Merkiaari Wars: 03 - Operation Oracle Read online

  Fighting for her life.

  He pounced upon her, raking claws and snapping jaws. Shima suddenly knew what her prey felt when she attacked this way. She was the prey now, and it was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. She rolled to the side and onto her back, claws out trying to rend his belly as she would have had this been another Shan attacking. That was her tactic; treat him like Shan because she had never fought with anything else remotely like him.

  Shan no longer fought each other except for play. Cubs and younglings wrestled, but this was a bit more serious. Jaws snapped at her muzzle, and she grabbed his ruff with both hands, trying to turn his head away, but he was incredibly strong. She flexed her fingers and her claws shot out and into his flesh. Blood poured and he went into frenzy, struggling violently and whipping his head back and forth. Froth flew from his snapping jaws, but Shima pushed him back, turning her face away from him, but really having to work at it to keep those teeth out of her hide. She couldn’t hold him!

  He ripped himself free, and leapt away.

  Shima rolled back onto four feet snarling and giving her attacker a good look at her teeth in a show of aggression and ferocity. The fight was all about instinct now. She didn’t fight her people’s natural reactions. She embraced them. Her vision was already tunnelled, centred on her prey. No time for thinking now, her hunt kill reflex had a firm hold upon her. Her scream of rage rose over the forest, quieting the other creatures hiding within it. Her prey had increased the distance between them, but Shima knew what was coming. She braced for the charge, but the beast surprised her again by pouncing a second time. She would have charged. Hit and run strikes were ingrained in her people in these situations, because they would most likely be fighting Shkai’lon or Shkai’ra.

  Shima’s heart thundered within her chest as she met the beast in the air mid-leap. This time Shima had his measure. Her jaws clamped his throat tight, cutting off his air, and she wrapped her arms around his body to hold him while her rear claws went to work on his belly and genitals, ripping into him.

  They crashed to earth, Shima on the bottom but in the ascendant now. She had him where she wanted him. Blood and slippery ropes of entrails gushed out upon the ground, but Shima didn’t release the pressure on his throat. His struggles became desperate but already weakening. She bit harder and harder and harder. Growling and ripping and crushing his throat, and snarling and biting and ripping and...

  Shima slowly came back to herself still chewing into the furry throat and growling. She finally realised the beast had stopped struggling a while ago. The steaming entrails were a pile beside her, and the body a dead weight atop her. Her mouth was thick with alien blood.

  “Hmmm, you do taste good,” Shima mumbled, her mouth still full. Reluctantly she pulled back. “Yum,” she said licking her muzzle clean of blood.

  Shima pushed the corpse off and stood on two legs over it. She wanted to roar her victory, but sadly she had come back to herself now and such things seemed a little primitive from the lofty heights of a civilised being. Perhaps a small one?

  Shima roared, proclaiming victory, and despite herself it wasn’t a small one at all. She sheepishly looked around, hoping Kazim was too far away to hear, but there was a part—a small part—that wished he could have seen her. She was proud of her skill, and that fight had really been something. She was sure that even her father, skilled as he was, would have been impressed.

  Shima reached for her knives and went to work cleaning and butchering her kill.

  Back at her chosen campsite, she washed the blood and stink of death from her body, and then cleaned her equipment. The harness needed special attention; it was thick with blood and other gunk. Her knives were last. She dug a pit and built up earthen walls around it, before building and lighting a fire in the centre with her old spark rock and steel. It didn’t seem strange using primitive tools to make fire. She had used them regularly since her father gifted them to her on their first hunt together. She had been a cub then, barely a year old.

  Shima ate her fill of raw meat, still bleeding on the bone, and then set some to cook on sticks stuck in the ground and angled toward, but not actually in, the flames. She wanted to try some of it cooked just to taste the difference, but also planned on taking some with her to eat on the journey. It should last better cooked, not that it needed to last long. She should be with Gina and the others sometime tomorrow.

