The Mongrel: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Hunter's Moon Book 1) Page 22
Monk and mongrel alike collapsed into the dirt beside the torso. They were gasping, trying to find air enough to recover from the power they had used. Lasher's hand continued to pour blood into the dusty stone floor. He squinted his eyes, bringing his lips together, in an effort not to scream from the pain. “Are you still going to try to arrest me?” he gasped.
Cas laughed and immediately stopped under the strain it put on his smoldering shoulder. “Give me a minute.”
Doom-Snuggle looked to both. “While you are deciding your relationship status, can I take his head off?”
Both men stared at the robot. Wheezing coughs accompanied laughter as they took a moment to savor their Pyrrhic victory.
“In this case, I would not advise laughter as the best medicine for several interphalangeal fractures and a laser burn with associated injuries. ” Fluff added.
“Make him stop.” Cas rolled to hold his shoulder.
Lasher shook his head. “And risk him never making another joke? Not a chance.”
Doom-Snuggle's ears flattened as he gripped the back of the cyborg's neck with his foot. “Is that a 'no' to the head thing?”
A loud ping sounded in Lasher's ear. “Yeah?”
“You two lovebirds okay?” Kel responded through Lasher's earwig radio.
“I will have you know that there are two lovebirds and a cat, which in the traditional sense means that there are two snacks and a cat.” Fluff answered, his matter of fact tone more than condescending in the comm. “But in this case, I would thank you to remember that the Red Man said I am part of the crew.”
“He didn't mean anything by it, Fluff.” Lasher said, his voice jovial as he joked his way through the pain of his broken hand.
The Doom Cat released his grip on the back of the cyborg's neck. “It's hurtful to not be considered. I have feelings.” The cat said this as it whipped its tentacles and claws free of hydraulic fluids and blood.
Lasher smiled. “And I'll remind everyone.”
“Thank you.”
“You two sound like you're married,” Cas said. Smoke continued to smolder from the top of his left arm. His vestments had been mostly vaporized, leaving the monk in his armor. In his current condition, he looked similar to the defeated Berezin, who lay a few meters away.
Lasher chuckled. “It's a weird relationship, but I think it works. To Hells with what others think. Right, Fluff?”
“I have friends and a nickname. To Hells with the others.”
The pair struggled for the breath to laugh as they sat upright. Lasher closed a fist and offered it in salute to his terrifying friend. Doom-Snuggle returned the salute before, transforming into its cat form once again.
“Um... guys? Does that mean that everyone that isn't dead or in the process of dying might want to head to the ship?” Kel remarked over the com.
“I think we're...” The mongrel's voice trailed off. His eyes lost focus for just a moment, visions appearing to him in the Way becoming revelations. He whipped his head to look at Cas.
“I saw it too,” the monk wheezed, willing himself to stand.
“How far are the rest of your monks?” Lasher asked.
“I came with only Berezin and the scout team. The rest I sent to Kabran City in case the Crucible was in a state of flux.”
“Damn. Kel?”
Kel popped back into the earwig. “Here, man. You were about to tell me that none of you are dead?”
Lasher signaled to the Doom Cat to follow. “Meet us at the entrance of the mesa, as fast as you can. This isn't over.”
The assault shuttle roared into view, spewing dust and broken parts around the entrance. Yu was at the back of the ramp when it swung open. Cas and Lasher ran toward the ramp, Doom-Snuggle close behind dragging the broken cyborg. They bounded up the ramp, only to stop at the sight of an armor clad human lashed to a bulkhead.
“Who's this?” Lasher asked.
“Torture victim. Figured you could beat some info out of him later,” Yu said.
“Fair enough. Come here, meat.” Lasher ripped the man free of his restrains, hoisting him over his shoulder with his one good arm.
“Where are we going?” Kel called over the comm.
The mongrel grunted under the weight. “Back to the fort.”
“Why?” Kel exclaimed while keying on several command modules from the pilot's seat. “Even though I know the answer I'm going to get is going to be utter crap,” he said as Yuzheff slid into the co-pilot's chair.
