Fifteen Cycles Later... 2

Sam sat in quiet meditation. His perch high in the Pacifica Mountains was so quiet, and his inner mantra so profound, that the soft crunch of boots announcing the approach of a disciple assaulted his ears.

“Dekko,” Sam smiled, eyes opening, “you’ve come back from your journey,” he looked over at the younger man, “early.”

Dekko nodded and sat next to his mentor, “The Eastern Sun Emirates are…complicated,” the last word came out slowly.

“I see…” Sam did not quite see, but was willing to wait for an explanation.

“The city of Basal is in open revolt. Its people are desperate for freedom, and Emir Nigel Shirow has offered them another way,” Dekko stared out over the desolate valley so far below, “I helped. But there’s more to do.”

“Then why did you come back early?”

“Sam, I…they need you,” Dekko turned towards Sam, eyes tired. Whatever had happened in the Eastern Sun Emirates had affected the once happy-go-lucky gunhand profoundly.

“They need me?” Sam sensed there was more to this.

“Yes, they do,” Dekko swallowed, “the people of Basal need the best gunfighter in the Badlands to help fight the Patriarch, and his backers in the Southern Republic.”

Sam’s gaze hardened. There was something else.

“And…she needs you,” Dekko produced a locket, made out of a blasting cap, hung on multicoloured necklace made of demolition wire.

Isobel.

“She told me that she needs you. To help free these people.”

Fifteen Cycles Later... 1

3 Winter, TN1935
0600hrs
Badlands Homestead county of Tribeka

It was a beautiful morning in the Eastern Desert. The sun shone brightly, but still hadn’t brought out a haze on the horizon. From the top of a rocky ridge, you could see clear off to the Serpentine Mountains a few thousand kilometres away.

At least, that’s what Bart Vonyran wished. The boy sighed, sitting back in his seat as he surveyed an endless expanse of broken, flat, stone desert. He looked over his shoulder, back at the small cluster of stubby oasis towers that marked the center of Tribeka county. Even this far away, they were the only discernable features except for the low ridge he had just climbed, as far as the eye could see.

Bart sighed again.

The bike’s engine hummed softly. He leaned forward and was about to kick his bike back into gear to return home when something off in the distance shone brilliantly in the sun. A little plume of dust appeared over where a vehicle was slowly grinding its way towards the Tribeka oasis towers.

His eyes wide, curiosity burning brightly in his heart, Bart leaned down and opened the throttle, pointing the bike down the other side of the ridge. The machine growled happily, the single tread of the bike-meets-tractor kicking up rock and sand and dust as Bart sped off.

The bike was a gift from Bart’s father for his 15th birthday, and it performed very well in the Badlands, its tread giving it extra purchase in all sorts of situations. The extra time Bart spent making sure the treads were in perfect working order was considered well-spent, since Bart was always working on fixing something anyways, just like his father. He imagined that should he ever get to ride on a city street, the tractor-bike might not have the same speed as a wheeled bike, but then again, Bart hadn’t seen inside a city’s walls since he was born. The bike, built by his father’s own hands, hadn’t seen the inside of a city’s walls either.

As he got closer to the growing cloud of dust, Bart frowned. It wasn’t just one vehicle, but a column of them. There wasn’t much of a road out here, but they were going down one of the dirt tracks that the homesteaders used to drive into Tribeka. Bart watched them approach through his small binoculars as he sat back again on his bike, on the side of the road. He blinked. There were at least a dozen gears, and a pair of big bulky armoured tin cans that he knew to be personnel carriers. They were still far away. Bart’s curiosity was replaced with dread.

He kicked the bike into a hard turn, spraying the road with gravel, and headed back home. This was the sort of thing his father would need to know about, and quickly.

Vonyran Homestead
Tribeka County
3 Winter, TN1935
06:32hrs

“Dad! Dad!” Bart had sprinted into the workshop attached to the little Vonyran home, and—“Dad! Soldiers! Gears! APC’s! On the way!” the boy was waving his arms wildly, and nearly hyperventilating.

“Ok, slow down boy, slow down!” Gade Vonyran had been waist-deep in the targeting system of a Hunter Heavy Gear, but his son’s sudden arrival had made him stand up suddenly. The workshop was a constant mess, and Gade’s head bumped into the moveable lamp that was providing much of the light for this work. The swaying lamp splashed light haphazardly all over the workshop.

