The aracnidrone must have been out of chaff because it directed a minigun at the missile, and high-velocity bullets streaked out into the night.
This time they weren’t enough. The bullets must have missed or not penetrated the missile’s casing. When the small warhead detonated, it was right on target.
<What the hell is going on out there?> Chase asked. <Having trouble with the wildlife?>
<The usual,> Barne replied. <Leslie missed a couple of aracnidrones, and they’re kicking Rika’s ass. I’m hauling it out of the fire, though.>
<Hey!> Rika exclaimed at the same time Leslie corrected, <I didn’t miss anything, they must have arrived later.>
<You almost done in there?> Rika asked as she continued to scan for the other drone.
<Just got one last guy who has the target. We’re negotiating,> Leslie replied.
Weapons fire echoed from the entrance to the bunker.
<That’s what you call it, eh?> Barne chortled.
Rika was about to reply when she caught sight of a blur to her right. She dove to the ground as the remaining aracnidrone opened up with its minigun, flinging high-velocity rounds at Rika as it strafed past.
Enough of this. Rika leapt high into the air and fired one of her depleted uranium sabot rounds at the drone. The thing dodged out of the way—its tracking was as good as hers.
She fired another at the apex of her leap, and that one hit, tearing off two of the drone’s legs…arms…whatever.
Its motion slowed just enough, allowing Rika to twist in the air and land on the drone’s back, clamping a foot around the minigun and tearing it free before slamming her fist into what she assumed was its main sensor cluster.
For a second, the drone fell still, and she hoped it was down for the count. Then its legs reversed and clamped around Rika’s thigh, tearing at her armor plating,
“Fuck!” Rika swore as she ripped off one of the drone’s limbs and shifted her position to fire her JE84 into the thing’s insides.
The drone moved, and the rounds ricocheted off. The diabolical thing got some of its feet under it and pushed up, sending Rika to the ground. It reversed its legs again and scampered on top of her, tearing at her armor as it pulled itself toward her throat.
<Hold still!> Barne called down.
<Easy for you to say,> Rika called back, holding her GNR in front of the thing while batting away limbs. It was still tearing at her leg, and managed to sink one of its sharp claws into her thigh.
Rika resisted the urge to buck into the air, though a scream did escape her throat. Then a trio of high-powered slugs streaked across the farmyard and slammed into the drone, ripping off two more of its limbs and knocking it away from Rika.
“Now you’ve pissed me off,” Rika said as she rose and stomped on one of the drone’s remaining limbs as it tried to right itself. She planted a foot on another leg, and then grabbed the thing’s missile launcher as it swiveled toward her.
“Not today, you piece of shit,” Rika swore as she tore off the launcher. Then she grabbed another of its limbs and wrenched it back.
The thing began to twitch and spark, and Rika jumped back, getting clear as another trio of shots came from Barne’s position, striking the drone.
It finally lay still, and Rika breathed a sigh of relief.
The roar of the burning barn filled the night, still punctuated by the shrieks of the doomed horses.
<You done messing around out there?> Leslie asked. <We’ve got a scared little girl in here, and I’d rather not put her through anything else tonight.>
<Hold your position,> Rika said. <We need to do another quick sweep. Barne, make sure no one saw the fireworks.>
<On it,> Barne responded while Rika strode toward the burning barn. Nothing had exploded from within yet, and she had hopes for the truck inside.
She reached the door just as the three horses burst free—singed and a bit bloody, but alive. Rika breathed a sigh of relief as she pushed past the flames and spotted the truck. It had been flipped over, likely from the grenades, but wasn’t going anywhere with the front tires half-melted.
So much for that. She hurried around the back to see if the chaingun or rocket launcher was intact. By some miracle they were, and she wrapped her hand around the cab of the truck, heaving it right-side up before tossing the cases of rockets and ammo into the truck’s box.
She turned to grab the truck’s rear bumper and saw movement in the flames. Rika cycled her vision and saw another aracnidrone pinned under the toppled tractor. Several of its limbs were crushed and it struggled to pull free.
