Machine World (Undying Mercenaries Book 4) (36 page)

There was another, longer silence.  Downslope, I could see the mists swirling. I knew the saurians were still embattled by the machines at the foot of the mountain, out of sight. Occasionally an explosion ripped through the air and flashes erupted in the vapors like lightning bursts inside a cloud.

“Why this? Why now?” he demanded, sounding greedy but suspicious. “Why not just take your lumps and catch a revive back home?”

“Because Turov might not come back. She might scratch this legion from her roster forever. Think of all the baggage she’d relieve herself of if she left us dead and gone.”

“Let’s say I buy your bullshit. Let’s pretend I believe you can get the key, and that you aren’t just blowing smoke up my butt in general. Why would you hand it over when you have possession? You might forget about a deal with gullible old Claver at that point.”

“I gave the key up before, to Turov. That was a mistake. She hasn’t bettered Earth’s cause with it. She’s used it for personal gain.”

“And you think I’m some kind of philanthropist?”

“I’m not under any illusions in that regard, sir. But I think you’re trying to build a trading empire while I think Turov is trying to rise to the top of Earth’s military. I find you dangerous, but less so than she is.”

“Hmmm. You’re pulling at my heartstrings, boy. After all, I’m just an old-fashioned softie underneath, and I hate to see a fellow schemer suffer.”

I rolled my eyes at his words, but I managed not to laugh.

“Out of the kindness of my inner being,” he continued as if he was doing me a tremendous favor, “I’m inclined to accept your terms. I’ll do what I can—but I can’t offer any promises. These saurians don’t want to operate the big guns themselves because they’re not licensed to do so, but I’m not under any such proscriptions. Without my help, they may or may not decide to break the rules and do it themselves. My guess is that they won’t, but...”

“I’m willing to take the gamble,” I said. “For one thing, it’s all I’ve got. For another, I’m betting on saurian respect for the law. They like to follow the rules strictly. They won’t work the guns and violate the Galactic statutes. What I don’t get is how they had the balls to hire warships and fly out here in the first place.”

“Haven’t you figured that out yet, dummy? Earth people are Enforcers now, leaving the role of provincial mercenaries open. We lost our monopoly on the mercenary service when we accepted the elevation in status. Now that the job is open in Frontier 921, the lizards are going for it all out. It’s not just the metals they were after out here, they want to prove they can defeat an Earth legion on the ground.”

“Sucks to be them in that case, sir.”

He gave me a long, dirty chuckle that ended in a coughing fit. “You boys pretty much kicked their tails in. I had trouble not enjoying the spectacle. But let’s cut the crap. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” I said. My heart was heavy in my chest.

“When do I take delivery of my prize?”

“You have to give me a year, sir. Shouldn’t take any longer than that.”

“A year? What the hell kind of—?”

“You could speed that up,” I suggested. “If you left us a deep-link by accident, the plan’s odds of success would be greatly enhanced. Otherwise, we’ve got no way to communicate with Earth. We’ll have to wait for Hegemony ships to scout the system again before we’d be able to get off this rock.”

Claver grumbled and cursed, but at last he agreed that it would speed up the process. Who knew if Turov would ever come back to see what happened on Gamma Pavonis? He couldn’t take the risk that he’d let us live but not get home. I couldn’t give him the Galactic key if I didn’t get back to Turov to take it.

He closed the channel, and I looked up at the skies. Blue-white flares of plasma burned in the upper atmosphere. The saurian lifters were coming down to pick up their troops. Hundreds of lifters for thousands of troops.

I rushed inside the caves to tell Tribune Drusus what I’d done. If he shot down the saurian lifters, even one of them, the deal might fall apart.

-49-

I’ll be the first to admit my methods are unorthodox. That I frequently step on the toes of my superior officers—no, that’s not right. I
stomp
on them. But when such actions result in miraculous improvements to the well-being of Legion Varus, one might think a little praise was in order.

Instead, when I explained what I’d done, I was met with shocked silence. The silence was unfortunately brief, and was immediately followed by a tirade of swearing.

Tribune Drusus wasn’t doing the swearing, however. A certain primus named Winslade was the one creating the stink.

“How
dare
you, McGill?” he asked as if he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “How
dare
you?”

