Machine World (Undying Mercenaries Book 4) (7 page)

“That was great,” I said afterward. “You aren’t still trying to get pregnant are you?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that now, it would be inappropriate.”

I sighed in relief. Last time we’d been together, Della had been interested in procreating with me. Apparently, that was all over with.

Putting my arms behind my head, I stretched out on the grass and stared up at the simulated starry sky.

“Aren’t you interested?” she asked.

“Interested in what?”

“Don’t you at least want to know the name I chose?”

I frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about, girl?”

“Our child, of course.”

Words failed me. “You mean…?”

“Of course. We succeeded the last time. Her name is Etta.”

I stared at her. Both of my eyes must’ve been as big around as a Georgia peach. She laughed at me, laughed right in my face.

I jumped up like I’d been stung. “What are you doing out here in space?” I demanded. “Where’s our kid? You didn’t bring her aboard, did you?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. She’s far too young. She’ll make an excellent Scout someday, but she’s not ready yet.”

“No… I didn’t mean that. Who’s taking care of her? That’s what I want to know.”

“Her grandfather, among others. You remember the Principal Investigator?”

I made a sour face. “How could I forget?”

“Don’t worry,” Della said, “Etta will be fine. With your genes and mine, she’s as immutable as a stone in the desert. Everything will make way for her. Nothing will break her.”

“But…listen, where I come from, parents care for their own children directly. If I’d had a kid back on Earth, I wouldn’t have joined the legions and come flying out here to the stars. I would have stayed home and raised it.”

She cocked her head to one side and looked at me quizzically. “Are you upset?”

“A little, yeah,” I admitted.

“You didn’t enjoy the sex?”

I snorted. “Of course I did.”

She shook her head and combed leaves out of her hair with her fingers. “You people from Earth, you’re so sensitive. You worry about everything. How can life be worth living if you worry all the time?”

If there’s one thing I’d never been called before, it was a worrier. But this was different. Della had gone and gotten herself pregnant—with my help of course—and now I’d been placed in the unaccustomed roll of responsibility. It was a shock.

Heaving a sigh, I sat down beside Della, and I looked her straight in the eye.

“We should get married,” I said.

She frowned. She plucked at the grass around her knees and twisted the blades around her fingers. “I would’ve liked that,” she said, “a year or so back…but I can’t now.”

“Why not?”

She smiled at me. Her expression was almost shy.

“Because, James…I’m already married.”

-9-

Della’s twin revelations came as quite a shock to me. Not only was I father, the parent of a kid I’d never seen and possibly never
would
see, but she’d gone and gotten married in the meantime.

Even stranger was her apparent attitude toward fidelity. I mean, she was a married woman and yet she’d slept with me without even telling me about it. I just couldn’t get over that. Culturally, we were about as far apart as two people could get.

Needless to say, I was confused. I went back to my bunk that night and thought about it, unable to sleep for nearly
ten
minutes. That’s not normal for me.

When I finally did fall asleep I dreamt weird things. I dreamt about squids, and deserts, and beautiful nutty women.

Around about three in the morning, my sleep was interrupted. Straps looped over my chest, legs, and throat. My eyes snapped open, and I moved to get out of bed, but I was pinned down to it. The room was dark and my roommates were gone. Figures stood all around me.

As an experienced fighting man from Legion Varus, I pride myself on being prepared for violent action at all times. This was just one more of those times.

My right hand slid out of the grasp of the man who was trying to pin it down. I managed this trick with the aid of the combat knife my parents had given me some time back. Knives in my time were sharper than they had been in the past. Using advanced metallurgical techniques and molecular alignments, a knife could be made to cut through flesh and bone as easily as paper. One could even puncture steel plate if driven with sufficient force.

But of course before that could happen, the owner of the knife had to be a man paranoid enough to sleep with such a weapon in his grasp. I happened to be just such a man. Fingers, straps, blankets—they all parted before the glittering white line of my knife’s edge.

One of my assailants started howling, he also released his grip on my forearm. My blade flashed up to the man holding a strap around my neck. This guy was quicker however, and he managed to get his two hands around my wrist before I could drive the point of my blade into his face.

“Dammit McGill!” Harris hissed. “Stop struggling. This is the beginning of your trial!”

“Sorry Vet,” I said.

Someone snapped on the lights. I looked around at the men that surrounded me. They were the same veterans who had accosted me back on Earth.

My knife made a sweeping motion, and they hastily withdrew their hands. I slashed my bonds and sat up on my bunk.

