Authors: Zachary Deaderick
Back behind the safety of the perimeter walls, Sanders runs through the perimeter cameras and checks in on the security teams.
The large wooden desk hides a holo screen beneath the blotter in the center and the empty inbox and outbox give the look of a symbolic desk. Sanders leans back in the reinforced chair flipping through the security feeds from the walls, watching the feed inside his helmet.
“About those other jobs,
” Davis says stepping around the corner.
“What other jobs,” Sanders answers still scrolling through cameras and checking any changes in the appearance of the wall.
“You told Miller you’d take another job if you thought it needed doing. Well we have other jobs that we are particularly suited for. Jobs that require a Grendels unit.”
Blinking twice to dismiss the extra feeds, Sanders looks at Davis, “You talking about going and helping put down that rebellion?”
“Look Sanders, you and I both know this team was born in the fire and that's where we will end up again one day. You said it yourself, we are going to be around long after this family is long dead. What are we going to do then, guard their children?”
Sanders turns the chair to face Davis full on but stays reclined in the chair.
“I mean we already have more money than any of us can spend if we don’t start buying ships or something ludicrous. We have all the hardware to outfit a combat unit. The two Hunters, a drop ship to carry them both into battle, and pilots for both. We go do this thing and then we come back to the security business.”
“You think O will just wait on us to wrap up our little playdate out on the playground down the block? I’m certain the compound would remain secure. They would need orbital
bombardment to breach the defenses and we both know they are never going to get cleared for that. What about personal security for any excursions into town?”
“You know they can handle it. The security crew has twelve operators. They aren’t
Grendels by any means but hell they were Special Forces back in one engagement or another. We’d only be gone for a month or two at max. How long do you think two worlds can hold out against a full scale invasion? Besides we can just pull other Kinetic Solutions assets and double the house compliment.”
“You itching to go back into combat?” Sanders.
“And you aren’t? You remember it. There is nothing like the thrill of rising up to the thrill of a fight and coming out victors. ‘Once you’ve known the thrill of hunting man nothing else will suffice,’ or something like that?”
“Who says we come out on
top? Sure the rebels will lose, but we could come out on the losing end of one gunfight or another. You want to put our boys at risk because you are all chomping at the bit?”
The words stung Sanders own mouth as they came out. The adrenaline building in his own veins at the thrill of another dive into the fray sends his heart rate
spiraling quickly up.
“Look Sanders you and I both know the KS teams in place to handle the invasion are going to suffer much higher casualties than we would if we went. So just look at it like we are allowing those guys to get to go home to their families. And don’t act all high and mighty to me man, I knew you back before we upgraded. Back before you were The Captain Sanders. Back when we would go out drinking after coming back from a raid.”
“I’ll think about it,” Sanders says turning in the chair and pulling open a drawer.
“Alright,” Davis says starting to turn away, “But just know that some of the other guys are talking about walking and going it solo. Maybe picking up a team of their own and heading out to the rim.”
“Noted,” Sanders replies flatly.
The door closes around the corner at the entrance to the office.
Before it was different. Before we were hunting squids. They aren’t human and even when we were hunting humans they were terrorists out killing civilians. This is some sort of corporate contract blowout gone wrong.
Well the least I can do is look into it and see who’s fighting for what. . .
An hour later, sifting through dozens of news services Sanders comes to a conclusion.
“Looks like they thought they could just steal a couple of planets using the mining ships they borrowed.”
“What’s that?” Carl Owens says stepping into the office.
“Huh, oh hey sir, how are you doing?”
“Doing well, something got you interested in this planetary rights dispute?”
“One of my guys asked about it and I thought I could at least look into it for them.”
“Just got a message that someone was using a top-tier clearance to look into our tactical movements. I figured it might have been you and thought if you were looking might as well ask what you think about it.”
Sanders stands up and walks around the desk to look out the reinforced window, “Honestly sir, the claim to the planet could go either way. They did lie about the equipment being down for the eight months they used it to terraform the planet. Once they got it back up they fulfilled the original contract but the rental fee for checking out the equipment for eight
months would be huge. How they got away with it for a decade before someone pieced together the timetables is a better question.”
O grins ear to ear sliding his hands in his pockets, “No I meant about our tactical position for invading the planet. What is the high-low for losses?”
Sanders pauses looking out the window for a long time replaying the images of the formations, numbers and defensive capabilities in his head. He shakes the numbers again until they solidify into a concrete answer.
“Sir, you’ll lose a pretty good few. Their resources have given them the money to produce some decent armament. Looks like they have some big orders completed by Mjolnir Armaments. Means either they have heavy armor, air support or
Grendels. Any one of those three and you’re going to have it tough.”
“Unless I deploy my own
Grendels?” O asks.
“Yes you could always do that, it levels the playing field, and all but guarantees to keep your losses at a minimum, but you’re risking assets you can’t replace easily and moving invaluable assets out of position to defend our other facilities.”
“Oh I can replace them. No one is abiding by the Non-Modification clause. In fact. . .”
“Not what I meant sir. Everyone knows everyone is producing more second-gen
Grendels, but you aren’t going to get any new Grendels who fought the squids. You can’t produce veterans of a war that is over. Honestly sir no amount of training is going to put them up to speed with the boys that fought that war, especially experience from any of six of the home system campaigns.”
