Undying Mercenaries: Machine World Part 1

MACHINE WORLD.

by B. V. Larson.

Earths Legion Structure, circa 2125.

Earths fighting forces are divided into two major strata. Most of the s.h.i.+ps and troops are under the command of Hegemony, a planetary force focused on home world defense. The balance of the military is organized into independent legions.

The legions are hired out to fight off-world in other Frontier 921 star systems. The troops in these legions represent virtually all Earths forces with combat experience.

The highest ranking officers are all members of Hegemony. The rank of tribune (equivalent to a brigadier general in the past) is the highest honor obtainable by a member of any independent legion.

The ranks are as follows:.

Consul: Equivalent to a five-star general in Earths multi-national past. The rank of consul is a temporary one, only created in times of all-out war with neighboring powers. Multiple consuls are possible, if Earth should find itself in wars on multiple fronts.

Praetor: A four-star general. This is a rare rank, but not a singular one. All consuls are drawn from this pool of top officers.

Equestrian: A three-star general. This rank is the highest rank that may actually take to the field in war and is charged with handling an entire front in wartime. An Equestrian might lead the defensive efforts of an entire world or multiple worlds.

Imperator: A two-star general. Imperators are often utilized to coordinate the efforts of multiple legions involved in a single conflict.

Tribune: A one-star or "brigadier" general. All legions are led by a tribune, and they have an unusual degree of autonomy within their mission parameters. A legion is made up of ten to fifteen cohorts. Half the cohorts are light troops with poor gear, and half heavily armed and armored. Some legions have specialized cohorts attached that are designated as auxiliary.

Primus: The equivalent of a colonel. A primus leads a cohort, which is made up of ten regular Units, about twelve hundred soldiers strong.

Centurion: A centurion is a battlefield commander leading approximately a hundred and twenty troops. The equivalent of a captain, centurions lead their unit into battle personally. They are the highest-ranked front line troops.

Adjunct: Adjuncts operate as lieutenants supporting their centurion. There are normally three adjuncts in every unit.

Veteran: The highest rank attainable by enlisted personnel. Those warriors honored with the rank of veteran are equivalent to the master sergeants of the past. There are several veterans in each unit, and it is their job to support the officers.

Specialist: Specialists are lower-level non-commissioned officers. Theyre valued for their training more than their command skills. They have a wide variety of specialties, but the most common three are bio specialists, weaponeers and techs.

Regular: A regular troop is an experienced individual who has been proven in battle. Theyre more likely to be issued expensive armor and weapons, placing them in a cohort of heavy infantry rather than a light infantry formation. This rank is equivalent to that of a private first cla.s.s.

Recruit: The starting place for all new soldiers. These are the least experienced people in the legion, and consequently theyre always placed in light infantry cohorts with the cheapest weaponry. Good alien-made equipment is expensive, and normally its only issued to people with proven skills.

Recruits are often referred to as "splats" due to their tendency to experience frequent, violent death.

"A coward dies many times before meeting his actual death."

Julius Caesar, 48 BC.

-1-.

Earth had gone through several dramatic changes during my years as an adult. First, wed been thrown into an economic tail-spin when Cancri-9, better known as Steel World, had canceled our most lucrative legion contracts. Years later, wed been given a boost in budget coming from the Empires coffers to handle local defense. Times were good back then.

Things had s.h.i.+fted yet again this year. After reestablis.h.i.+ng contact with the cephalopod race at Tech World-and somehow ending up in a state of undeclared war with them-Earth was tightening up her collective belt all over again.

It wasnt that we didnt have money. The Mogwa, a race of Galactics that were struggling with their peers for dominance among the Core Systems, essentially owned our backwater province. Either as part of their strategy or because we were just a small line-item in a vast budget, they were still sending us funding in the form of hard Galactic currency.

What had changed was Hegemony Governments state of mind. Our worldwide politicians and bureaucrats were rationing everything, spending every spare credit on our military effort. I understood the goal, but it was annoying.

Gone were the days when a trooper could buy himself an alien-made contrivance for the fun of it. All the best imported stuff went straight to the legions. Theyd stopped paying us in Galactic Credits too, opting instead to issue Hegemony Credits to soldiers. Whats more, the established rate of exchange was ruinous. In the past, about a thousand Hegemony Credits had been deemed worth a single Galactic Credit-but they were now giving us less than half that after the accounting was all said and done.

"Crooked government stooges!" Carlos complained bitterly over a beer in legion Varus Chapter House in Atlanta. "At least weve finally got a cheap pub in our Chapter House."