Sucker.
Rika pulled the truck out of the barn, wincing as the torn muscles in her leg screamed in pain. Her armor’s med-systems had already sealed the wound and injected her with biofoam. The pain was just a reminder not to further stress the injury.
A reminder she ignored.
<I don’t think it’s going to work,> Barne said as she dragged the truck free of the burning structure.
<Yeah,> Rika said. <I just didn’t fancy taking these weapons off while the building came down around me.>
She turned to survey the barn and saw the flames waver before the aracnidrone shot out of the barn—right into Rika’s electron beam. Relativistic electrons shredded the machine, and it fell to the ground beside the truck.
<Nice shooting, LT,> Chase said from his position at the bunker’s entrance. <We clear? I don’t think we should stick around too much longer.>
Rika flipped the latches holding the chaingun down and settled it onto the outer socket on her GNR mount. It wasn’t a standard connection, but the mount reconfigured and latched onto the chaingun.
She clipped its ammobox to her thigh, and then loaded four rockets into the launcher before pulling it off the truck’s mount and settling it on her left shoulder.
<Yeah, let’s move.>
<Excessive much?> Leslie asked as she emerged from the bunker holding the ten-year-old girl on her hip.
<Always,> Rika assured her.
PRAIRIE
STELLAR DATE: 06.14.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Kessler Wilderness, North of Kandahar City
REGION: Faseema, Oran System, Praesepe Cluster
The rendezvous point was ten klicks to the southeast, and they moved at a brisk pace across the night-shrouded plain.
The girl, whose name turned out to be Amy, had remained mostly silent through the trip, her face buried in Leslie’s shoulder. Only once—when something in the burning barn exploded behind them—did she cry out and tighten her grip around Leslie’s neck.
<Is she injured?> Rika asked, feeling empathetic to the girl’s fear. It wasn’t even two decades ago that she had undergone a similar nighttime escape—she had been not much older than Amy.
<No, she seems OK,> Leslie replied. <Physically at least. If I weren’t armored, I think she’d choke me to death with these pipes she’s got for arms.>
<She was scared of us at first,> Chase allowed. <But when Leslie took her helmet off, the girl rushed right for her.>
<Called me ‘Kitty’,> Leslie laughed.
Barne snorted. <Need a new callsign?>
<We don’t use callsigns,> Leslie replied, her serious tone a warning.
<Could start. You’d be ‘Kitty’, Rika would be ‘Iron Ass’. Chase can be ‘Loverboy’.>
<You call me Kitty, and I’ll claw your eyes out in your sleep,> Leslie threatened.
<That’s not helping your case,> Chase laughed.
<What? And you want to be ‘Loverboy’?> Leslie asked.
Chase shrugged, <I don’t think Barne can muster the consistency to pull off nicknames. Besides, he wouldn’t want to know what we’d come up with for him.>
Rika laughed, and Barne’s shoulders rounded.
<Why, what would it be?> he asked.
<Dunno,> Chase replied. <But it would make ‘Loverboy’ seem like a compliment.>
<I kinda think it is a compliment,> Rika answered privately.
<Me too,> Chase said with a smile in Rika’s mind. <But the less ammo I give Barne, the better. Besides, he could call me ‘Shit Face’; I’m living the dream here. He can’t get me down.>
<Oh yeah?> Rika teased. <I’m the dream?>
Chase gave a mental chuckle. <Of course! Well, plus shooting bad guys—and winning. I really like winning for a change.>
<Wow, I’m the third rung, under shooting and winning,> Rika half-jested.
Chase must have sensed her sincerity, because he took a step closer and touched her arm.
<I’d watch grass grow with you, Rika. Anything my girl wants. I’m just glad you like kicking ass more than slinging cargo for Hal on Dekar.>
<Thanks,> Rika flushed. She would have touched him in response, but her one hand was busy holding the rocket launcher steady on her shoulder.
