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"Plan to fight, and plan to run. A warrior must be ready to do either." — Grandfather Twofeathers
The sun rose, heating the dew-laden ground and creating a low mist carpeting the landscape. Logan had already been up two hours. He'd taken the last watch of the night and done it alone, due to their uneven number. Lwao brought over some food, and they ate in silence watching the distant horizon as it lit up.
"Planet good," Lwao said. "Worth fighting for."
"I wish the politicians on Earth agreed." Some TriFly birds flew by in the distance, their wings seeming to blink as they passed. "Maybe once we get our people off-planet, the rest of Earth will finally see what we've lost here."
Lwao washed his rations down with some water. "Find people. Leave. Someone else fight."
Logan lifted his own water. "You won't get any arguments from me."
After finishing up, he put his armor on and made his way to the hangar. The Nomad was emerging from the rubble after all the work they'd done the previous night, and in the early morning light looked less damaged than it had first appeared. He signaled Samara on a closed channel. "Get everybody apart from the technicians to the hangar once they've eaten. I want to clear this ship before the morning is over."
"And Ogawa and Granger?" Samara's voice sounded heavy as though she was still half asleep.
"Get them analyzing any natural EM signals from the reconsat. You okay?"
"Havji gave me something supposed to help my shoulder, but it knocked me out. She pulled a double sentry duty last night to cover for me."
He let out a short laugh. "That lady never misses an opportunity. So, how's the shoulder?"
"Better."
"Where's Havji now?"
"In the tent I think. I haven't seen her yet."
"Okay, let her sleep."
"I took another look at the Reconsat data," Samara said.
Her tone put him on edge. "You found something?"
"Plenty of Corporate comms traffic, as expected. But I also spotted traces of several encoded highly compressed signals. From the location data, they seem to have come from our camp."
Logan's scalp itched. "Any idea of the source?"
"The data isn't precise enough to say."
"Can you decipher it?"
"Not with the equipment we have available. Maybe the Nomad computers would be able to."
"Better keep this to yourself too," he said.
"But what are we going to do? There's a traitor among us."
He had no answer. "Watch. Wait."
The others showed up a few minutes later, and he was soon busy directing the group and helping move the heavier parts of roof framing from the ship. It was mindless work but had to be done carefully so as not to cause more damage to the Nomad. Eventually, all the heavy beams had been removed, leaving nothing but lightweight debris covering the ship.
"Stand back, everyone. I'll fly her out."
Clambering inside, he flipped the thruster controls to start the engines. One by one they buzzed into life, and the ship vibrated around him. They didn't sound as crisp as they should, and he wondered if some of the dirt had gotten inside the turbines, but the noise wasn't harsh enough to abandon the attempt.
"Everyone clear?" he called to Samara.
"Go for it."
He checked the controls operated freely, hearing the servos whine as the thruster units rotated. Then he put them into takeoff position and eased the throttles higher. Metallic creaks filled the vehicle as it pulled against the remnants of the wrecked building. As he increased the thrust, the Nomad groaned, then lifted through the hole in what was left of the roof.
Pushing on the stick, he drifted the ship toward the clear area in front of the hangar. It twisted, the nose wrenching to the right as the airframe bucked like an unbroken stallion. The ground leaped at him, and his arm muscles tightened like straps as he fought to bring the ship back to level. As soon as it was, he jammed the throttles back, dropping to the ground. The landing gear protested at the force of the impact, and he powered down, swallowing deep breaths.
"That was easy," he said.
The others streamed out of the destroyed hangar, staying back as the turbines slowed. Havji emerged from the tent with a surprised look on her face, then started clapping. As he climbed out, the others joined in, and Malette shouted his usual "rusty nuts" battle cry. Even Granger and Ogawa made an appearance and joined in the moment of celebration.
Samara walked over. "Thought you'd lost your touch for a moment there."
Logan glanced at the ship. "There's a problem with the controls."
"Fixable?" Samara said.
"Ask me once I know what it is."
After everyone dispersed, he clambered on top of the transport. The way the ship had snapped to the right made him suspect a problem at the rear. It didn't take long to diagnose. The right rear turbine was fine, but the left unit had a bent actuator, and the cuff holding one end of it was mangled.
Havji watched as she ate her late breakfast and drifted over when he climbed down. "Find anything?"
Logan explained the problem. "We can print a replacement for the cuff, but too much load goes through the actuator. We'll need to locate a precision adjustment device."
Havji looked puzzled. "That sounds unlikely."
Logan smiled. "Commonly known as a big hammer. This used to be a mine, so it shouldn't be too hard." He switched on his comm-set. "I need everyone to look for a hammer. Something heavy if possible."
