routine. The result was a thunderstorm of noise that made her head hurt. Yet Jack just sat there, looking completely at ease—and even a little sorry for her.

“How can you stand this?” she muttered.

He shrugged, glancing here and there at their surroundings. The café spilled out into the covered concourse, and sunshine streamed in through the glass ceiling high above. Trees formed a line down the middle of the mall, around which hundreds of shoppers padded by quietly on the treated softstone.

“It’s neat,” he said. “They’re so open in their chatter and yet at the same time so sophisticated with their networks. I can really keep my finger on the pulse here.”

Most of the tables around them were occupied by students from the local university, and Jack very much blended in with his boyish looks and casual attire. Katja wasn’t fooled by his appearance, though. This kid had come a long way since his days as a pilot. He was smart, insightful and, in his own way, tough as nails. If he could just lose his moralizing, she might actually like him again.

Or, to be more accurate, if he’d just stop reminding her about morality, she’d have an easier time liking herself. His presence was distracting in a most unwelcome way, and she hardened herself against the intrusion. Today was their first major excursion, and she needed them both to be focused.

On the table between them were a large coffee and a disposable news reader, but they were just props.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to focus on the mission?”

“Definitely,” he said, “and in a crowded place like this no one will ever notice my activity. Even if Centauri security detects what I’m doing, they won’t be able to pinpoint me among all this.” He gestured vaguely at the hubbub around them.

“Okay,” she said, rising to her feet. “Just don’t start chatting with the college girls and forget about me.”

“Never, dear.”

<Yep.> He nodded, then gave her a playful smile. <No kiss, to warn off the college girls?>

She weaved her way through the tables and out onto the concourse. The noise from the Cloud actually started to give her a headache, and she projected barriers in her mind to fend off the bombardment. Heading for the nearest exit, she gratefully breathed in a deep lungful of fresh air as the shopping mall faded behind her. It was only a short walk back to their apartment, and within minutes she was safely secured in the car. A quick check confirmed that all her gear was still in the rear cargo space. She programmed her destination into the vehicle and let it drive itself, freeing her to focus.

The wide streets of Starfall drifted past, fading eventually to the countryside. Out here the Cloud was much more manageable. Katja dropped the barriers and began examining the live data that was leaking out from her target—a Navy munitions depot tucked discreetly in one of the vast forests stretching away from the city. All security systems appeared to be operating in normal mode, and she located the interrogation from the depot to an approaching convoy. It was an expected resupply shipment, arriving on schedule two days before the departure of a squadron of frigates currently in orbit.

Her hope was that the personnel at the depot would be occupied with the convoy, and not as attentive to other areas of the compound.

Katja opened her eyes as the car pulled to a stop in the artificial clearing of a local hiking hub. She surveyed the smooth grass of the parking lot, noting only three other vehicles nearby. One of them was open and the occupants were busy unloading camping gear. No one even gave a glance in her direction. Shutting down, she leaned forward in her seat, staring at the dark dashboard and focusing her mind on the vehicle’s computer brain.

It was still active, although most systems were shutting off in the wake of the power-down. As practiced back at the apartment, she zeroed in on the command channel, giving the computer a series of sharp orders to keep it active for another few seconds. As it processed her signals, she took hold of the locator beacon and severed its connection. Then she commanded the beacon to lock onto its current location, and remain static.

A moment later, the computer shut down completely.

Leaning back in her seat, she looked around the small clearing again. The group had gathered their gear and were heading out along one of the trails. She reached out with all her senses and confirmed that there was no one else around, then started her car again and drove slowly back to the road.

<I’m underway again,> she signaled.

<Roger,> Jack replied. <Traffic sensors still report you as stationary in the campsite parking lot.>

<Good—how does the depot look?>

How Jack was able to tap into the Centauri Cloud so easily remained a mystery to her, but there was no doubt that Korolev had chosen well for this mission. Mallory might still be a horny, happy-go-lucky kid with far too much forgiveness in his soul, but he’d proven his abilities as they tested the Centauri security systems.

No, she chastised herself, she was being unfair. War had changed him, made him grow up fast. His smiles still came easily, and humor laced most of his words, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. It was easy to remember the young punk she’d met nearly two years ago, who’d drooled after Breeze and then after Katja herself. That boy was gone, she knew.

And although it was hard to admit, he was already better in the Cloud than she was. She’d always be able to kick his ass physically—the thought brought a sudden smile—but it was good to know that he was there, backing her up.