I nodded and sipped a sour beer. They had it on tap, and they sold it cheap. That was about all I could say that was positive about this bitter, foamy, p.i.s.s-water. I suspected the reason theyd opened a bar at one end of Atlantas row of legion Chapter Houses was a sneaky one. The bar was a trick, an inexpensive way to buy off troops like Carlos and me. Sure, wed lost half our income in some kind of shady, computerized money-shuffle, but at least we could get drunk for less to drown our sorrows.

Making a face, I gulped my mug dry and slammed it down. The bartender behind the counter winced, looking at us in concern.

"You two arent about to make trouble, are you?" she asked.

"What?" demanded Carlos. "Do Varus troops have that bad of a rep?"

"Youre getting there. We had a serious fight last night. They had to call in the MPs. There were two deaths, and one of the revives has been placed on hold pending an inquiry."

I shook my head, snorting. "Let me guess, theyre holding up the Varus guys revive, right? What was his name?"

The bartender shrugged and frowned, thinking for a moment. "A big guy. Sargon was his name, I think."

"Hot d.a.m.n!" I said. "I wish Id been here to watch his back. Poor Sargon."

Carlos nudged me. "Why dont you go charm the Imperator? I bet shed squeeze out a revive for him if you handled her right."

Carlos was talking about Imperator Turov, whod had a questionable relations.h.i.+p with me last year. I gave him a sour glance and waved for a fresh beer. The bartender poured it, but I could tell she was wary about feeding us any more alcohol.

"That business with the Imperator is all over with, Carlos," I said. "She doesnt care if I live or die now."

I lifted a fresh mug toward my face, but the beer never reached my lips. A hand interposed itself, touching my wrist to block the path of my beverage. The hand was fairly strong, but pale-skinned and thin-boned.

Getting between a drinking man and his brew was rarely a good idea, but it was especially ill-advised in the case of a Legion Varus trooper. We just didnt take that kind of c.r.a.p from anyone.

Without even thinking about it, I rotated toward the intruder. My other hand was already balled up into a fist, and it levered back almost on its own, ready to deliver a hammer-blow. Behind the bar, the bartender had already hit the floor. She was probably summoning the cops on her tapper-but I didnt much care.

The only thing that stopped me from slamming my fist into the face I saw standing over me was recognition.

"Winslade?"

I could tell right off he knew hed miscalculated by grabbing my wrist. His hand leapt off mine and he backed up a step.

"McGill," he said, trying to pretend I hadnt scared him. "You know striking an officer is a flogging offense, yes?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, as if gauging my options. Finally, I lowered my fist and purposefully turned back to my beer. I took a drink, made a bitter face, and waited for him to explain himself.

Winslade was Turovs lapdog. He was a suck-up and worse. Hed abandoned Legion Varus for Hegemony at the same time Turov had. That was a shameful thing in the eyes of any off-world combat legionnaire. We knew that men who couldnt handle real fighting often sought cush jobs in office buildings on safe, reliable dirt.

"Youre drunk, arent you?" Winslade demanded. "Thats great. What else should I have expected?"

"This is a bar, sir," Carlos pointed out. "And were off-duty."

Winslade nodded. "You were off-duty. Youre back on as of now, McGill."

He finally had my complete attention. "Whats up, Adjunct?"

He was a prissy officer, as they went, and I could tell he didnt like my lack of deference. I could see his annoyance in the way his lips twitched and his eyes narrowed-but I just didnt care about that right now.

"Im here to transport you up to Hegemony Central. In Northeast Sector."

"I know where it is," I said, frowning.

The worldwide seat of Hegemony Government had been established on a chunk of land that had long ago been known as Connecticut. Id never thought much about why the powers-that-be had chosen that small plot of the planet to elevate to the status of a new capital, but I supposed it was the same reason theyd built Was.h.i.+ngton D. C. in the first place: it was close to where the important people lived.

"Why the h.e.l.l are you taking McGill to the capital?" Carlos demanded, immediately jealous. "What about me? If he did anything cool, it was only due to my private counseling."

This statement seemed to amuse Winslade. Hed gotten over his rush of fear concerning my fist, and he was back to his usual slick, self-confident att.i.tude.

"What if Im taking him up there to be properly permed?" Winslade asked.

"Well then," Carlos said, "in that case Im not responsible. In fact, McGill has been acting strange lately. Like hes hiding something. Maybe you should go out to his shack in the swamp and mess with him tonight. He loves that."