"That's a precision aircraft," Ogawa said. "Not a piece of mining equipment you can beat into submission with a big hammer."
"Thanks. I'll try remember that. Bring the RepliSys too."
Several others acknowledged and headed to the old mine buildings. There would be a rudimentary toolkit inside the Nomad, but it wouldn't contain anything capable of straightening the actuator, though it should have tools to help remove it.
After he retrieved the toolkit, he climbed back on the aircraft's tail and worked on the fasteners around the shaft access plate. Half an hour later Ogawa and Granger ambled over to the ship. They carried the RepliSys like it was a gold chest, complete with a couple of hammers balanced on top. Logan slipped down to ground level.
"Those any use?" Ogawa said.
One was a small nailing hammer, the other a more useful two-kilogram variety.
"Well done." He took the larger hammer and had them put the RepliSys in the Nomad's cargo area so he could connect it to the onboard power. It took only a few seconds to access the ship's store of design patterns and start printing the cuff.
"We found something else," Granger blurted out. "Come look."
Logan wanted to get on with the work, but something about their body language made him uncomfortable, and he followed them to the mine. Ogawa prized up a large piece of corrugated sheet propped against a remnant of wall.
"See." Granger grabbed a long, thin piece of PlaSteel bar and gestured at something piled on the ground.
It looked like a group of transparent eggshells, with spines sticking off them at weird angles. The ends were broken and surrounded by leathery skin fragments, bones, and cartilage from what appeared to be one or more TriFly birds. Had they been scavenging the strange eggs? They were opportunistic creatures that seemed to eat anything that didn't fight back. But it made no sense, and he opened a channel on his comm-link.
"Dr. Havji. Could you come to the mine, please?"
She acknowledged, and he turned his attention back to the shells. Granger poked one with the PlaSteel, and it fell apart.
"Leave them," Logan said. "The doctor's on her way."
"What do you think they are?" Ogawa said.
Havji strode up. Logan pointed to the shells, and she knelt for a closer look.
"It's not my field of expertise. But I'd say they're some type of animal molts." She stood. "Odd though. I wasn't aware there were any insectoids that large here."
"Me neither." He stared at the pile. "But this continent is still an unknown. I better get back. That shaft isn't going to straighten itself."
"What about those?" Granger pointed.
"Whatever made them, they're gone. We don't have time for scientific distractions." What he'd give to have Aurore here, berating him for such a comment. "But if you want to look for whatever made them while I repair the Nomad, feel free."
He returned to the ship with Havji following. Before they were out of earshot though, Ogawa muttered something about hunting bugs.
The actuator was almost free when Logan's comm-set buzzed.
"We've got some activity to the west." It was Samara. "I'm sending sentinels to take a look."
Logan was straddling the rear stubby wing holding the port turbine and scanned the terrain in that direction, but he didn't see anything, despite his relatively high vantage point. He switched his attention back to the ship and removed the last fastener holding the actuator. The arm should have come free, but the twist in the shaft had locked it in place, forcing him to pry it out.
Malette was on lookout duty, a hundred meters from the Nomad. "What the hell are those?"
Although Logan was wearing his comm-set, he'd taken off his armor to work and slid down to the floor holding onto the actuator. He grabbed his helmet and triggered the display to relay the signals from the Sentinels. The first view was a high shot that he couldn't make anything of, and he switched to the next.
The screen flipped. The creatures looked like nothing he'd ever seen—barrel-like with short, stubby legs and long snouts reminding him of an anteater. The overall appearance was something similar to a long-nosed pig, but unlike the Earth variety, they were covered in what appeared to be thick brown scales. A group of them were nuzzling in the scrub brush, digging at the roots of plants.
One reared up in alarm. Though he couldn't hear it, Logan imagined it squealing loudly. A group of other animals dashed into view and chased the now-startled "pigs."
The new creatures resembled dogs, with long legs, extended bony snouts, and thick necks and shoulders. Each had a large horn on its head, similar to a rhino's though smaller and unicorn-like. The horn's use became all-too-clear as a dog creature slammed into one of the pigs, stabbing through the bony plates.
The pig stumbled then balled itself up, so its defenses covered it almost completely. The scales sprang out from its skin, forming a prickly surface presumably meant to deter further attacks, but the dogs had scented blood, and the rest of the pack descended on the wounded animal as the other pigs scurried away.
"What were those?" Ogawa muttered over the comm-link. "That was horrible."
"Never seen them before," Logan said. "But life is always a fight. You say that was bad—what about the pointless slaughter we saw yesterday?"
"Curious," Havji said. "The dogs were quadrupedal, and the creatures they attacked had at least eight legs."
"So?" Malette grunted.
