Steel World (17 page)

While we hunkered down and endured the crack and whine of fire from above, quartermasters ran down the line and issued us new equipment: scopes and extended barrels for our snap-rifles.

It quickly became a game of cat and mouse. We nosed our way out of cover, eyeing the cliffs. Sometimes, an enemy sniper sighted us before we did him. In that case, our man went down with a new hole in his skull.

Almost as often, one of our light infantry spotted an enemy sniper lifting his scaly snout over the top of the cliff. When that happened, we painted the target with an infrared beam and everyone leaned out and blew the lizard away.

It was difficult, as the range and angle weren’t the best, and it’s always easier to have the high ground, but we took them all out in time. There were just too many of us: A thousand light-infantry gunners against two hundred or so saurians. They didn’t really have a chance.

After twenty minutes, they stopped sniping at us. They’d either withdrawn or they were all dead.

“Did you get any hits?” Carlos asked me excitedly.

I nodded. “One.”

“Kill-shot?”

“I think so.”

“Lucky frigger. I shot two, but they were both already sliding down the side of the mountain.”

“Too bad.”

When the all-clear was sounded, we headed back toward our bunker. A familiar voice behind us called us back.

“Not you guys, not today,” Harris said. “All my light infantry are to report to the mine entrance.”

We did a collective U-turn and headed for the base of the cliffs. There, sealed portals were located. We found our units and lined up, rifles held to chests, visors shut.

We were met there by none other than Centurion Graves himself.

“All right,” he said. “This is real, people. We’ve just had snipers appear on the roof, coming out of those air shafts. We’ve got reports of more enemy intrusions in the lower regions of the mine itself. It’s our belief they tunneled in from the far side of this mountain.”

We looked at each other in alarm. I could read everyone’s thoughts:
some worker’s rebellion this was turning out to be.

“We’re going in, squad by squad. Inside there are lots of twisty tunnels. Most of them lead downward. But there are shafts, too. Avoid those. They go straight down with sheer sides to the bottom. When I say the bottom, I mean two or three miles deep.”

“This already sounds like bullshit,” Carlos told me. “You better give the bio running the revival unit a tip. She’s going to be earning it today.”

I took a breath and hoped he was wrong.

“When you get into the tunnels, spread out into fire teams of five. A weaponeer or a veteran will be leading every team. Our mission is to locate the enemy. Due to a high content of metals, the tunnels are immune to our sensors. If you make contact, withdraw and report in person. Do not attempt to repel the enemy alone. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a general shout of: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Graves was walking along the line, eyeing each of us in turn. He stopped when he got to me.

“One last thing, recruits,” he said. “There are a lot of goodies down there:  Uranium, gold, diamonds—every mineral worth stealing that you’ve ever heard of and plenty that you haven’t. But we aren’t going to take anything. Do you know why?”

He was looking straight into my eyes as he said this. I felt like he was asking me personally, but at the same time I was pretty sure he was talking to the entire unit. The fact that he was shouting every word reinforced this impression.

I stared straight ahead, deciding to play dumb. After a few seconds, he walked away to stare down another recruit.

Carlos chose this moment to pipe up with an answer to the Centurion’s last question, which I was pretty sure was rhetorical.

“Because we aren’t thieves, sir?”

Graves whirled around on him and marched back. Since Carlos had planted himself at my side, as he usually did, this made for an uncomfortable proximity between me and the officer.

Just in case some form of discipline was required, Veteran Harris rushed close as well. He glared at Carlos from under bushy eyebrows.

“Would you care to elaborate, Recruit?” Graves asked.

“We shouldn’t take anything. The saurians hired us, and we’re here to protect the mine, not steal from it.”

I could tell Carlos was stressed. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

The centurion stared at him for a moment longer, then walked away slowly.

“That’s a good answer, Recruit,” he said.

Carlos was visibly relieved.

“But it’s wrong,” the officer finished. He nodded to Veteran Harris. “Veteran, could you explain it to them, please?”

“I’d be glad to, sir.”

As the Centurion walked away, Veteran Harris walked the line like a tiger pacing in his cage, a pissed-off, hungry tiger.

“Let me clue you morons into some realities,” he shouted. “The reason why none of you will steal so much as a hairpin of metal from this planet is right above us.”

He pointed his finger up dramatically into the sky. We all glanced up, seeing nothing but hazy clouds. We quickly returned our eyes to the front and center.

“I’m talking about that big ship up there in the sky. The
Corvus
is a
troop
transport, people. It is licensed and contracted to do one thing: carry an Earth legion. That’s it, nothing else. If we’re caught smuggling local goods off-world—especially the very materials that the good fork-tongued residents of Cancri-9 sell to the Galactics—we’ll be found in violation of every treaty Earth ever signed.”

He paused for a moment while he let that sink in. I understood the problem immediately. Cancri-9 was called Steel World because it was extremely mineral-rich. That’s what they provided to other worlds—minerals. If we took a sample, we would be violating not just local law but Galactic Law.

“And do you lazy, thieving, good-for-nothing, sorry sacks of excrement know what the penalty for breaking any Galactic Law is?”

That one was easy. We answered in unison, as we had to our teachers in every grade since kindergarten.

“Death, sir!”

He nodded. “That’s right. If any of you are caught, you’ll be executed. And you will not be revived, not even to hang you a few more times for fun. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Veteran!”

“That’s good.”

He looked back to Centurion Graves, who nodded. We were quickly broken up into fire teams and sent into the mines.

