Pain Bringer (The Constant War Book 2), page 40
“I’m sorry,” said Rousseau. “I didn’t quite catch your plan for saving the whole of humanity from the planet-sized corpse about to plow into Earth over the roar of my engines.”
“Yes, well, that wouldn’t have been an issue if you hadn’t—”
“Einhorn. I’m not going to ask twice. I’m going to be on the surface in three minutes. I need a plan of action.”
“Right.” Einhorn ran over to the viewscreen, depicting Sindarhe and Earth’s orbit. He reached out, splaying his fingers, and the images on the viewscreen snapped to his fingertips, spreading in accordance with his movements. He rotated Sindarhe, highlighted an engine on its surface, and oriented it perpendicular to Sindarhe’s travel vector. “You wouldn’t have to disable all the engines. If my calculations are correct, which why wouldn’t they be, altering one should be sufficient.”
“One? And that will work?”
Einhorn shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
“You. Don’t. See. Why. Not,” Rousseau repeated.
Einhorn surmised that Rousseau was most definitely frustrated. He could tell.
“If you reorient just one of the engines to push laterally, then maybe it’ll be enough for Sindarhe to miss Earth entirely.”
“Miss entirely?”
“Yes, but it has to be a specific engine.” Einhorn rotated the wireframe depiction of Sindarhe and enlarged one of the engine mockups. “The real issue is you’re probably not going to be able to slow Sindarhe in time.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Exactly my point,” said Rousseau. “So where do I go? Which engine?”
“Hang on.” Einhorn made a fist, and the wireframe of Sindarhe leapt off the screen, a holographic representation glowing in his hand. He cupped it with both hands, turning it over, rotating to new positions, pressing various engine positions as if he was performing acupuncture on the hologram. Stats and figures jumped off the holograph. He set it on its side and rotated to a new position, bringing up new stats and figures.
“Einhorn?”
“Working on it.”
He spun the wireframe mockup, comparing and contrasting potential Sindarhe trajectories against all possible variations and configurations of engine setups.
“I’m not a math whiz by any means,” said Rousseau, “but I’m pretty sure this is time sensitive and I’m almost to the surface.”
“It is. And you are.”
Before Rousseau could blow a gasket, Einhorn said, “Okay, head for Engine-1. You need to reorient it so that it pushes perpendicular to the motion of Sindarhe and make sure it is set to full power.”
“And that’ll work?”
“It might.”
“Might?”
Chapter Forty-One
Wilkins threw back the flap on the airlock. He ducked under the lip, trying not to crush Fairhaven in his arms—who was also trying not to crush the swaddled newborn in her arms.
Squiddies crawled across the ground, a living surge carpeting the terrain. The main action took place some fifty meters to the east of the tent where Fairhaven had just given birth. The majority of the squiddie swarm engaged six Marines and their Tigerclaws. The Marines held semicircular formation, fighting against the rising tide of squiddies piling over the mesa’s edge.
Wilkins lowered a shoulder, sprinting directly toward the downed mecha in the middle of the chaos. Halfway to there, squiddies took notice of their frantic approach, and began peeling off from the Marines to intercept the trio.
The comm crackled in Wilkins’ ear. “Looks like you two have a plus one.”
“Very observant,” said Wilkins.
“Congratulations, sirs.”
“I appreciate the accolades”—he felt Fairhaven staring daggers at him, looked down, and sure enough, she was—“We—we appreciate the accolades, but do you think you could provide a little cover fire? Gonna see if we can’t get our Tigerclaws on their feet again.”
“Roger that, sir. Sirs.”
Instantly, a nearby Tigerclaw blasted off the ground, singeing half a dozen squiddies with its boot thrusters, leaving behind flaming aliens reaching for the sky, seconds away from being corpses. The Marine landed hard in their path, so close that Wilkin had to dodge to the right.
He grunted, shot the Marine a side-eye, but couldn’t be overly upset when the Tigerclaw sprayed plasma particles into a rush of squiddies that had been blocking their way. Its main engines burst orange from its back. The mecha rocketed forward, creating a clearing.
Wilkins juked a stray squiddie, ducked to his left, and followed in the Tigerclaw’s wake.
Fairhaven’s mecha was half buried in the terrain. Its shoulder had dug a trench when the squiddies tackled her in midair, forcing an impromptu landing. Wilkins hurdled a dirt ledge, planted his feet, and let his momentum carry him as he slid down the incline.
At the bottom, he placed Fairhaven against the base of the Tigerclaw. He pried back a large plate of metal lying across the canopy.
“I’ll clear out some of this debris and we’ll have you back on the battlefield in no time.”
He yanked the hatch release on the side of the canopy, leaned into the cockpit, and powered up the displays. Electricity whined, as the HUD display burst to life. Targeting reticles skittered across the open canopy glass.
Wilkins extended his hand to Fairhaven. “It’s all set.”
She held his gaze.
“Don’t worry.” He waved her over. “I’ll help you in.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Fairhaven didn’t respond.
A mound of dirt sprayed over the top of the Tigerclaw, cresting like wave. Wilkins ducked under the curling earth and clambered to her side. His hand slid into the nook of her armpit, applying pressure in a silent offer to carry her. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going.”
“You’re not what?!”
“I can’t. Not now.” She turned her gaze to the child in her arms. Gently, she cradled it, paying no attention to her surroundings, as if explosions weren’t tearing earth asunder around them. “I’m taking him back to Heaven. Where it’s safe.”
“Safe? Now?” Wilkins gesticulated at the sky, Sindarhe so close they could practically throw a stone at it. “Nowhere is safe.” He waved at the squiddies skittering across the ground, driven back by Tigerclaws and angry red particle spray. “We need you.”