“You boys really should let a man know when you’re going to pull something like this,” I said. “Somebody might get hurt.”

Harris put his big face into mine. “You’re coming with us, candidate.”

“Sure thing, Vet. Lead the way.”

They retreated from my bunk while I got to my feet, stretched, and pulled on my clothes.

As none of them were wearing armor, I didn’t bother to put on mine, either. They led me to Green Deck, and we followed the stream that wound through the middle of the forested section. The stream terminated and spilled into a tiny artificial canyon, forming a waterfall. We walked down a path to the bottom of the canyon.

Overhead, I could see stars sliding gently by through the simulated glass dome. I could tell that the stars had shifted since the last time I’d looked at them with Della some hours ago. The pinpoints of white light moved with almost imperceptible slowness, like the hands of a clock.

We reached the end of the path and stood at the sandy bottom of the canyon. I spotted a group of several other candidates. Their heads were in sacks, and they lay on their bellies with their wrists tied to their ankles. Each of them was trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

“Oh, I get it,” I said. “I was supposed to be tied up, wasn’t I?”

One of the veterans stepped up to me angrily. I recognized him in the starlight. He was none other than Veteran Johnson of 1
st
Platoon.

“You’re mocking us aren’t you?” he demanded.

“Why no, Vet,” I said. “Whatever gave you that idea?” I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I gave him a little grin.

“Settle down, Johnson,” said Harris. “You’ll get your chance.”

Johnson never even looked at Harris. He kept eyeing me instead. “You know what would make me happy, McGill?”

I glanced down at his hands. Sure enough, one of his two gloves looked half-empty. I realized then that he’d drawn the short straw a second time while dealing with me.

“Let me guess,” I said, “a couple of extra fingers?”

He threw a punch at me, which I ducked. He caught a little bit of my left ear, but it was no big deal.

Harris was between us instantly. He pushed us apart and shoved his face into each of ours.

“We’re doing this one by the book,” he said. “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Vet,” I said. My eyes never left Johnson’s. We stared each other down for about two more seconds before backing off.

“McGill?” Harris asked in a sarcastic tone. “Would you mind going over there and standing with the rest of the candidates?”

I did as he asked. Moments later, the veterans slashed their captives free. I looked from one face to the next in the starlight. Two of them I recognized. One was none other than Weaponeer Sargon. The other was a short stocky woman built like a fireplug. She was from 1
st
Platoon, but I couldn’t remember her name.

“Here’s the deal,” Harris said. “All of you have been advanced to candidacy, but only one of you will be given the promotion. As the existing veterans of third unit, it’s our job to watch and judge this contest. Your boundaries are the walls of this canyon. Do not exit the boundaries. To do so will result in immediate disqualification.”

As he spoke, I began to frown. It was dawning on me that this was some kind of arena-combat scenario. The other candidates were already eyeing each other and separating. I took this time to examine my surroundings more closely.

We stood on a beach that was only about ten meters wide. The canyon was circular and about hundred meters across. The walls were quite forbidding. They were sheer and vertical. The only easy path out of the canyon was the foot trail we’d come down on, which wound its way up along the walls and under a waterfall at the far end.

I’d gone swimming down here a number of times in the small, cool, deep lake that formed the center of the canyon.

“Oh,” Harris said, “one more thing. McGill? Would you be so kind as to give me your weapon?”

“You mean my knife?”

“Exactly.”

I drew it out, flipped the blade so that I held the tip and flicked it at him. He flinched, but didn’t jump out of the way. The blade stuck in the sand between his boots.

Smiling grimly, Harris picked up my knife. “The last man—or woman—who’s left alive in this canyon tonight is a veteran. That’s it, no more rules.
Go!
”

The fireplug-woman moved first. She caught Sargon by one foot and pulled backwards. He went down on his face, growling. A thin, rat-faced man joined her. Together, they dragged Sargon out into the water.

I thought about intervening, but I didn’t have time to see how that struggle ended. Something hit me, blindsiding me, knocking me back into the water.

A dark figure loomed over me outlined by the stars. He had a big rock in both hands, and a snarl on his face. I fought to get my hands in between that rock and my skull. He still managed to deliver a glancing blow, and I could feel the blood leaking out of my scalp.

The veterans were cheering. They called out encouragement, catcalls, and slammed their hands together in applause when someone landed a hard blow.

The guy with the rock kept coming after me. Feeling a little dazed, I decided to disengage. I swam away with long strokes toward the center of the lake.

The guy with the rock didn’t follow. Instead, he ran off toward the foliage along the shoreline.