“What did you see?” Gade asked again, as Bart took a deep breath.

“I was out on my track,” Bart began, hands at his sides, “just, you know, riding out to the ridge. I was gonna turn and head home when I saw this cloud off in the distance, so I went to check it out.” Bart only now considered how foolish that might have been. His face whitened.

Gade nodded soberly, though made a mental note to bring this up with the boy later, “go on.”

Relieved, Bart frowned and scrunched up his face, concentrating, “all Northern gears, a section’s worth, and I think two wheeled APCs, Badgers,” he said decisively.

“Good, ok. They’re just out of town, and it looks like we’re about to be occupied by a Northern Guard detachment,” Gade had walked over to a sensor station in the workshop and checked the passive sensors he had set up on the perimeter of his property, but with enough power to monitor much of the county.

“Umm… is it because we’re here?” Bart asked meekly, sliding up onto a stool, next to a massive, likely illegal, military-grade sensor pod.

“Oh, no,” Gade replied, smiling as he began taking stock of what was worth salvaging from the workshop, “the North and the South are probably gonna go to war. So they’re starting to really push their armies into the Badlands. We can’t get caught in the middle. So we’re gonna take a little trip.” Gade looked over at his boy. He was still scrawny, still a kid, and reminded him too much of Natty.

“Oh. Umm… where are we going?”

“Good question,” Gade had a tool rig hefted over his shoulder, “first, go pack your things. Don’t forget your Ferretzilla doll,” he called out as Bart bolted up the stairs.

“Daaaaaaaad! I’m not a little kid,” came the reproachful reply, “I don’t need a doll!”

“Bring it!” Gade called back.

“Daaaad!”

“BRING IT!”

There was a pause, then, “fine! But if we meet any hot chicks, it’s your doll, not mine.”

Gade chuckled. He looked over the workshop and smiled.

This was too good to last, and you knew it. Besides, the boy’s old enough to start working on a caravan. It’s best he get his education before he turns into a soft Polar like his father.

Not Quite In From the Cold Yet

From the Journal of Nicosa Renault:

1 Winter, TN1935

I’ve long since come to terms with humanity’s propensity towards violence. I’ve long since come to terms with humanity’s propensity towards stupidity. And yet here we are, the new cycle of 1935, eighteen cycles since we drove the New Earth Commonwealth from our planet. And Terranovans are still pioneers in violence and stupidity. Our leaders have yet to understand that a threat is looming. The North and South are locked arm in arm, spiralling towards another global war. The arms merchants of Paxton are licking their chops, waiting for even more profitable seasons. Everyone’s eyes are turned away from the future. No one who saw the Earthers face-to-face like I did could ever allow themselves the luxury to ignore the looming threat. And yet that’s exactly what’s happening.

I need a drink, and a distraction.

The cold files needed a little warming, and this seems like the best place to start. TARGETER has been going strong for a long time, but I think its time has come. There will be bigger fish to… wait, what’s this?

I’ve got ESE557 open. The Emirates had more than their fair share of collaborators. It stands to reason, since their mythology centers around Enri Masao’s sacrifice and the Human Concordat’s isolation order. Ever since we’ve been alone on Terranova, the Emirates venerate Earth like the Jerusalemites do the Garden of Eden. Still, the Emirates fought for Terranova.

But this, this is something else.

Ask an Emir about the weeks after the signing of the Peace of Westphalia. I did once, and nearly paid for it with my life. The purges were quick, secret, and swept under the rug. Emirs who collaborated simply disappeared, their retinues slaughtered, and their families silenced. No one speaks of those dark times.

This file is surprising, to say the least. It’s the royal palace of Skavara, the video feed dates it for TN1917, just as the purges got underway. I don’t even remember collecting this. So much data, so little time. It would seem that someone survived the purge. I wonder if Emir Draho knows that his father is alive, and living right under his nose.

I’m going to need my best operative for this. Sorry K, you’re going active one last time. Then I’m shutting TARGETER down.

Prologue

Autumn 1, TN1920:

Nicosa Renault watched the display for the fourth time. The head camera from the Hunter buzzed with static, but the entire fight was caught on this gear's ONNet, and this gear's ONNet alone. Desperate for any clues, she pressed play.