“Just how many campaigns were you involved in again?” O asks crossing his arms and staring out the window in awe at the beauty and terror of the view and the memories respectively.
“Thirteen sir. All six in their home system, two on Earth, Fort Benning and the siege on the Kansas Spaceport, One on Luna and Mars each. Then there were the two stations and the last was Oceana. Twelve years total with two years spent on rotation back to Luna for home guard and to train new troops.”
“Twelve years! I knew the war lasted a long time but I didn’t know anyone fought all of it. What did your family say when you got back?”
Sanders jumps startled at the impact of the question.
“I’m sorry, you don’t have to. . .”
“No its fine sir, I just hadn’t been expecting it. Everyone always wants to know what the combat on their home world was like. Just caught me off guard.”
Sanders sighs silently inside the suit, only his shoulders giving away the breath.
“They had moved on. For the best for everyone. I had a daughter I never met until after the war ended. She was born after we moved off Terra. Was nine years old by the time my boots touched back down on Terran soil. My wife sent pictures and a few messages back and forth but it's not really the same to have a father, you never see or a husband that's never there.”
“My wife began seeing someone else after the surgeries and genetic treatments. Can’t say I honestly blame her. By then it had been two years without even sending a picture back home and messages only went out about once a month. For all she knew I had died. After the modifications and implants I might as well have been dead.”
Mr. Owens uncrosses his arms and leans against the wall hands in pockets one leg crossed heel up, “I mean I can understand not being attracted to a Grendels, but just giving up on someone who had. . .”
Sanders smiles behind his helmet, “I understand sir. It was just easier to love me from a distance. Also kept from terrifying the kids. My children were horrified, my wife said the first time she showed them a picture of a
Grendels. So she just told them I had died on their home world.”
“How’d you meet your daughter then?”
“I just pretended to be someone who knew their father telling them he loved them very much.”
Mr. O straightens up from the wall and shivers slightly, “You say this like
it is all pretty normal? Like you have no problem just walking away from your kids.”
“Not at all sir, it’s just, it’s been you know, forty-something years. We ended the war by blasting their
home world clean forty-three years ago. A year after that we finally made it home after we were sure the threat was over. From there most of us got mothballed. Put back out into the civilian population to try and find jobs. That’s when we found out we weren’t really welcome in society anymore. Something about being seven feet tall, three hundred and fifty pounds easy, smooth chitinous plates covering your chest, back and legs, massive hands with two extra digits small enough to manipulate regular equipment, I mean we leave the suits on around Sarah so we don’t scare her.”
“In going out onto the map where it said ‘Here there be monsters’ you became monsters.”
“Something like that sir,” Sanders says turning to watch him instead of spying through the rear-facing lens.
“I’m sorry, Kevin. Really if I thought
I could put you guys back to normal I would, but I am grateful for everything you’ve sacrificed for us all.”
“You’re welcome sir,” Sanders says smiling, “But honestly
it's easier being this way still. This way just warns the rest of the world that there is something a little bit wrong with us. That we don’t quite fit in. Let's them know to keep their distance and proceed with caution.” Sensing the hesitation and fear building about a rogue Grendels he quickly adds, “Not that we would attack but just that we might break down and come unglued.”
Mr. Owens shifts off the wall, lifts his hands over his head stretching his back, “Alright then I guess I should go file the feedback reports that the information queries were yours. Next time you want our top-tier information just run it past me first though before we go putting it out across the network instead of just transferring it from my computer to yours.”
“Roger that Mr. O.”
Sanders plops back down in the reinforced chair, groaning under the significant weight of the modified soldier and powered armor.
“Nobody would have been normal after that. . .”
“Where are we?”
Sanders bows his head staring at the dirt, “I don’t know. The topo maps aren’t accurate enough and we’ve lost uplink.”
“How far was the next rally point?” Davis presses.
Sanders looks up at him and laughs through the open faceplate of the helmet. The lens covering the left half of his face reflects the brilliant milky light from a moon much closer than Luna to Earth gleams silver in the light.
“Davis, how many different ways do I have to tell you that we have no data
uplink? I can’t be watching several miles ahead. It takes everything we can manage to deal with the threats within half a mile. They popped our air support and whoever else is still alive down here is outside our comm link range. Or worse they’ve found some way to jam comm link. All I know is we were headed that way. Now we can talk about what we don’t know or we can move and try and clear out a zone for the fleet to land additional resources.”
Davis turns and moves to the head of the formation.
“Fall in!”
The troops leap through the air, clearing the debris from the last firefight. Sanders looks down at his pitifully diminished battalion strength charts. More than half of the battalion has sorted to the bottom of the chart and converted to black circles.
“Haven’t even reached the target. Hell haven’t even reached the second checkpoint for reinforcements.”
Sanders glances at the mission plan.
“Two more checkpoints to resupply weapons, ammo and additional personnel. Would have just been easier to dump us all out here at the get go.”
“Then they would have just killed off five hundred people in those missile strikes, before we killed those batteries, rather than just losing the two hundred that we did.”
Davis is still testy about being insulted. Guess it's just a shock to not have the net available. That's what happens when you hit them in their own backyard. . .