The fireplug-woman with her rat-faced companion managed to drown Sargon. There was nothing I could do, and it made me angry.

They’d teamed up, plain as day. That seemed unfair. I could only wonder if they’d known ahead of time how this trial was going to go. I hadn’t seen them talk or negotiate anything in the canyon. I could only surmise that they’d been in cahoots from the start.

“Well played, well played,” Harris said, talking to the fireplug and her sidekick. “I feel compelled to reward success.”

So saying, he produced my combat knife and tossed it at the feet of the woman.

Both she and her partner lunged for the knife. I treaded water, watching.

“What’s this?” Harris chuckled. “Treachery? So soon?”

The stout woman had landed on the knife first with rat-face on her back a fraction of a second later. Four hands clamped onto the hilt of one knife. They rolled, grunting, but in the end, the rat found his throat slashed and the woman stood over him panting.

More applause, appreciative shouts.

“Come on McGill!” Johnson shouted at me. “Quit hiding out there in the lake!”

I turned and swam for the waterfall.

“Well now,” Harris said, “that’s just plain cowardice, McGill.”

Harris drew his sidearm, an old gunpowder weapon, and shook all the cartridges out of the gun except for one. He threw the weapon at the guy who’d hit me with the rock. “Here, catch!”

Any of my teachers from Atlanta’s primary education system could have told you years back that I’d never been the most attentive student. But even I, when faced with overwhelming evidence, can figure out where the cards lay.

These veterans had no intention of letting me win this contest. In fact, it looked to me like they were going to cheat if they had to. No matter what, I was destined to lose. They’d probably set up the fireplug and her rat-buddy to nail Sargon right off, so I wouldn’t have anyone to team with.

Seeing that there was a gun in play, the fireplug lady ran off around the lake to the far side. Grinning, the dark complected squatty-looking man with Harris’ gun circled the other way. I could tell he wasn’t interested in taking his single shot at long range. He wanted to get in close and make sure of a kill. Both of them headed toward the waterfall on opposites sides of the lake.

I came up under the waterfall breathing hard. I could see two figures approaching through the mist, one from either direction. This gave me an idea. If they could cheat, why couldn’t I?

I dove, swimming deep into the cold water. I took long sweeping strokes. I was well below the surface. Each pumping motion of my arms and legs took me back toward the shoreline where this had all started.

When I surfaced, gasping, it was just in time to hear a shot crack the air. The veterans whooped. They were standing knee-deep in the lake around me.

I stood up in the water. Johnson was the man nearest to me. His luck was consistent.

“What the hell—?” he shouted. “McGill? All you do is run from every fight. You have to be the biggest chicken—”

That was as far as he got. I stepped up to him, pulled his sidearm out of his holster and aimed over his shoulder. I shot Veteran Gonzales, who had just turned in our direction to see what the fuss was about. My surprised target went down on his face with a loud splash. The back of his skull was gone.

Johnson began struggling with me, but as he was missing a finger or two he couldn’t stop my hand from bringing his gun around and placing the muzzle against his chest.

Boom!

I don’t think Johnson could believe his bad luck right to the end. He stared up at me as he was dying, even after the lake water covered his face.

Harris slammed into me a moment later. The pistol flew out of my grasp. We traded blows for two long seconds. I knew the game might be up. I was getting tired, and my head injury from the guy with the rock was throbbing. Hell, I’d have been lucky to beat Harris one-on-one when I was fresh.

Harris snatched the fallen gun out of the water. He aimed it at me, his sides heaving with exertion.

“God
dammit!
” Harris roared. “How is it, McGill, that the every time—?”

Harris made a choking sound. I saw the squatty little guy who’d smashed me with  rock minutes ago. He’d snuck up behind Harris and rammed my knife home. He must’ve taken it from the woman candidate after having shot her.

Not to be taken out so easily, Harris turned, ripped the knife out of his own back, and ran down his attacker with it. I followed at a safe distance to watch what transpired with morbid curiosity.

Harris cut the man to ribbons with my knife. All the while, he bled profusely and released a steady stream of profanity.

Harris turned to face me at last. His sides were heaving, and his body was slick with sweat and blood.

“Whatever possessed you to attack your superiors yet again, McGill?” he asked me in a hoarse voice. “You have to know you’re disqualified now.”

“Well Vet,” I said, “I guess I just didn’t understand this contest from the beginning.”

Harris began laughing. It was a hitching, gasping, gargling sound. He shook his head and sighed. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that boy?”