Engines whined as they began to power up. Baby Doll ran the shuttle's pre-combat checks through the cargo bay. “Make sure that anything not lashed down to the deck is secure before we take off, please.”
Lasher stalked into the back of the cargo hold, careful to smack his bundle into every bulkhead or hanging piece of gear in the bay. The New Chief was the only living member left from the strike team sent to take him in. He whimpered and moaned from each impact through the gag stuffed into his mouth. Fluff was dragging what was left of Berezin by the fragments of his monk's robes. He was face down, pulled like a child dragging a backpack he was unwilling to carry. The cat dropped the corpse and loped back outside.
Lasher went to the rover that was chained to a cargo plate. He flung the prisoner into the driver’s seat. He didn't care that the man smacked his head into the roll bar or that his legs were at the wrong angle when he went in. His only concern was to put the fourth point of contact in the seat as fast as possible. He harnessed the man into the seat before heading to secure the cyborg carcass. “Kel! I'll answer your questions as soon as we're up and moving.”
Kel sat back into his pilot's chair, placing on his headset. “Told ya.”
Yuzheff placed his finger up near his face and drew the number “1” in the air. He immediately went back to rigging the ship for takeoff.
“Cas!” Lasher called down the ramp. “Get in here! We got to go!”
Castillo came up the ramp dragging the ships camouflage tarp with his good arm. He was wheezing the whole time. “I'm in. Broken, but in.”
Doom-Snuggle came up the ramp last, conveying a nearly two-meter long equipment bag in his mouth. He flung the bag across the room, smacking directly into the back of Berezin's head. “I'm in also. Camo tarp frame, generator, and barbecued meat recovered.”
“Does it smell that bad?” Cas asked as he looked under the makeshift sling his arm was in.
“My olfactory sensors picked up the need for salt, pepper, and a nice accompanying beer at ten meters.”
Lasher continued to grin as he barked, “Cas, med bay is down that hall. Get in and get medicated. Fluff, secure prisoners. The cyborg is out, but if the human gives you any trouble, start with the fingers. Kel, ramp up. Ship moving, please!”
Lasher crashed into one of the jump seats. The view outside shifted from the dark horizon to the sunrise rotating away from the entrance. He was holding his hand in his lap while working the flight restraint with the other.
“How bad is it?” Kel asked as he chanced a look over his shoulder.
“Bad. Kat is using the printer in the med bay to make a brace that will allow me to use it.”
Kel looked over to Yuzheff. “Where did you find the time to...” Kel's expression changed as if he were a schoolboy reasoning a math problem whose answer became apparent. Not that Kel had ever been to school in the traditional sense. “That weird spacer code that you were tapping on the wall when we were locked up. Have you two been working together the whole time?”
“Just fly the ship, my friend.” Lasher said, his tone jovial despite the pain he was in.
Kel looked genuinely hurt. “I want in on the creepy space love connection you two have going on.”
From the back of the ship, Doom-Snuggle came over the loudspeaker. “With all the love connecting on this ship, I am going to need an upgrade. Although I don't mind being the only cat.” There was a crack that burst through the sound system, preceding a loud scream. Everyone in the cockpit jumped.
Twenty-Two
Marshal Truveau and Sister Leeuwen walked into the operations room. The ICOM had been positioned in the center of the room, projecting its holographic workspace.
“Marshal. Welcome back, ma'am,” one of the troopers greeted them. “I was glad to see the commander had taken you off of the naughty list. How can I help you?”
“Has Lieutenant Surran come back yet?”
“He went down to medical.” The private offered. “He thought he dropped his codex when he was in the fight earlier. The good corporal found it under some of the debris in the corner of the room. Those MRE wrappers are like a living thing if you don't clean them up right away. They stick to everything. He's on his way back up.”
Leeuwen looked to the marshal. “Codex?”
The private was quick to answer. “It's a code key that allows command access for all lancer com-gear. Without it, someone trying to tap into the Battle-net is going to get an earful of nothing.”
“So we will have to wait until he returns to get into the Battle-net?” Leeuwen asked.
“Yes, ma'am,” the other tech answered. She swiveled her chair to face the monk. “I have some measure of access to keep tabs on things. I can probably get you what you need.”