  The morning dawned overcast and Shima expected to get wet before she found her friends. She didn’t care. Weather was just something to be endured on a hunt; nothing to be done about it, certainly no point in complaining. Her pelt would shed the rain, and she was warm enough. She had clean water and plenty of cooked meat. She ate some of the uncooked leftovers from her feast last night for breakfast, but left the rest for the scavengers to clean up. She had plenty of cooked meat in pouches on her harness. She wouldn’t need to hunt again today. She buried the ashes from her fire along with the bones in her fire pit, wanting to leave her campsite as she found it. Shima took one last look around, and set off to find her friends. She was determined to do that before night fell.

  Shima travelled quickly, retracing her path and then moving into new territory in a straight line aiming for the river. She was sure Gina wouldn’t cross the river. Not that she couldn’t do so, but where was the need? Shima felt sure she would cut Gina’s trail before reaching it.

  As it turned out, Shima was right, but it took longer than she thought. Gina was heading south still, following the path of the river it seemed. Nothing wrong with that, but surely a survey should cover a wider area? If Shima had to survey the valley, she would have zigzagged west to east to cover more terrain. It would slow the journey south, but that didn’t matter. The task wasn’t to follow the river, and there wasn’t an expiry date on their survey. Whatever the reason, Shima had her friend’s scent and their tracks now. She could quicken her pace even more and catch them easily before night.

  Shima set out to do just that.

  She realised long before finding them where they had to be. On the flight out, Kate had shown her the terrain on one of the shuttle’s displays, and she had pointed out the huge lake at the southern end of the valley where the river entered the gorge. Following the river so closely was the clue. Gina was either at the lake it emptied into, or heading directly for it. Shima didn’t know why. Perhaps Varya wanted to consider it as a location for the colony. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a Shan city to be built on the shores of a lake after all, and the idea quite intrigued her. Still, it did seem odd that the tracks arrowed right toward it without variation. Surely it made more sense to survey the entire valley on the way?

  Whatever the reason, and with the aid of the harmonies and her hunting skills to avoid trouble, she arrived upon the shores of the lake safely by late afternoon.

  “What took you so long,” Kate said, grinning as she approached. She was holding a stick with something edible thrust onto it. A fish. She took a bite. “I thought we might have to send out a rescue party.”

  Shima blinked in consternation. Beyond Kate’s shoulder she could see the shuttle floating upon the lake, and not far down the shore, tents had been set up. There were people there, more than there should be.

  “What?” Shima said feeling very confused.

  “We expected you last night,” Kate said, stepping closer and offering the stick. “It’s good, try some.”

  Shima mechanically took a piece of fish off the stick with her claws and popped it into her mouth. Flavour exploded upon her tongue, and her eyes widened. Kate nodded and offered the entire stick to take. Shima took it and ate more of the silvery blue fish. It tasted wonderful. It had been prepared with herbs and butter it tasted like, and cooked to perfection. She finished it and licked her chops ready for more.

  “What’s happening, Kate?”

  Kate led her back toward the others. “It was Gina’s idea. Now your eyes are fixed, you’ll probably be going home soon. She wanted to thank you for a
ll you did for us during the war by helping to make some good memories. Did it work?”

  Shima remembered the tuskers and then her fight with the not-Shan thing she hadn’t named. “Yes, it’s been a good hunt so far.”

  “Great!” Kate said. “Bet you didn’t know Stone is a fiend for fishing, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I!”

  Shima laughed. “Who is your cook? The fish tasted fantastic.”

  “Chailen. She’s been cooking all day for your vacation feast. We have the whole week to play and have fun, more if you want. The General didn’t specify when he wanted us back and we’re only a few hours away by shuttle anyway if he calls.”

  They reached the tents and Shima learned the depth of the deception. Chailen and Sharn came up and hugged her laughing about how Shima just happened to meet Kate’s shuttle arriving at Petruso airstrip. Gina laughed at her outraged glare. Cragg offered another fish on a stick, and she took it greedily. He was already eating one. Varya raised a hand in greeting. Stone nodded to her from where he crouched before the fire taking care of Chailen’s pots where they bubbled and steamed with wonderful smells of cooking.