Winslade nodded at Carlos dismissively and gestured to me with his fingers as if he was beckoning to a dog. "Follow me, McGill."

"Youre a hog," I pointed out rudely. "An officer, but still a hog. I need orders from my own legion."

Winslades face remained confident and bemused. "Have you checked your tapper lately, Specialist?"

Frowning, I looked down at my arm. The mail light was blinking red. A priority message was waiting for me in my inbox. I didnt even have to read it. I knew Winslade had me.

"All right," I said, accepting that I was beaten. Winslade was the kind of guy who waited until he had all the cards before making a move. There was no point in arguing with him now. It would just give him the thrill of backing me down.

I slapped a twenty credit piece on the bar and stood up. "See you, Carlos. Lets go, Winslade."

I followed the officer to the door.

"Hes paying for mine, too," I heard Carlos tell the barkeep.

I shook my head. Id meant to leave the girl a big tip. It was the least I could do after scaring her half to death.

Exiting into the parking lot, I followed Winslade to a sleek black contraption parked out on the periphery of the puff-crete pavement.

"Is that an air car?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Personal use. Dont tell me youve never been in one before?"

"I rode in one that I liberated from a Galactic once," I said, giving him a grin.

His face froze in a mask that told me Id given him more information than he wanted to hear. He opened the canopy, and I climbed over the wing and slid onto the plush saurian-hide seats. He climbed in the other side.

"Dont talk like that," he said seriously. "About Galactics, I mean. Not even if youre joking around."

"You think theyre bugging the alien-made cars now?"

"Maybe," he said, licking his lips and powering up the air car.

The strange vehicle vibrated for about ten seconds then launched into the sky with alarming power. We rose up into the clouds and leveled off. The only sounds were the thrumming of the engine and the muted rush of air flowing over the dual canopies.

"What do you want from me, anyway?" I asked.

"Xlur wants you. Hes waiting for us up at Central."

This statement, at long last, cut through my state of intoxication. Up until then, Id been just another hard-drinking trooper in a foul mood. Now I knew things were serious.

Xlur was one of the Mogwa. He was, for all intents and purposes, a pharaoh on Earth. A G.o.d-king who wielded the ultimate authority of the Galactics within the boundaries of Frontier 921.

Id met Chief Inspector Xlur previously under unfortunate circ.u.mstances. I sincerely hoped that he didnt recognize me this time around.

-2-.

Whenever Winslade crawled out from under his rock, I knew Imperator Turov must have ordered him to do it. Sure enough, when we got to Central we landed on top of Hegemony headquarters and were transported via a smart-elevator to her office.

She started off by making a speech, which I quickly tuned out. I found myself staring at her rear while she strutted back and forth over her new, plush carpet.

We were near the top of what had to be one of the biggest buildings Id ever seen in my life. Hegemony headquarters made the old Pentagon building look like a joke. It was shaped like a ziggurat and contained a thousand stories of stacked puff-crete, reaching as high as a mountaintop. Outside Turovs slanted, floor-to-ceiling office window, I could see clouds scudding along far below us, obscuring the surrounding city streets.

My eyes roved from the fantastic external view to Turovs b.u.t.t and back again. Once in a while she caught me looking, but she didnt complain. I honestly thought she might be enjoying my distraction. Sometimes she did stuff like that, wearing uniforms with smart-cloth cinched up a few notches beyond tight and marching around to show herself off. Since her last revive, shed been restored to an unreasonable point of youth and beauty in her life. She looked like she was about twenty years old even though she was twice that in actual age.

"James," she said, interrupting my reverie. "Wake up. You must pretend youre an officer when you meet Xlur."

"You want me to impersonate an officer?" I asked. "Whys that?"

"Because I dont want to explain why a noncom was involved in an Interstellar diplomatic disaster."

"Why does Xlur want to see me at all, sir?"

The Imperator made an irritated gesture. "I dont know. It was the Nairbs that made the initial request. First, they demanded a roster of the people involved-we thought maybe they were drawing up charges. Now, Im not so sure. Xlur has taken up the matter personally, but instead of lodging formal accusations, hes demanded this interview. The four of us talked to the cephalopods in person, so we must all be present when Xlur calls upon us."

"Well, Ive got a solution to this business of rank, sir. All you have to do is make me an officer. Primus sounds nice, but Id settle for adjunct if I had to-"

"Shut up. You havent even been confirmed as a veteran yet. I find this kind of blatant rank-climbing personally disgusting, McGill."