<You’re my one and only, Rika. Once we get off this shit-hole, I’m going to remind you in all the right ways.>
Rika responded with a wave of gratitude over the Link, holding back the sadness that they still couldn’t be intimate.
She had spoken to the Marauders’ doctors about rebuilding her genitalia—about making her feel like a whole woman again—but it wasn’t that simple.
Part of the problem was with her. Over the years, she had come to accept that the majority of her body was no longer organic. She didn’t sweat—except for her head—didn’t have to eat if she didn’t want to, didn’t have to worry about pimples, rashes, infections. The matte grey ballistic polymer that served as her skin was perfection.
That realization had come to her when the doctors were talking to her about how she could get organic skin for the rest of her body—not just her head. They had talked about re-growing her limbs, about making her human again.
Thing was, Rika liked being a mech.
A year ago, she would have punched someone in the face just for suggesting such a notion. Her body had been nothing but shame to her.
But in the Marauders, she was all but revered. She was the backbone of Basilisk; her company’s CO gave her team the hardest assignments because of Rika’s effectiveness as a warrior—effectiveness that came from being a mech.
Here, no one derided her; she had a family, and that family accepted and loved her—in their own ways, at least.
She had decided to remain a mech, at least for now.
However, functioning sex organs would require the removal of two of her internal SC batteries. That would make her weak; she wouldn’t be able to go more than a day at most without charging, or she would have to use external batteries for heavy combat.
In the Marauders, Rika was always within comms’ reach of Basilisk team… but the fear of running out of power, of not being able to move her own limbs, of being prey, was still strong.
Power notwithstanding, there was also the matter of dealing with organic waste. Rika had long since realized that she was very happy with the fact that she no longer had to wipe her body clean several times a day. Her san-pack took care of all that.
When she considered all of that, selfish though it may be, Rika had determined to remain as she was. A decision that would have been completely without regret—were it not for Chase.
<Rika, you there?> Chase asked.
<Oh, yeah, you got me daydreaming,> Rika lied. A white lie.
<Probably shouldn’t tease you on a mission, LT,> Chase replied with a wink. <You need to stay frosty.>
<As do you,> Rika replied.
No one spoke the rest of the way to the pickup location—an old grouping of concrete granaries rising roughly a hundred meters into the prairie sky.
They stood out like dark sentinels against the starscape, and the girl whimpered when she saw them, eliciting a few soft words from Leslie.
Rika climbed the tallest granary, glad that its ladder was steel and well anchored. Once on top, she surveyed the landscape, looking for any signs of pursuit.
She could see several swathers in the distance shearing the tall, dry grass for baling, and a truck driving down a road further to the south.
A cry sounded from below, and Rika peered over the edge of the silo that she stood on to see Leslie returning to Amy, her hands stretched out, eliciting calm.
It appeared that Leslie would not be joining Rika atop the granaries for surveillance—not if they wanted to keep Amy quiet.
<I’ll go up,> Chase offered, and took off at a slow, loping run toward the silo furthest from Rika.
<Think we’ll see more of K-Strike’s goons?> Leslie asked.
<There was an EM signal linking those aracnis,> Barne said. <It was close by—or passing through a strong relay. Either way, someone saw what we were up to. Whether or not they have the firepower to come at us is another story.>
<What do you think, LT?> Chase asked.
<I think we should expect an attack,> Rika assessed. <Barne, did you signal for our lift? Where is Patty already?>
<She’s coming,> Barne replied. <She had to refuel, and got gouged onstation. She’ll be lifting off shortly. Oh, and she said there’s weather moving in from the west. She’s gonna try to beat it.>
<’Weather’?> Rika peered at the western horizon. She cycled her vision through a few modes, and backscatter revealed that there were clouds low on the horizon and moving in quickly. She could make out a few flickers of light deep within.
Great, a flash prairie storm high on the steppe. Just what we need.
<Tell her to hurry up, Barne. I don’t want to get stuck in this,> Rika ordered.