Leeuwen nodded. “We are looking to track the commander's stolen ship. It seems that the fugitives were able to disarm the transponder. It might be possible to track an alternate system by tapping into the Hyper-net relay in orbit and putting out a broad-burst signal using the commander's over-ride code.” Leeuwen reached into her robe and produced a data card. She set it on the table next to the tech in the chair. The monk's robe slid back from her arm, exposing resicarbon plating with duradium accents polished to a high chrome.
The female tech widened her eyes in surprise. “Wow. That is nice work. What is that inscription?”
Leeuwen blushed slightly under the hood of her robe as she quickly withdrew her arm. “It is in a language from the birthplace of man. It reads 'officium sine nomine,' which means 'service without name.' It was the motto for an old space agency for those who served without thought of reward.”
Mara turned to regard the cybernetic arm. “That looks like military-grade bionics. Is it just your arm?”
The sister ducked into her hood. Her arm withdrew from sight, diving into the depths of the thick Vernai robe. “Unfortunately, my convergence date was a long time ago. Since then, we were banned outright from the Core Worlds for the actions of some of our allies. What is the old expression? You can't choose your family?”
Both techs cautiously rolled away from the sister on their swivel chairs. Mara rolled her eyes and placed her hand on the sister's shoulder. “I assume becoming a full conversion cyborg predated your time in the monastery. You have served faithfully in the Vernai since coming to them I would assume?”
“Yes. They let me convalesce from my injuries. Repairs were made without ever asking for payment. I was given the choice to live as a citizen of Elysium or join the order and continue to live up to the motto on my arm. I chose the latter.”
“Very noble of you.” The marshal knew the reputation that most cyborgs had. During the Exodus Wars, they were classified as psychotic monsters who made landfall and indiscriminately killed wherever they went. Seeing a person encased in a robot body, destroying like an angry god, was to look into the face of death. Historians of the time considered the dead to be the lucky ones. The cybernetic warriors were often the precursors to much worse. It was no wonder that they were declared weapons of war in the Core Worlds.
The sister nodded. “Thank you, Marshal Truveau.” Her voice wavered a bit, thickening an accent that the marshal couldn't place. She could see that the only true acceptance Leeuwen had ever known came from the monastery. To be outside was to be judged and feared.
The door to the operations room slid open. Lieutenant Surran walked in, his head in a bandage. “Marshal Truveau. Good to see you back with us. Is this the Vernai sister who’s going to help us? Commander Hylaeus informed us she was coming.”
“Yes. From my understanding, Sister Leeuwen is a forensic technician. She has an idea of how to find the ship.”
Tom reached over his technician to grab the recently discovered codex. He touched it to the ICOM in the center of the room, causing a myriad of new screens to come to life in the holographic pond surrounding them. “Thanks for finding this, Corporal Savoya. I would have been in deep if this got lost.”
“No problem, LT.”
Tom turned to the cyborg with a slight bow. “Sister, you now have baseline admin access to the Battle-net. Will this work for what you need to do?”
There was a slight flutter in her voice as blue-tinged eyes flared to life under Leeuwen's hood. It reminded the marshal of Brother Berezin from when she first met the monks.
“Yes, Lieutenant. This will be just fine.”
“Got it. That was fast, Sister.” Corporal Savoya said over her left shoulder.
The occupants of the room regarded her screens. A map was being projected as the lead image with a red dot pinging beyond a ring of terrain features.
Marshal Truveau leaned forward on the stack of boxes Commander Hylaeus had used earlier. “Seems the ship is some two clicks past the Surando Mesa. Send word to Captain Gerard and Commander Hylaeus.”
“Straight away, ma'am,” the corporal responded.
“Sister Leeuwen, impressive piece of tracking on your part. Care to clue us in on how you did it should the commander lose his shuttle again?” Lieutenant Surran said.