The team included Kain, his partner Sam, the small-time duelist Konnor, and a previously unknown girl who turned up as DaCosta Isobel. What were they doing in the Crescent Moon Canyon in Temple Heights? Why were they at the Cave of the Stone Skull, where an archaeological dig in TN1901 turned up a small chamber, with a Stonehead-style skull only slightly larger than a human skull, sitting on an altar? And why did the mercenary group known as The Collectors, previously The Iron Renegades, show up?

Nicosa figured Isobel had something to do with all this, so she had pulled up the files on Carter Salvage Freelance and found a trail of dead bodies after a little-known failed expedition into the Barrington Basin in TN1919. There were murders in Prince Gable, in Khayr-ad Din (so what?), a few urgent communiques telling everyone to lay low... Nicosa frowned. She watched the display.

The mercs clearly didn't know what hit them--at first. The Hunter showed up with its squadmates and the camera panned over a couple of trucks parked outside the Cave, sentries dead--Kain and Sam's handiwork, no doubt. Then the fireworks began as a Spitting Cobra, Blitz Iguana, Sidewinder and a Hunter--Kain, Sam, Konnor and Isobel--hit the gears hard. There were glitches in the feed, possibly due to Kain's use of electronic countermeasures. Then the Hunter was crippled. It toppled, but the ONNet camera still offered a good vantage point of the entire fight.

More gears showed up--now the Collectors outnumbered Kain and Co. by over 2 to 1. Konnor's Sidewinder did not survive the opening volley, and Isobel ditched her Hunter to get into the Cave. Sam and Kain gave a good account of themselves, but in the end their gears were badly mauled. Nicosa winced--she watched Kain limp into the Cave entrance as he leaned onto Sam.

What? Sympathetic feelings for one of your operatives? Perish the thought, Nico.

A half-dozen mercs went into the cave on foot. There were a few tense minutes, less tense now that Nicosa had already watched the video a few times. She slowed down the playback speed, and watched in slow motion as three mercs scrambled out of the cave mouth, followed by a massive explosion, the men flying like in some cheesy Southern Republic action trideo. She slowed the playback down even further, searching for clues.

Nothing. The Hunter's ONNet shut off. Static. Nicosa sighed and eased back in the buggy's seat. She nodded to the driver, and stepped out onto the fertile soil of the Canyon of the Crescent Moon, at the entrance to the Cave of the Stone Skull. Countless Stoneheads glared down at her accusingly, though she knew that most were actually gazing at the entrance to the Cave. The thought was not comforting.

Nicosa had given up field work some time ago, but Kain was one of a handful of individuals on the planet who knew she was alive. She breathed in the fresh air, and smiled tightly. She entered the Cave. The Temple Heights marshals had done a quick investigation at the behest of the council that maintains the archaeological sites, and took out a few bodies. Nicosa had already seen them at the morgue. None were Sam, Kain or Isobel. The Cave was more or less intact. The demo charges had scarred the walls, but somehow left the altar and much of the chamber untouched. She frowned. There was a Stonehead skull on the altar, glaring at her. She knew it was a fake. Temple Heights had been occupied by the CEF during the War, and the Earthers had plundered all the colonial-era artifacts they could, including the miniature Stonehead that the archaeologists had found looking at them impatiently after at least a thousand cycles of waiting. But this Stonehead looked like it had survived the blast, though a chunk of its ear was missing.

Her instincts took over and she approached it slowly. Seconds later she had hefted it up in her hands and flipped over. On the bottom was a serial number. Nicosa suppressed a chuckle, but only barely. It was the perfect cover. She typed the number into her forearm-mounted datapad and ran the encryption algorithm. This accessed a private message. She leaned back against the cold stone altar and watched Kain’s grim, bandaged face appear on her display. He only said two sentences:

“Operation Targeter still ongoing. Please advise for further orders.”

Nicosa flicked the display off. She should have known.

Vengeance is a force of nature.

Hermes 72 Archive Project

Heavy Gear is a roleplaying game that dates back to the mid-nineties, and brought with it all of the accompanying enthusiasm of the emerging Internet.

Would you like to know more?

I'm Getting Too Old For This...

Barrington Basin, 40 Spring TN1920:

The machinegun finally fell silent. It radiated heat in the desert sun, causing all the air to shimmer around the barrel and the sights. The pistol grip was warm.