"All the larger lifeforms on Kwelengsen are six-legged," Havji continued. "These may be from a separate evolutionary lineage—possibly unique to this continent."
"Can we eat them?" Granger said over the comm-channel. "I'm tired of field rations."
Ogawa responded with a laugh. "Let's see you catch one."
The cuff had finished printing, so Logan grabbed the two-kilo hammer and carried the actuator shaft to the concrete pad of the destroyed hangar. Using the pulse laser built into his suit, he heated the metal, then laid it down and started pounding it straight against the concrete.
It wasn't the easiest of jobs as the cold concrete tended to suck the heat from the rod, making it hard to work the metal. After about an hour, he was happy it was straight enough not to bind, and carried it to the ship. Halfway there, Ogawa came to meet him.
"You said to let you know if the reconsat picked up any signals out of the ordinary."
"Anything significant?"
Ogawa shrugged and fell in beside him as he walked. "Probably not. There are a lot of EM signals farther inland, around the mountainous areas. They're frequent, but sporadic, and in the zero to three hundred megahertz range."
Logan thought for a moment. "Lightning storms?"
"That's my guess. I wouldn't have mentioned them, but you said not to discount anything."
Lightning was a common source of interference back on Earth, and the settlement's meteorology team frequently reported intense storms around the highlands. Most were far from the capital though and hadn't been studied in detail.
"That doesn't sound like it's—"
"High-flier coming in from the southeast," Malette yelled.
"Help me with this," he said to Ogawa, and they raced toward the Nomad.
He thrust the actuator into Ogawa's hands, then scrambled up the side of the Nomad. "Pass it up," he yelled.
She reached up, straining to lift it high enough for him to grab. "Got it. Now the cuff."
Ogawa tossed the heavy printed component to Logan.
"Okay. Go," he said.
A familiar thundering screech passed overhead, but he didn't bother to look up. It was a Futen. Leaning inside the open wing, he struggled to slot the actuator arm back in place. Despite his hammer work, it still resisted. In other circumstances, he'd have made an attempt to further straighten it, but that wasn't an option now.
There was a distant thud, as though some colossal beast had landed nearby, followed by the sound of a QuenchGun firing.
"Stay steady," Samara said. "Controlled bursts."
He couldn't help himself from checking. A line of drop-troops moved toward their camp, firing as they closed. Then he spotted a blur behind the troops—hard to see through the cloud of smoke the enemy soldiers had released, but something large was approaching.
"Damn." Logan triggered his comm-set. "That's a Mule. Heavily armored. Get everyone suited up and stay the hell out of its way."
He'd encountered the Mules before—huge four-legged mechanical vehicles that looked like grotesque spiders or crabs. He'd destroyed one, but it had taken a fully armed Futen assault ship to do it. A rocket streaked toward the giant vehicle. Someone had managed to get a launcher from the supply pods.
"Goddamn rusty nuts," Malette shouted. "Let's take these bastards."
Logan hesitated, feeling torn. They needed the Nomad to have a chance, but at the same time he should be fighting with the others. They had little hope against the Mule, even with their TACS armor.
"Concentrate QuenchGuns on the drop-troops," Samara shouted. "Leave the big thing for the rockets."
Someone ran out, positioning themselves by a rocky outcrop twenty meters from the Nomad. "How are you doing, Logan?"
It was Samara. She knew how important the Nomad was and was risking herself to protect it. Another figure joined her, and from the smaller stature, he guessed it was Havji.
"I need twenty minutes," he said.
"Make it less." Samara lifted a fat tube, aiming it at the Mule. A bright flash erupted from the back as the rocket shot toward the enemy vehicle.
Logan twisted back down, hammering the actuator into position. The cuff jammed, and he grabbed a wrench from the toolkit to force the fasteners onto the studs. They needed torquing to a specific level, but he didn't have the time or equipment. He'd have to tighten them by hand and trust his judgment.
A string of divots appeared in the Nomad's wing as shrieks of ricocheting needles bounced into the air around him. He did his best to ignore them, then heard a closer volley that must have been from Samara or Havji. One end of the shaft was secure. All that was left was to fix the other.
He reached out with the wrench again. As he did, a searing agony tore through his right arm—a needle had hit him. His arm felt as though it was gone, but when he opened his eyes again, it was still attached. Blood oozed from a puncture wound through his upper arm.
Several explosions detonated around Havji and Samara, though they were shielded by the rock. The Mule was targeting them and the Nomad. Gritting his teeth, Logan forced his arm out and located the wrench over a fastener. The whoosh of another rocket hurt his ears, and QuenchGun fire increased from all directions.
He grunted, turning the wrench in grinding circles. When he couldn't twist it anymore, he switched to the final fastener and repeated the operation.