Barne chuckled. <Afraid you’ll rust?>
<Shut up, Barne. Just tell her to move it.>
<See that?> Chase said suddenly. <At the farm. A gunship.>
Rika looked toward the farm and saw a small, squat ship descending into the valley.
<I don’t see any markings. So it’s not police.>
<Yeah, but it’s well-armed,> Chase replied.
<I didn’t take K-Strike for the sentimental type,> Chase commented. <You’d think they’d search for us first.>
<Maybe they think we’re long gone,> Leslie suggested. <Just doing cleanup to remove their tracks.>
<Sloppy, if that’s the case,> Rika replied.
She dispatched her last passel of drones and directed them to set up an overwatch grid two kilometers into the sky. She wanted a clear view of the ship if it sent out search parties or took off, or if more of its friends arrived.
<ETA on Patty?> Rika asked Barne.
<Twenty-two minutes,> Barne replied.
Rika nodded to herself. It could be worse, and there’s nothing we can do about it, anyway.
She turned to examine the structure atop the silo. A conveyer ran between each concrete tower, with different tracks and pipes used to deliver disparate grains to the correct silo. It was aged and rusting, but not so badly that it wouldn’t support her weight.
Rika carefully climbed up the steel struts and wedged the rocket launcher between a pair of beams supporting the conveyer. Then she grabbed one of the smaller support crossmembers, tore it free—wincing as it screeched—and wrapped it around the rocket launcher.
<Wow, could you be any louder?> Barne asked.
<I should ask for a small arc welder on our next mission,> Rika replied.
Barne snorted. <Then you could be ‘Rika Repairbot’.>
<You’re just a bucket of yuk yuks tonight, Barne,> Chase responded. <You go see a comedy show recently, or something?>
<What can I say?> Barne shrugged. <You guys are my muse.>
Chase and Barne continued trading barbs while Rika interfaced with the rocket launcher and linked with its launch systems.
The missiles it fired were guided; so long as it was facing in the general direction of the enemy, she should be able to use it effectively without toting it around.
Rika didn’t have the specs on the missiles themselves, but judging by their size, they should have enough fuel to strike targets up to four or five kilometers out—provided she didn’t need to steer them too much.
Satisfied that the launcher was secure, she climbed back down to the domed roof of the silo and took up a position on the leeward side.
She surveyed the darkened prairie, pausing periodically to take in the breathtaking view of the Praesepe Cluster gleaming in the night sky—like a diamond, ruby, and sapphire encrusted sheet of velvet.
A gust of wind raced across the grass, and Rika imagined a swarm of the aracnidrones rushing through the tall stalks toward their position.
<Leslie, do you have any pixie dust with you?> Rika asked.
<Of course. I don’t leave home without it,> Leslie replied. <I don’t think Amy is going to let me go long enough to disperse it, though.>
<I’ll do it,> Rika said and walked to the edge of the silo. She stepped off and hit the ground with a dull thud.
Leslie and Amy sat in the shadow of a silo in the second row, so Rika made her way through the discarded equipment to their position. She checked Barne’s position and saw him hunkered down at the end of the row, scanning the horizon to the south—the direction from which Patty would approach.
Amy started as Rika reached the pair, and the girl buried her face into Leslie’s side.
“It’s OK, Amy,” Leslie whispered, stroking Amy’s hair. “Rika is a nice woman.”
Amy peered out at Rika, eyeing her suspiciously. “She’s a mech; most mechs aren’t very nice.”
Rika unlocked her helmet and lifted it enough to show her face.
“Hi, Amy, it’s very nice to meet you.”
A small smile crossed Amy’s lips, and her grip on Leslie loosened a little.
“Oh, you’re a pretty lady! I didn’t think mechs had faces.”
Rika chuckled softly. “Some do. And thank you, Amy. Think you could loosen your grip on Leslie a bit? She needs to get something out of her satchel for me.”
A look of worry flitted across Amy’s features, and Leslie patted her on the shoulder. “Just for a moment, dear.”