CHAPTER 1 - IRON FIVE
My MAV is part of a five man team on patrol across this barren Kedenian dunescape. I am Alpha Dog, call sign Huski. On my right, is Dachshund and Pitbull and to my left, Akita and Terrier…names chosen by us based on what breed of dog we have on our respective home planets; it is one of the worthwhile things we all have in common.
MAV’s are the most widely used gear when it comes to military operations, Mechanized Armored Vehicles; walking tanks, so to speak, and just like the rest of the team, mine is a Light-Class Mecha.
We are Legs-Dangling at forty feet above Artificial Ground Level and heading east at seventy miles per hour. My Heads-Up-Display shows me the sandy terrain and all its contours as they intersect with the computer’s generated lines. These lines keep us clear of obstacles but below dune peaks and off enemy radar. Our mission is simple. Patrol the Outlands and report any anomalies, life-forms and or threats. We are to remain on our side of the fence. For no reason, are we to go beyond the digital and imaginary lines which separate us from the locals. At no point are we to go weapons hot unless fired upon and some more blah, blah, blah. Personally; this being an unfriendly world and all, I think this is bullshit. But this is our mission according to SysDef, the System Defense Administration; our Diplomatic Relations Bureau stationed on this rock, eight thousand light-years from Earth. Our Unit is here to assist these slackers because these weekend soldiers wouldn’t know what to do if the Local Guerillas stood on the borderlines and stared them down, let alone declared a full-scaled attack. The only solace these pushovers have is the fact that the Kedenians know the repercussions of such an act. But as history has taught us so very often, it only takes one madman to take the plunge.
So we are the servants of SysDef for the time being. However, we don’t take orders from SysDef. Our directives come from General, Alexander ‘Hawk’ Madison; one of the heads of Earthfront Galactic, the military might and arm of our home planet spread out across the Milky Way. Our real mission, as far as our General is concerned, is to confirm that an Earth Based contingent of rebels is here along with their leader and if they are, we are to eliminate them. According to our most recent intelligence report, a few months ago, an Earthfront military base on Venus was attacked and all of the evidence links our targets to the crime.
Another chill runs through my body as my combat suit, the mechanical and biological link to the machine, cools my skin with filtered air. My communication module lights up.
“Iron Five…one bar to lights out, Link and rep live, over.”
Our unit is Iron Five. One bar to lights out means one hour till sunset. Link and rep live means to contact base and report what is happening. The voice in my ear is feminine yet devoid of femininity. Her name is Mirana O’Canon and she is a genuine hard-assed, straight laced, battleaxe woman who kicks ass and takes no prisoners.
How in the galaxy can a woman be so unwomanly?
I respond “…Huski to base, nothing but sand and rock out here. We’re runnin’ one bar after lights out before headin’ back, over.”
“Roger that Captain, squawk on ret.”
The com goes dead.
Squawk on return is standard procedure when dealing with Earth based military installations. If the pilot of any craft does not give the proper codes when returning to or approaching a base, the 550 millimeter auto-cannons placed around the Station would go active. These bad boys are the most feared armor Killers out there and as any pilot would tell you, respecting them is always a healthy decision to make.
“Alpha…” my Com flashes again. It’s Pitbull on our secure channel “…Keds Roving patrols on scan, seven clicks south.”
“Okay Bull, mark ‘em…” They would show up on my scanners at three kilometers but Bull’s MAV is equipped with heavy sensors and detectors that enable him to see a lot further than any of us. He is our very early warning system and because he has traded most of his heavy weapons for extra eyes and ears, we keep him well protected. “…do we cross paths?”
“I’ve marked ‘em but they’re not gonna cross us…they’re bugging south…”
“Okay maintain course…going dark in two.”
According to my Heads-Up-Display, it is 16:55 Kedenian time, which means that in two minutes, this Solar System’s dimming sun would end Keden’s ten hour daylight time. By the looks of it, tonight is going to be a bit clearer than usual and unless our readings are wrong, there won’t be another sand storm for at least two days.
“Okay fellas, going dark.” I throttle down, bring my engine to hover, and descend until the thud of machine meeting ground, shakes the cockpit. As my MAV’s Automatic Balancing System keeps me from toppling over, the rest of my team falls in beside me. Mentally, I hit the digital key on my visor and watch as we all become rippling reflections of our surroundings.
When we go dark, our stealth capabilities truly come to life. Reflective Regeneration Technology allows our MAVs to blend in to our surroundings while Bull’s jamming equipment keeps us off radar and other sensor systems. I half-consciously check the Neural in the lower right corner of my screen. It is an indicator that monitors the team’s movement, locations and life forces individually. We all feel it, taste it, hear it and are digitally connected to what is called The Neural Link. I can feel the life of the men under my command…a sensation that is often strange and borders on invasive but it becomes natural over time.
“Dogs you’re all a go…” I wait for my check
“Alpha you’re good”
Terrier confirms that my camouflage has engaged.
“Okay let’s make this as clean as possible…” I turn my head toward Pitbull and the outline of his cloaked MAV shows up on my visor; all its info and stats readily available at my command “…Bull, you know what to do. Hound, you’re on guard duty tonight.”
“Roger that Alpha.”
Dachshund’s German accent is still very strong, even after all these years away from home. His job on this run is to guard Pitbull as he scans and jams our enemies. His position is one that’s close enough to Bull to provide protection but near enough to us to come in guns blazing if needed. He is the right man for the job, as he has proven so often before.
**********
I approach the digital lines that divide Earthfront and Kedenian law. There is a feeling of satisfaction in our defiance as my MAV crosses it. The Dune Desert is behind me, all of its massive sand dunes in our wake; I give the signal and we come to a stop.
We are standing on the edge of a small cliff. The drop is two hundred and eighty six feet according to my reading and spreads out as far as the eye could see; one broad, flat, dirt and rock landscape. The view is captivating. Ten miles into the distance, a city sprawls like a massive manmade mountain, made of buildings and endless lights; wide and low on each end and rising near the center. Above it, one of this planet’s two spaceports shines like a large star in the brown sky and every so often, shuttles, like little fireflies, travel to and from it.
I look at the drop-off in front of us; this could be a problem “Terri…I thought you said this was the best route?”
“It is Alpha. It’s the most direct...”
I turn my attention toward the expanse of land beyond our position “Bull…you in position?”
There’s a flicker of static before I hear him “Dug in and watching, over.”
“Hound..?”
“All set sir…”
“Okay boys, on go and fly.”
I do a split second systems check “Ready…” we move closer to the edge “…set…” I push the accelerator and the gears in my MAV whine “…go!”
The three of us take a two-step run, and jumping from the cliff, we free fall with our thrusters cold. My head swims in the sensation of the fall and we kill the stealth; we’ll show up on every radar system within a hundred miles. My altimeter counts down in a frenzy of numbers and now, with a hundred feet to go…
“…fly!”
I fire my engines full blast; every heat detector in the vicinity would see us, but this slows the fall tremendously and I stiffen as the full power of the Sol Combustion engine jolts me into a million shudders. My rate of descent goes from fifty two feet per second to nine feet per second and then I shut the thrusters down, go engines cold again and brace for impact. The titanium legs of my MAV slam into the ground and the hydraulics in them do what they were designed to do. Then we immediately reactivate our camouflage.
Enemy radar and sensors would report our five seconds of madness as a glitch…at least I hope so. Frantic fists pound into my chest as I draw deep breaths of purified air.
“Let’s move.” I give the command and we begin our run toward the City.