"Gade! Check in! Gade!" Kain's voice called in harshly through the commo. It snapped Gade back to the here and now, the adrenaline suddenly dumping out of his bloodstream. He took a deep breath.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Gade called back hoarsely. He felt the buttstock against his arm, and realized how tightly he was gripping the pintle-mounted weapon to his torso. He slumped down a bit, "is it over?" His ears were ringing.

"Affirmative," Kain replied tersely, "go check on the others," Kain meant Ben and Isobel, and the gravely wounded Silas and Ethan.

"Right," Gade finally slumped down into the ruined cab of the Longrunner. The ambush had been well-executed. A single rocket hit the cab, immobilizing the vehicle and causing casualties. The assault teams had gotten close, and nearly stormed the truck's cargo bay. Ben had laid down as much fire out the back of the truck as he could, while Isobel lobbed grenades. There were bodies strewn behind the truck. But the only way to make Mordeds and Morganas stop an assault is to kill them outright. There was no such thing as suppressive fire when dealing with GRELs.

Kain and Sam managed to enfilade and flank, and started killing the GRELs that had hit the truck in the first place. Gade's job was to draw as much fire as he could by manning the machinegun that Kain and Doc Chambers insisted be mounted on the cab of each Longrunner in the convoy. "You never know, right?" one of them had said. He eased himself out the back of the cab and winced. The whole cabin smelled of charred flesh and burning metal. Gade patted himself down and winced again. His shoulders hurt and he had cracked a rib. The light flak bodysuit would have to be replaced. He had been shot at least four times, all flesh wounds, all minor.

They sure stung though.

"Gade, coming in," he called out before shouldering his way into the cargo bay of the Longrunner. It was a wreck. There were bullet holes everywhere, the living quarters, the galley and the trading shop were all ruined. Gade could feel the whole truck listing to one side. The wheels had been shot out enough that his beloved Longrunner wasn't going anywhere.

The smoke was irritating his eyes. He knelt down beside Ethan and Silas who were slumped on the floor of the galley. Silas was in a bad way, but Ethan needed a hospital, and soon.

"How bad are they?" Ben crawled over. His face was blackened and he had a nasty bullet graze along the length of his arm.

"Dunno, but I'm no doctor," was the reply, "does the girl know anything about patching up?"

"Don't think so," Ben slumped down against the wall and took out a first aid kit. He sprayed his arm down slowly, wincing as the disinfectant did its work.

"Gade!" Kain climbed into the galley, still running on pure adrenaline, "the commo system's out. We need to get to our gears and hook up the Hermes 72 to Lex." Kain was already onto the next obstacle, "take Sam with you. Get word to WestBase for a medivac hopper. Get word to everyone. I'm not losing anyone today."

"Right boss. On it," Gade winced as he got up.

Kain handed him back his pump-action grenade launcher, "take it."

"Nah. You keep it for now. I need both hands to drive and do the mods. And Sam can't shoot it worth shit."

"Fine, fine," Kain would have smiled in a less serious time. A motorcycle engine started up outside, "best catch up to Sam," he paused, swallowing hard, "stay safe."

----------------------

Outside WestBase, Barrington Basin, 1 Summer, TN1920:

"Are you sure about this?" Natty smiled up sadly to her husband, "I can take care of myself, and if I can't manage, everyone here can help out."

Gade nodded, "I know. Think of it as a working vacation. I've got the tournament, and I've got a few projects to keep me busy," he patted his wife's belly.

"That project is already well-underway. You're just a not-so-innocent bystander at this point," Natty chided him, "but alright. I won't mind having you around, I know that. And when the little one comes, you won't miss it." Natty frowned, "Kain doesn't need you?"

"Nah, not really. He figures it's time to let me make money for the caravan as a duelist, and he's going on some little research trip. Besides, he's got Sam to protect him."

"Yeah, but who's gonna protect Sam?"

"Kain?" Gade grinned, and kissed his wife before she could protest.

27 August 2009 Bushwhacked!

Waiting for the evac, he put his time to good use. It turned out that Isobel really did know her way around field engineering; rather than her helping him, he helped her position the directional mines and throw up a quick berm around the feet of the Longrunner. What was left of the Longrunner. The old girl had made her last trip.