Leeuwen shifted slightly to hide the grin on her face. “Marshal Truveau actually provided the needed information for me to reconnect with it. Not only was Lasher carrying a handful of slicer modules stolen from the lancers, but the person he is traveling with is a known criminal responsible for a multitude of crimes. He would have known how to get around measures designed to keep track of the ship. There's no doubt that they dumped the transponder. I simply worked through an exploit in the system to activate a minor com array. It is broadcasting a certain pitch of static in three second bursts every ninety seconds. The ship was already broadcasting a low band of noise to hide its engine signature to anyone listening for it. I just included a 'pop' so my algorithm would know what to look for. ”
Tom nodded his approval. “Know the players, know the game. I like it. If you ever decide to leave the monastery, you can come work with us. Standing offer.” He gave the sister a thumbs-up to indicate he was serious. His “serious” signal garnered eye rolls from the rest of the room.
“Your offer is very kind, Lieutenant.” Leewuen said respectfully.
The tech sitting beside the corporal spun his chair about. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. We're still having some flare activity in the system. Closed loop systems like the Battle-net are being affected across hybrid systems.”
A fish-eyed stare covered the face of the marshal. Sister Leeuwen was quick to make kind corrections. “The lancers can talk to each other across dedicated communications, but a hybrid system like the ICOM is having trouble talking to them.”
“Ah. For a second, there, I thought my time in the sun had finally baked my brain,” the marshal said with a twisted grin. “I'll walk the grid location out to the command crew. Are you coming, Sister?”
Leeuwen lowered her head, tilting it away from the marshal. “I'm going to stay behind for a moment. I just have something of my own to finish up.”
“Oh sure. Make me go and talk to the stuffy higher-ups.”
Tom interjected, “As a marshal, don't you routinely have to interact with people like Gerard and Hylaeus?”
“Yes. But that doesn't mean I like to!” Truveau winked at Leeuwen and tapped Tom on the shoulder. Gathering her cloak, she exited the room.
Tom hated to shake off the camaraderie he was experiencing, having to resume the role of tactical officer. While he greatly enjoyed interacting with fron
t line units like this, he still had a job to do. “All right, troopers. Let's clear out the static we're getting from that flare so that we can talk to our boys on the ground. Corporal?”
“On it, sir.”
“Private, see if you can task a satellite from local law enforcement to run over that area where we got the ping. Make sure that there's something at that location and that we're not getting a false reading due to geography or flare activity,” Tom said, scrolling through rolling lists of code across multiple holograms.
“Roger, sir.” The private swiveled back to his work station.
“Sister Leeuwen, is there anything I can assist you with?” Tom asked, hoping to make himself useful.
The sister just shook her head to indicate she was fine with whatever she was doing through her cel-com.
“LT, now I can't get a signal out to Kabran City. Do you think it might be a problem with one of the antennas on the roof?” The private asked.
Tom took a step to hover over the enlisted man. “Nope. Those are short-range. The long-range stuff is just past the landing pads. Private, take a tool kit and your cel-com to check them out. ”
“On it, sir.” The private jumped from his chair and thrust several objects into a sling-pack. He chopped the air in a mock two-fingered salute to the room, making his way out.
“Ahem. Forgetting something?” the corporal added as she swung his cap around her finger.
“Sorry about that, Corporal. My drill instructor used to tell me that he would nail that to my head as often as I'd forget it. I'll ping you once I'm at the dish and have the hatch open.”
Corporal Savoya swiveled her chair back into place and began sifting through holo-screens. “I swear. One day I am going to whip that boy into a right proper soldier.”
“Would that be before or after you taught him to betray his oath?”
Lieutenant Surran and Corporal Savoya slowly turned to face the cyborg. Tom was first to speak. “I'm not sure who you're talking to, Sister Leeuwen, but I think that you should explain yourself.”
“Commander Hylaeus had asked me to do a little digging once you let me into the Battle-net. There were some things that he could not reconcile. As a forensic technician, I was able to isolate and follow bits of code that lined up with certain events. There was supposed to be a QRF element of robots and drones deployed from the fort. They were re-tasked just after the Surando-Hidek talks began. That tasking came from this ICOM broadcasting on the dishes outside the landing strip. Another tasking reprogramming the RIM-VIs to take out Lasher also came from this broadcast hub. In each case, a masking algorithm hid the identification marking Lieutenant Surran's codex as the entry key into the system. Several communications also left the hub using the same system.”