  There was one person missing. “Where’s Kazim?” Shima said, trying not to sound concerned.

  Chailen and Sharn stepped apart and pointed. Shima looked beyond the camp to find a lonely figure standing on the edge of the water, looking her way. He had his camera in one hand, but not pointed.

  Shima handed her empty stick to Chailen wordlessly and went to join him.

  * * *

  13 ~ Operation Oracle

  Tech Centre. Operation Annihilate simulation

  Gina awoke still in her acceleration couch, but the couch wasn’t where she had left it. She was face down and the surface she lay upon was getting hot. She squirmed and found the harness release. The seat felt like it weighed a ton; she could hardly move under its weight. That worried her because there was fire, and a viper shouldn’t sweat the weight of a single metal seat, and there was fire... and you know, fire!

  She twisted and fumbled the harness loose and was finally able to drag herself from under the seat. When she staggered erect, she realised why the weight had been so crushing. The dropship was trashed and the fuselage was crumpled. Her seat had been on the starboard side, but although it was still securely bolted to the bulkhead that the designers had intended, it was now on the port side of the ship.

  Gina shook her head and kicked her way free of debris coughing and choking on the smoke starting to fill the ship. She grabbed her rifle from the deck where it had ended wedged under the seat after the crash. The screams and cries of the wounded and dying pulled her in multiple directions. She needed to give aid, but first she needed to find a way out.

  Blood trickled into her eyes and she irritably wiped it away. The fires were getting worse and with it the screaming. She spun in place and staggered. Her leg wasn’t working right, and for the first time she took notice of her own diagnostics.

  >_ Diagnostics: Left leg impaired, knee joint 25%. Lung capacity 87%.

  >_ IMS: Repairs in progress.

  >_ Diagnostics: Unit fit for duty.

  The knee blazed with pain despite her IMS flooding the area with pain blockers. It was three times the size it should be and her uniform was stretched tight over it. Every time she moved, her thigh and shin armour caught and gouged it sickeningly. Cold sweat popped out on her forehead and she grunted as she forced her way forward.

  There were many bodies scattered, impaled, and crushed within the ship. Most were sleeping the little death, their beacons flashing and reporting their readiness for pickup, but not all. Too many were true dead. Gina left them alone and continued forward to the other troop hold. The screams were coming from there.

  The hatch was jammed part way open, and smoke boiled through the gap. Gina wrenched at the obstinate hatch and it groaned open another few inches, but then stopped. She put her shoulder to it and heaved. No movement. She wedged herself further into the gap and used her body like a hydraulic jack. Her knee was screaming, but she forced it to bend until her feet were positioned against the hull. Then she slowly straightened her legs.

  >_ Diagnostics: critical damage warning... left knee 23%... 21%... 17%...

  The pain, the pain, the pain! Gina screamed at the agony, but the screams of her companions were worse than any torture. The warning kept flashing on her internal display, counting down to complete failure of her knee. If it did fail, the joint would need complete replacement in sickbay. Anything else would take time, but could be repaired by IMS in the field with her own resources. She kept pushing, but the pain...

  Computer: Melee mode

  The world slowed and the pain went away. Ahh... the relief was heaven. Gina knew it was all illusion. Melee mode suppressed pain responses, so she could do things that would otherwise make her pass out or quit. She wouldn’t quit, and the damage continued to pile up. She eased off on the pressure, and then kicked hard with both legs. The hatch juddered open a little more.

  >_ Diagnostics: critical damage warning... left knee 14%

  She kicked again.

  >_ Diagnostics: critical damage warning... left knee 11%

  The hatch slammed open and she fell into the troop hold. The screams were less, the flashing beacons had multiplied on her sensors. Gina rolled around clutching her knee. The pain was leaking passed the block. That shouldn’t happen, but it was happening, and she rolled around clutching her pain. The sharp agony slowly dulled to a throbbing heat and she turned to discover the horror.