He cursed himself for never taking the time to have the armour refit done. It wasn't as if this sort of scenario hadn't been considered a possibility. And it looked as if that crazy girl was right; the GRELs really _were_ out to get her. And they weren't inclined to take no for answer. Stupid. He should have believed her.

Right now, all they could do was turtle up and hope that Sam and Gade made contact with someone who could help them. Ethan was in bad shape; maybe that had been a mistake too, prompting him to leave Baja for the considerably less secure life in the badlands. Ben was hit, and the Imashen...what's his name...Silas, that was it, was bleeding, and not in the good way.

It had been simpler when there weren't all these people around. They just got in the way. It had been simpler, before, when no one...depended on him.

'Cause then he could never let anyone down.

Westbase, 30 Spring TN1920: The dueling showdown?

Kain Delacroix was strapped into the seat of Lex Talionis, the Spitting Cobra heavy gear. The large v-engine on the gear's back growled smoothly: Carmichael and Gade had been doing their best to keep the beast running well. Everything was checking out as he rolled the gear into the dueling arena.

Behind Kain, Gade was driving Gun, his Tiger gear, and Sam was in Slick, the Blitz Iguana. Lex swept the arena with its active sensors and gave its pilot a decent map rendering. Gun and Slick were doing the same thing, and Kain watched their actives register on his EM sensors.

The three pilots were quiet. They had already discussed their plan, and there was little else to talk about. The arena was a jumbled maze of pre-fab ferrocrete berms and walls, all arranged in a 30 meter deep shuttle drydock. It must have cost a pretty penny to get a set up like this going, which struck Kain as strange, considering that the Indy Dueling League was supposed to operate on a shoestring budget. Either way, Kain let the gear idle, and watched his sensors. The opposition was entering the arena.

The IDL pilots led with their biggest gear as well: a Kodiak. How these guys managed to acquire a Kodiak heavy assault gear was anybody's guess, but the thing was so enormous it towered over some of the maze walls, let alone the other gears in the arena. Next was a Black Mamba, the latest off of the Territorial Arms assembly line. Lastly, a sleek-looking Cheetah ambled in. Kain smiled and looked up. No roof, just stars.

The signal flare went up, and the duel started. Slick dashed forward and leaped up, grabbing at the edge of one of the concrete walls. The little Iguana managed to hoist itself up with all the finesse of a gymnast. Sam had gotten to be quite the pilot, Kain smiled with some satisfaction. Slick crouched low and raced across the top of the wall.

The Kodiak and the Black Mamba began drawing a bead on the smaller gear as they advanced. Shells exploded all around, but Sam's firm hand on the controls kept Slick from toppling off the wall, or from getting hit. The neural net squealed a loud warning as a near miss rocked the gear. It didn't phase Sam, who pointed the gear's arm-mounted laser designator at the Kodiak. Enough of the Kodiak towered over the wall that Sam's laser lit it up.

The targeting system on Lex Talionis blinked and updated: "LASER GUIDANCE BEAM DETECTED. TARGET ACQUIRED."

Kain flicked the trigger guard up and squeezed. Nothing happened.

"FIRE!" he shouted at his gear.

"HAMMERSTRIKE I MISSILE SOFTWARE NOT FOUND." Lex reported back.

"FIRE!" Kain squeezed the trigger again. This was not good. Slick was nearly at the end of the top of the wall. The laser would not be able to paint the Kodiak for much longer.

"HAMMERSTRIKE I MISSILE SOFTWARE NOT FOUND."

"HAMMERSTRIKE I MISSILE SOFTWARE NOT FOUND."

"HAMMERSTRIKE I MISSILE SOFTWARE NOT FOUND."

"HAMMERSTRIKE I MISSILE SOFTWARE.... DETECTED."

The light guided missile streaked over Lex Talionis' shoulder in a high arch, and then dove straight for the Kodiak. The big machine tried to dive, but didn't move quickly enough. It was torn to shrapnel in a direct hit.

As soon as it had begun, it was over. Gade had blasted the Black Mamba with a snap shot from his bazooka pistol as the two gears made visual contact. The gear collapsed in a heap against one of the walls, a massive hole in its side. The Cheetah stopped and powered down, surrendering. Sam jumped Slick off the wall and skidded to a stop near the deactivated gear.

Kain smiled inside his Spitting Cobra. That couldn't have gone any better.