“Well sir,” I said, “I happen to have a personal relationship with Claver, and I know how he thinks. I only appealed to his better nature and succeeded.”

All the officers in the chamber eyed me with a distinct air of mistrust. I found this almost insulting. After all, we were in this together. We were going to die on this rock without help.

“So,” Drusus said, stepping forward and putting up a hand to stop Winslade’s next outburst. “You’re saying
you
talked Claver into leaving without bombing us out of existence?”

“Yes sir, exactly.”

“Claver is a trader, not a charity,” Drusus said. “What was in it for him?”

“First off, he was their gunner,” I said.

“We know that.”

“And without him, it’s unlikely the saurians will have enough scaly balls to bomb us.”

“Fair enough,” Drusus said. “But again, what was Claver’s source of gain in this deal you arranged? He has to get something out of it.”

My attempts to switch the subject had clearly failed. I looked from one of them to the next, blinking and thinking fast. They weren’t going to buy any kind of compassion on the part of Adjunct Claver. I couldn’t blame them for that. Anyone who’d met the man knew he’d sell his grandma for a bent credit piece and a cup of coffee.

“He wants trading rights,” I said quickly. “Not between Machine World and Earth, but between Machine World and the rest of Frontier 921.”

There were murmurs and growls at this. They believed it, but they weren’t happy about it.

“That’s not all,” I said. “He wants every ingot in this mine stacked outside for picking up later. Once we’ve gotten a ship here to pull us out, we’re to leave the titanium on the surface and not look back.”

There was even more, louder grumbling at that. But eventually, they settled down and accepted the terms.

What choice did they have, really? Who would risk being permed to stop a trade deal? Not these people, and not me, either.

The following hours were tense as we waited for the saurians to withdraw and leave in their ships. They took to the air, vanishing into the sky in their lifters. I was jealous to see it. I’d never watched aliens with such envy.

When they were all hanging up there over our heads, it was hard not to walk in a crouch down here on the surface. Drusus ordered us below, and most followed those orders, but not me. I wandered the rubble-filled tunnels, wondering if I was enjoying the final moments of existence that would ever be allotted to me.

Drusus himself hailed me in the upper galleries. He walked up and stared at me.

“Defiant to the last, McGill?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sorry sir,” I said. “But I figured if a man’s going to be blasted to atoms, he might as well walk under an open sky under his own power.”

“I can see you’re still limping now that you’re out of your armor,” he said, looking me over. “We can fix that, you know.”

“A regrow? What’s the point? I’ll be dead or alive in a few hours’ time, and either way I won’t care about my leg.”

“Suit yourself,” he was quiet for a second, and we both studied the skies. Finally, he had to ask what was on everyone’s mind. “Do you think they’ll really let us go, James? You talked to Claver, not me. Can we trust him?”

“Not at all, sir. Not for a dime, a dollar or a two-penny candy, as my grandfather used to say. But we can reason through what he wants, and if he wants something we can give, he’ll stick to an agreement. He couldn’t be successful as a trader otherwise.”

“I guess not,” he said, and sighed. “It’s galling to have to depend on an enemy to—”

Just then, my tapper beeped. I glanced down at it, frowning. No one should have been able to reach me here, standing in the wreckage and blasted craters of the mine’s upper chambers. I glanced at Tribune Drusus, who nodded with curiosity.

“Answer it,” he said.

“Hello?” I asked. The caller had no ID and no icon. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, McGill,” said Claver. “I’m sorry to have to make this call, but I’m a man of my word when a deal’s been struck. I thought I owed it to you to let you know what happened up here.”

My heart sank. “What do you mean, sir?”

“The saurians aren’t going for it. Unfortunately, they aren’t as dumb as real lizards. They don’t want to change their plans just because I’ve made some kind of under-the-table deal. I’m going to have to drop the hammer on you and your troops.”

“Sir,” I said quickly, “I’ve managed to talk the tribune into sweetening the offer.”

I explained we would set him up as a dealer and give him the contents of the mines that were already processed and refined.

Claver sounded truly regretful to turn me down. “That
is
tempting, boy,” he said. “And I wish I could take it, but I’ll be permed myself if I do. The saurians have a gun to my head—literally.”