  Her comrades were burning where they sat trapped unable to escape. A fuel line must have ruptured and a jet of fire was playing directly on to a section of the ship where vipers were still mustered in their couches. They were... Gina gulped, trying to force the images out of her head, but vipers could not forget. The flames had been held back by viper armour and nano-processed uniforms, for a while anyway, but they had failed eventually and the flesh beneath had been burned away.

  She saw men and women with no faces. Their metallic bones burned clean and horrifyingly shiny and visible. Surely they would die, their brains cooked, but they were still moving! Gina’s guts heaved. Why weren’t they in hibernation or dead? Everywhere she looked she saw horror—arms that had no flesh, but still moved trying to get free, faceless people screaming, and bodies burned down to the bone with things moving inside as they struggled struggled struggled! Viper biomech muscles were proving their resilience and resistance to fire in a horrifying manner. Bodies twitching and wrenching at debris while completely engulfed in fire, pinned by the crumpled ship that had failed to protect its cargo. The horror was everywhere she looked.

  Gina was still in melee mode and boosted to the max. She forced herself up and into that hell. She had to shut off the fuel. She even knew how to do it, though she’d never had to for real. Wolfcub class dropships had an engineering section just aft of the cockpit. She could see it, just beyond the flames.

  Gina found a helmet on the deck and pulled it on over her own burns. She had awoken with them, and knew they were the result of a previous battle and not caused here. She didn’t know where her own helmet was and didn’t care. It would keep the heat out of her eyes for a while. Without hesitation, she forced herself to climb over the wreckage and into the fire. The temperature soared around her, and warnings proliferated upon her display. Smoke and pollutants caused by burning synthetics scoured her throat and burned already damaged lungs. The pain in her knee was forgotten as her hands burned. She had no gloves and was having to pull herself forward grasping hot metal.

  Finally, she was over the hurdle and staggering forward. She glanced at her friends in their couches, but all in this section were in hibernation. A lot of internal injuries she guessed, because outwardly they didn’t look too bad. Was she the only one to remain conscious on the entire ship? She looked into the cockpit but only briefly. Both pilots were true dead. They had to be. They’d been cut in half. N
othing could survive that. She wanted to scream when she saw the co-pilot move a little. The top half anyway.

  She found the emergency fuel shut off and flipped the switch. Darkness filled the ship’s interior as the flames died. The screaming turned to whimpers and groans, but one by one they fell silent and more beacons started flashing.

  “Oh Jesus...” she hissed throwing the helmet down and leaning to take the weight off her knee.. “Oh Jesus....” she mumbled and wiped blood out of her eyes. And tears. “Oh Jesus...”

  She was shaking and feeling shocky. She turned, feeling the world drift around in slow motion. That was when she knew what was wrong. Still in melee mode and boosted to the max, her IMS was as close to offline as it came short of true death. It didn’t have the resources to fix her up, and she could tell she was in a bad way. She wasn’t getting enough air and felt light headed.

  Computer: combat mode

  The world sped back up and Gina screamed in agony. Her knee buckled and she fell against the engineering consol. Oh God it hurt! Her internal display was suddenly flooded with data. Flashing multicoloured icons and numbers competed for attention, and despite her coughing and need to get out, she had to deal with some of it.

  Lung capacity 43%, left knee 11%, miscellaneous burns and contusions. Combat effectiveness 61%. Maintenance mode recommended.

  Enter maintenance mode [Y]es/[N]o?

  >_ N

  “Dumb machine,” Gina grumped.

  This was no time to sleep. Now she had the time to think, she knew why the others had burned without entering hibernation. Their systems were intelligent enough to assess risks—that was part of what made vipers so dangerous in combat. Their processors had known letting them sleep in the fire would kill them, so it hadn’t allowed it. Simple as that. So stupid, but totally logical. Those vipers would have burned to death and remained aware the entire time because the viper design team programmed them to survive at any cost. Pain? Sanity? Everything sacrificed for survival.