For some reason, my team didn’t get deployed until last. Veteran Harris was the only leader left standing with us—except for Centurion Graves himself. Carlos and I exchanged alarmed glances. We’d been rewarded with the gracious presence of Harris again?

The truth, when we realized it fully, was worse than that.

Centurion Graves suited up in combat armor and marched into the portal, with Harris trailing him. He looked over his shoulder at Carlos and me. His face instantly darkened.

“What are you two dogs waiting for? Get your butts over here and open the door for the Centurion!”

We rushed forward, unable to believe our good fortune. We were to be personally led into the tunnels by Graves
and
Harris. It was the best of everything.

-12-

The interior was dark and forbidding. When they’d said this world was high in metals, they hadn’t been kidding around. The upper crust was silicate matter—rocks and sand—but down here it was mostly metal and carbon mixed with rock. Graphite and melted iron was everywhere, fused into the walls in silvery-gray lines.

The portal itself was insanely thick and apparently solid steel. When the portal shut with a tremendous clang, at least a meter of metal stood between us and the hot surface of the world.

“You know what that is, McGill?” Carlos asked me. “The sound of doom.”

“Shut up, Carlos,” I said, without looking at him.

“Keep in mind,” Graves was saying, addressing everyone on the team, “we’re now cut off from radio contact. Once you go underground anywhere on Steel World, there’s very little radio range. The metals interfere too much.”

There were about ten of us circled together just inside the portal. Graves was the only one who didn’t look nervous.

We formed up, and I tried to get close to Natasha. I liked her company and was already planning pleasant things to say to her.

Veteran Harris squashed my plans by waving me forward. I moved up the column and took a position on the right flank. He smiled and waved harder.

I knew what that meant: I was taking point. It was a thing between the veteran and me, I realized that now. He liked putting me into danger. He wanted to see me die a few extra times. Not having any other way to deal with it, I’d decided to pretend I didn’t care. So far, that hadn’t been working.

“Pair them up,” Centurion Graves said.

Harris ran his eyes over the rest of us. They came to rest on Carlos, and his smile turned into a grin.

“Let’s see if you can keep quiet in enemy territory. Partner up with McGill.”

Moments later, Carlos and I found ourselves ahead of our little patrol team. Since we were the last team to enter, I could see the flashing lights and hear the tapping feet of the other teams ahead. I started to relax. If there was going to be trouble, surely they would run into it before we did.

My relief was short-lived.

“We’re going to spread out,” Centurion Graves announced to the team. “Each team is to cover a different level. In case you’re wondering, we’re covering the bottom level—the one labeled ‘incomplete’ on your tappers.”

We all checked our tappers, making sure they were in working order. When you had your suit on, the normal screen embedded just under the skin was naturally covered up. But Legion Varus had an easy work around for that. The smart cloth immediately over the tapper relayed the glowing data onto the surface of the fabric. The system worked pretty well, but occasionally you had to peck at it two or three times to get a tap to register when your sleeve wasn’t perfectly smooth.

I crouched and brought up my mapping screen on my arm. I tapped at a little red down-arrow until I was at a level of the map that displayed “incomplete” and I frowned. There were tunnels down there but nothing like the higher levels. They trailed off, and many of them had dashed lines. I turned back to Harris.

“Veteran? What do the dashed lines mean?”

“Those are flooded zones, cave-ins,” he shrugged. “Areas that are full of rubble. Incomplete means not finished yet.”

“How do we get down there?” Carlos asked, looking this way and that down the long, echoing tunnels.

“Elevators are dead ahead. But we’re not going that way. They shut them down because no one wanted to give the enemy an easy way to move around. We’ll take the tubes. They’re over there.”

I followed his pointing finger with my eyes. I saw the mouth of the tubes, which resembled two black holes like eye sockets in a skull. They were cut into the wall of the tunnel we were in, and they appeared to go down into nothingness.

We found junk everywhere as we moved forward. Broken tools and machines with power-meters registering zero lined the dusty walls. There was a small pile of helmets shaped like a saurian’s head and a few scattered bullets rolled around under our boots.

I moved forward, my eyes behind my rifle. I aimed my rifle down the shaft and looked around, using the night vision scope. I could see movement.

“Someone’s down there,” I reported, “but they look friendly.”

“Should be,” Harris said in my ear. “Most of the teams are using the shafts to reach their assigned levels.”

I looked back at Harris. “Do we rappel down, or…?”

“Just jump in there. You’ll float down.”

I almost did it, but hesitated. Carlos frowned and glared back at Harris. “You trying to kill us right off, Veteran?”

“Oh, sorry!” Harris said, coming forward. “You’re supposed to take this and put it under your feet, first.”

He reached over and grabbed a pair of disk-like things out of a barrel. He handed one to each of us.

“Careful not to flip over,” he said, giving us a little grin.

Centurion Graves shouldered forward. He appeared to be annoyed with Harris and at us for causing a delay.

“Here, put them on like this,” he said impatiently, demonstrating. “They’re built for saurians, but they’ll hold a human if you balance right. You boys ever ride a skateboard?”

We shook our heads.

He cursed in disgust and told us it was just like surfing or skiing. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hadn’t done a lot of either in the hills of Georgia, and I could tell Carlos, who was from the Chicago mega-habs, didn’t know what to make of it either.

As recruits, it was our job to obey rather than to complain—at least when our superiors were listening. We put the damned hubcap-looking things on our feet and stepped off into the shaft.

At the last minute, Harris gave me a little shove.