Driving the car on manual another few kilometers down the road, she finally turned off to follow a narrow path through the trees, just far enough to obscure the car from the road. If questioned, she was a solo hiker out exploring some new trails, and oh my—is there really a military installation so close by? She’d been practicing her cute face on Jack for the past few days, and his reactions told her she was definitely learning how to charm.

Katja stepped out of the vehicle, slipped on her backpack, and hefted the “fishing rod case” in her arms. A small hatch on the underside opened to give her access to the trigger of her assault rifle. A pair of pistols and a cluster of grenades were also inside the case, weighing it down, but at least she was armed and ready for an ambush.

The trail made for easy progress into the forest. After a few hundred steps she paused, reaching into the Cloud. Confirming her position, she stepped off the trail and into the underbrush, moving slowly over the uneven ground, trying to keep the sounds of her passage indistinguishable from the gentle rustle of the wind through the leaves. The odd chirp or hiss reminded her of the small, indigenous animals scurrying underfoot, but she knew them to be harmless. Through the trees ahead, she could see the sunlight beaming down on open ground.

At the edge of the trees, she crouched down and unlatched the fishing case, senses scanning the long line of military fencing. She donned her pistol belt, fastened each holster to her hips, then hooked the four grenades over the base of her back. Drawing out the assault rifle, she checked ammunition and then slipped the harness over her shoulders, snapping the rifle into place against her chest.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so heavily armed, and it felt good. The time for disguises was over.

<In position at the treeline,> she said, flashing her exact coordinates to Jack.

<Roger. The convoy is starting to load up, so a lot of the guards have been pulled into close support around the trucks.>

<No, you’re clear. Let me distract the roving patrol.>

Suddenly there was chatter between the depot’s main building and a pair of anti-personnel robots hidden off to the left. She shivered as she thought of those silver war machines rolling across the ground on their twin tracks, weapons pods tracking any movement. It had been a long time, but some memories didn’t fade.

<Roving patrol moving to the far side of the compound,> Jack reported. <I gave them a minor alert against the fence.>

<Yes.>

Katja rose to her feet and jogged low across the open grass.

Her heavy backpack jostled with the movement and the grenades slapped against her back.

<Sensors disabled,> he replied, <clear to insert.>

Slowing to a trot as the fence loomed before her, Katja activated the anti-grav pockets on her boots. She pushed off the ground and sailed into the air, clearing the top of the fence by an entire body length and still rising. Cursing, she deactivated the AG and let herself start to fall, then activated again to stop her downward acceleration. She thumped down against the ground, the micro anti-grav field shielding her from the weight of her gear, but not the momentum.

That caused her to topple forward, coughing in the dust as she slid on the hard dirt. Shutting off the AG she hauled herself up and dashed for the nearest grassy mound. The depot was dotted with such mounds, grass and dirt providing additional protection against the ammunition stored in the bunkers buried beneath.

Leaning against the soft vegetation, she took a moment to catch her breath. Here at the edge of the compound she could neither see nor hear the convoy loading up, but routine chatter in the Cloud indicated its bearing.

<I’m in the compound.>

<Okay, your target is the mound directly south of you.>

With a quick scan of the field of hillocks around her, she ran across the open ground and crouched down against the door of her target. She examined the security systems.

The display before her shifted, and she heard a series of heavy clicks behind the reinforced door. It hissed open a crack. She pushed it aside enough to slip in, then slammed it shut.

<I’m in the storage bunker.>

The locks on the door clicked shut again and she was surrounded by darkness and silence. Activating infra-red she scanned the black cavern. Most of the material was almost as cold as the air, but through the vague shapes she detected the power units of the micro-torpedoes stored on their racks. Unfastening her rifle from its harness clip, she brought it up to her eyeline and shuffled forward, scanning left to right. Pausing, she switched to quantum-flux and scanned again. The storage racks nearest to her revealed their forms in ghostly clarity, but the rest of the chamber faded from view.

She did a quick count of the torpedoes, then examined the nearest one resting in its bracket. It was nearly as long as her, and with one hand she could grab the entirety of its slender nose. The body of the weapon barely widened down its length, until the bulges of its engines at the end. She absently ran her fingers along its smooth, hard surface as her mind interrogated its electronic innards.

<This looks like what we came for,> she said after a few moments of study.

<Agreed.>

Through the glow of quantum-flux she examined the bracket and the locks around the weapon.

<Can you get it unlocked?> she asked.

<No,> Jack said after a pause. <I can’t access the individual locks—I think they’re local.>

Katja examined the lock again, reaching into its protocols.