"Get ready to move, Logan," Samara called. "We have to fall back."
"Don't wait for me," he snarled.
The last fastener was tight, and he slammed the access panel closed. More needles hammered into the side of the Nomad facing the enemy, and he rolled painfully over to the other wing, then half slid, half fell, to the ground below.
The barrage intensified, rising to a continuous scream as he tugged at the side door with his good hand, then dragged himself inside. The ship shuddered as incoming fire hammered against the hull. He activated the main flight controls with one sweep of a hand, and dropped into the pilot's seat, waiting desperately for the turbines to spin up.
The armored glass next to him was pockmarked as a fusillade of needles slammed into it, the clear surface turning white as the hardened shell blistered with the impacts. He tested the controls. The ship rose lethargically, then the turbines bit as they came up to speed, and the Nomad leaped skyward. As soon as it was clear of the ground, he threw it into a sweeping turn, banking away from the Mule and gaining altitude.
Putting some distance between him and the fight, he switched the ship's QuenchGuns into ground attack mode, then did a pass over the drop-troops. The guns targeted the Corporate soldiers automatically, and spat long bursts of needles into their positions. At the same time, Logan selected the Mule as a target for his missiles and triggered all of them simultaneously.
The missiles flashed groundward, and the armored vehicle was lost behind the fiery detonations. After letting the ship fly past his target, he forced the controls over, ignoring the pain in his arm to turn the aircraft in a tight spin, and made another pass. As he launched a second volley at the Mule, he saw two more rockets streak out from his team and impact the vehicle a split-second before his reached it.
The combined impacts tore off two of the Mule's legs, and it crashed into the flinty ground, the armored crew capsule digging deep into the earth. As Logan passed overhead, several hatches opened and soldiers ran away from the metal behemoth. When he turned the ship again, its crew and the drop-troops were surrounded by his team.
He pulled down on the throttles, hovering over the area, watching as one by one the soldiers were taken out. They should have surrendered once it became clear they weren't going to win, but none of them made any attempt to do so. The drop-troops were elite teams in Corporate ground forces, so he wasn't surprised they went down fighting, but he wished they'd allowed themselves to be captured.
"Everything's clear, Logan." Samara's voice buzzed in his ears. "Bog knows how you got that thing working in time, but we sure needed it."
He lowered the Nomad a few meters away from where the others were congregating. "Everyone okay?"
"A few scratches and a couple of burns. But otherwise good," Havji said.
"Get everything into the Nomad," Logan shouted. "We need to move."
There was a scramble toward the ship, and he checked around the site. They couldn't afford to leave anything valuable behind. The two cargo pods wouldn't be able to keep up with the Nomad but held useful supplies. He ran to the first one and started dragging it toward the Nomad. He was working one-handed, making progress slow.
Malette sprinted over and grabbed the other end, lifting it clear of the rocky soil. "Let's go."
When they reached the Nomad's rear, Logan lowered the tailgate, the hydraulics whining as it folded open. With one final heave they pushed the container inside.
"Let's get the other," Logan said.
Malette nodded, then stopped and looked up.
Logan heard a distant throb. A shimmering black blob was moving through the sky toward them, like a large vulture. The Futen was coming back. "Better make it fast," he said.
The aircraft made a low pass, its turbines deafening as they kicked up a hail of scrub. It arced back into the sky, already turning to make another pass. Logan doubted this one would be so harmless.
"Everyone on the ship," he called over his comm-link. "Now."
Malette was racing toward the second supply pod and Logan started after him. Before he got five meters, Samara was alongside. "We'll take care of this," she called. "Make sure that bird is ready to dust off."
He skidded to a halt. She was right. He was the only one who knew how to fly the ship, and with their Geneered strength, Samara and Malette could handle the supplies more easily than him. He raced inside the Nomad, the others already on board, then made his way to the front and fired up the turbines again. They responded faster this time, as they were already warmed up, and he sat nervously waiting for Samara and Malette.
"Three minutes," Samara gasped on the comm-link.
He locked missiles onto the Futen.
A thump sounded from the ramp, then a light flashed on the controls, showing the tail was closing. He didn't wait and twisted the controls to lift the Nomad off the ground. The Futen was approaching, and the threat displays lit up as they detected missiles locking on to them. He banked hard, launching decoy flares, then activated the ship's Cloak. The beating the hull had taken had weakened the field integrity, and he switched to hover mode minimizing his signal, locking weapons on the Futen.
A few seconds later, the enemy reacted, fading out of sight and from the Nomad's defense displays. The crew of the Corporate aircraft must have decided it was better to report back than engage in a firefight. He smiled grimly, his breathing returning to normal, and set a course due west.