Throughout this exchange, Tribune Drusus watched me, frowning curiously. He could hear both ends of the conversation as I was using the speakers on my tapper and talking out loud. I might have made the call more private if I’d known who was calling—but what was done was done.

I looked up at the gray clouds, expecting falling streaks of light to come down and burn me to cinder at any second.

“Stall them,” I said, “stall them as long as you can, Claver.”

“What’s the point?” he asked.

I told him then about the drones we were flying in every direction.

“The deal could still be on,” I said. “Just give us twenty-four hours. Tell them you need to recalibrate or something. Let us spread ourselves out a little, and the odds we’ll be permed will be much lower. If we breathe again, even in another place in another time, the deal is still on.”

“Hmmm. Okay. But one more thing, I want assurance from Drusus that if I’m permed by these reptiles, I’ll catch a revive from your people and be set free afterward.”

I looked at Drusus, who appeared troubled but resigned. He leaned closer to my tapper.

“This is Tribune Drusus,” he said. “Check my voiceprint. On my word, I’ll revive and release you if you require the service after this disastrous campaign.”

Claver chuckled. “Well, well, Tribune,” he said. “I should have known you were lurking nearby and coaching McGill. He’s not smart enough to maneuver old Claver by himself. It’s a deal.”

The channel closed, and we were left to gaze at the skies in apprehension. Drusus studied me rather than the clouds after a minute or so.

“What did you mean when you told him you’d managed to sweeten the deal by adding trading rights? Isn’t that what Claver wanted in the first place?”

I straightened my shoulders, but I didn’t meet his eye. “Did I say something like that? I’m sorry sir, I must have been nervous and misspoke.”

“Right… McGill, you’re without a doubt, the most peculiar noncom I’ve ever met. Just when I think I understand all your twists and turns, you spring another one on me. Sometimes, I worry that I’ve got a youthful version of Claver in the midst of my own team, hiding in plain sight.”

I looked at him and frowned. “I find that suggestion offensive, sir. I’ve been working hard to save our collective butts. You may not know everything that’s in my head, but I’d appreciate it if you’d at least recognize positive results when they’re reached.”

Drusus shook his head bemusedly. “Lectured sternly by a man who’s less than a third my age. I stand rebuffed. But as to recognition and gratitude, remember your rapid rise in rank—despite a thousand infractions.”

He walked away, and I regretted having smarted-off to him that way. I gazed up at the skies, wondering as to our fate. It really was hard to think clearly with a mass of fusion shells waiting to rain down upon my head.

Twenty-one long hours passed before the skies spoke to me again. Just in case Claver needed a little more encouragement, I’d spent most of that time pacing around on the surface, watching my tapper.

According to the techs who’d set up dishes to track the saurian ships, all seven had remained parked in orbit. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Maybe Claver had come up with a temporary dodge, telling them the broadsides weren’t workable for a set period. That would mean he’d followed our agreement to the letter, if not the spirit of it.

If that was the situation, I was as good as dead. At least our drones had managed to spread all over the planet now that the saurians weren’t around to shoot them down. If some of them managed to keep from being eaten by the local fauna for the next year or so, we should catch a revive—maybe.

At the crack of the twenty-first hour, something finally happened.

It started off as a streak of blue-white. I’d seen it before, and I’d expected it. The first shell was coming down, falling right toward my position.

I stared at it, unblinking. As a man who’s experienced death more times than I can count, I wanted to end it all without cringing. I watched with my spine straight, my mouth clamped closed and my guts still in my belly.

Only at the last second did I realize anything was wrong. The flare of retros—that wasn’t right. Shells didn’t slow themselves down as they plunged to the ground.

Instead of air-bursting and creating a mushroom cloud, some tiny portion of which contained my fragmented molecules, the falling object blossomed with white flame and landed. When it thudded into the ground not a hundred meters downslope, I ran to it.

My mind was full of possibilities. Could it be Claver himself? Clearly, it was a life-pod. Who else would be crazy enough to come down here now?

I cranked open the hatch, which had bent a little after rolling down the side of the mountain a few meters. Inside, there was nothing living. There was only a polyhedral crate and a note.

Ripping loose the note, I saw scrawled handwriting.

I’ve been executed. Remember our deal, dummy.

It was signed Claver. I opened the crate and stared at the contents. There was a deep-link unit inside.

For the first time in days, I dared to grin.