She uncovered the trigger to release the lock and examined the signal it was programmed to receive. After a moment she replicated that signal and fired it in.

The clamps snapped open. The torpedo was free.

Slipping off her pack she reached in and retrieved a simple, civilian hover dolly. She switched it on and placed it under the torpedo, feeling the gravity-damping field take hold. The dolly indicated a lock, and she gingerly pushed upward, watching as the entire unit rose out of the bracket to hover in the darkness. With effort she pulled it free of the rack. The dolly might have absorbed gravity’s pull on the object, but it still had a lot of inertia and resisted her efforts to move it. Sweat was dripping into her eyes by the time she’d maneuvered the torpedo over to the door.

<Wait—there’s something activating.>

Katja froze. Around her she could sense the electronic hum of the storage equipment and environmental controls. And… there! A new energy signal on the far side of the dark room. She snapped her rifle free of its harness again.

Amid the gentle rush of air, she barely heard a skittering of metal taps against the floor. Something moved at the edge of her quantum-flux vision. It was low and fast, almost slithering between storage shelves.

<Visual,> she said. <Some kind of robot, I think.>

Data flooded her brain as Jack transmitted the latest info on the recent addition to the Centauri war machine arsenal. It was nicknamed the “milly,” and it was bad news.

She fired once. The blast erupted in front of her, sending her reeling backward as the shock wave of her explosive round impacted military armor. The milly charged forward, rearing up in front of her to reveal its underside. She dove behind her captured torpedo as darts pinged off the weapon’s hull. Returning fire beneath the hover dolly, she flinched as the dazzling glare of her rounds struck the robot. But as before, they didn’t penetrate its armor enough to do any real damage. She reached back to grab a grenade from her belt. It would be a bad idea in such a small space, but dying appealed less.

The milly suddenly stiffened, the chittering of its legs falling silent. The reared body sagged, then lowered to the floor and remained still.

She jumped up and readied herself by the torpedo again.

<Roger, stand by.>

The locks released again and a sliver of sunlight blinded her as the door hissed open. Deactivating quantum-flux, she blinked away the tears and forced her eyes up toward the light. It seemed an eternity before she peeked out through the narrow opening at the sun-drenched compound beyond.

<I’ve given the patrol another false reading on the far side.

They’re investigating, but I’m detecting a general increase in overall alert status—do you want to hold position?>

<No,> she said immediately. <The longer I’m here the more likely I’m detected—is my escape route clear now?>

<Yes.>

She pushed open the heavy door and eased the torpedo out into the fresh air. Slamming the door shut she wasted no time turning her cargo to skirt the grassy mound and point at the fence.

<I’ve resealed the storage,> Jack reported, <but it was noticed. There’s new chatter on the security net.>

Katja ignored her own Cloud inputs and leaned into her steady push of the torpedo toward the fence. It gained speed, sailing along at waist height over the hard dirt, until she had to jog to keep up.

<Approaching fence,> she sent him her position again.

Running under the torpedo she wrapped her arm around its body and activated her anti-grav pockets. With just a tap of her toes she felt herself rise slowly into the air, torpedo and dolly ascending with her. The fence loomed. She curled up her legs and whisked over the top, deactivated the anti-grav long enough to feel her own weight start to pull down the weightless torpedo, then used momentum to touch down in the grass and, with barely a stumble, start pushing her prize at a run for the safety of the trees.

Guiding the weapon at speed over uneven ground tasked her every sense, and she couldn’t focus enough to send Jack a message. He’d be panicking within moments, though, and she didn’t want him to do anything overt to distract the Centauri guards. So she activated her entanglement test signal. A second later she felt the warble in her chest as he responded. Now he knew she was still alive.

Gasping for breath she crashed the torpedo through the underbrush and dug her heels into the soft, loamy dirt to slow her cargo’s rush into the forest. Finally coming to rest, she looked back at the broken branches and twin heel-troughs. Leaving the torpedo on its dolly, she quickly smoothed over the troughs and snapped off the few small branches that hung limply. While she couldn’t remove all evidence of the passage, she could at least erase the most obvious signs.

A quick scan back toward the ammo depot revealed no immediate threats, but the increased radio traffic was obvious. Hopefully, the security stayed focused on the convoy and hunkered down in defensive positions. If she could complete the mission with zero casualties, she knew it would make Jack happy.

It bothered her that she wanted that.

With a few final heavy breaths, Katja took control of the dolly with one hand and gripped her assault rifle with the other. Time for a slow withdrawal.