She stroked the peach-fuzz atop the newborn’s head. “And so does he.”
“I…” Wilkins couldn’t find the words. Finally, she was in harmony with his concerns. Only now didn’t seem like the best time for a change of heart. “But I thought…”
“Me too.” Fairhaven looked up, making direct eye contact. Her eyes glittered like emeralds. “But it’s different now.”
Wilkins nodded. He understood. It was different. He embraced Fairhaven, his arms wrapping her tight. His arm skimmed down her shoulder, and he nuzzled the child’s chin with his finger. “Then I’m staying too.”
The embrace was warm. She placed her hand on top of his, guiding him as they gently caressed the newly formed life they had brought into the world together.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Fairhaven.
“What?!”
“Don’t get me wrong. I think you offering to stay is the sweetest thing ever. But they need you. Hell, they need me too, but I have other responsibilities now. Responsibilities even bigger than an interplanetary collision. This little guy needs me. But you, soldier boy, you got no excuses. Get your butt out there. And besides that, fuck you, I just gave birth. I’m fucking exhausted.”
Wilkins scoffed. “Please, like you’d let that stop you.”
Fairhaven cracked a smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. But this guy…I’d do anything for him.”
Wilkins nodded. There was nothing left to say. He swept her off her feet. “Let’s get you loaded, then.”
He ducked the open canopy, shouldered through debris, and deposited her in the pilot’s seat.
“Hey! Careful,” said Fairhaven, holding her arms out, absorbing the impact and shielding the baby from harm.
“Sorry.” Wilkins reached for her harness. He got it halfway around her, when he noticed a new problem. “I, uh…” He motioned to put the harness around her, but every time he stretched it to length, he couldn’t secure the straps around both Fairhaven and the baby. “What do you want to do about this?”
“I don’t know.” Fairhaven adjusted in her seat. “Maybe I could put him on the bulkhead or something.”
Wilkins’ jaw fell agape. He wouldn’t do that, their child being a newborn and all, but what did he know? She was the mother after all.
Fairhaven leaned forward. As soon as the baby’s cheek left her skin, its features scrunched into a ball of agony, and it began to wail. Ear-piercing shrieks drew the attention of nearby squiddies long enough to distract them as a Tigerclaw turned them to dust.
Fairhaven brought the baby to her bosom, holding it against her heart. Immediately, the child calmed. Fairhaven looked up at Wilkins. “Don’t worry. I got this.”
She tried again. By the time she extended her arms to the bulkhead, a cry so unique and penetrating, so impossible to ignore, was boring a hole directly into her brain. She recoiled, and the baby snapped back to her bosom like a yo-yo, once again falling into silence against its mother’s chest.
Wilkins shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”
The vein in Fairhaven’s temple bulged, pulsing in rapid rhythm with her heart. She reached out, and every time she did, her child instantly burst into wailing tears, cries shattering her eardrums, a noise somehow tuned to the frequency of her thoughts. Between her child’s screams, she yelled at Wilkins, “What do you want me to do about it, huh?!”
Wilkins pointed at her chest. “You’re just going to have to hold it.”
“Oh really?! Then how do I fly?”
“I don’t know. But it’s not like you have much choice.”
“I am not—”
“Hold this,” said Wilkins, putting the left side of the harness in her hand.
“—about to be stranded—”
Wilkins took the baby from her. “Gimmie.” He placed the right side of the harness in her hand. “Hold this.”
Absent-mindedly, she grabbed it. “—on some death-trap planet with a helpless infant. Does that make sense?”
“Take this back.” Wilkins offered the baby to her.
She took it. “Have you been listening to me?”
“Of course. Going to Heaven. Death-trap planet. Stranded. Helpless baby. Makes perfect sense.”
There was a loud click.
Fairhaven looked at the harness. “What’re you doing?”
“You’re all good now.” He tugged on the upper straps. Then tested the lowers. They held Fairhaven in place. Their child was positioned in front of her, pressed against her chest. The makeshift baby bjorn was looped through several straps in the harness. “Both of you are secure.”
“I—”
“You’re all set.” He patted her shoulder. “Check the clearance.”
It took her a moment to register his words. “Clearance?”
“The steering yoke and throttle. Are you clear?”
She pitched the yoke forward and twisted the steering column. There was plenty of room. She pushed the throttle all the way forward. The control was on a console off her right hip, unaffected by the child strapped to her chest. The only problem occurred when she pulled all the way back on the steering yoke, it pressed into her and the child. She played with the controls, but there wasn’t much she could do. She would just have to avoid going into a steep climb.
“So?” Wilkins asked.
“It’s, uh…” He knew her too well. She wanted to say ‘fine,’ but she would never give him the satisfaction. Instead, she made eye contact and said, “Thanks.”
“Not a prob.” Wilkins made it three steps before he stopped in his tracks, hesitating.
“What is it now?”
“I can’t leave.”
Fairhaven snorted. “Of course you can. All you gotta do is put one foot in front of the other.” She no longer sounded like herself. Her voice took on her harsh drill instructor tone. “Wha’cha looking at? Get your ass in gear, soldier boy.”
“Seriously, I don’t know if I can leave you and our child. Not until I know you’re safe.”
“C’mere.” Fairhaven sternly waggled a pointer finger in a come hither motion.
Wilkins eyed her apprehensively.
“You afraid I’ll bite, big guy? You have me strapped in here so tight, you know I can’t move.” She slapped the side of the canopy. “Get your butt over here.”
He nodded, trudging toward her. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, she grabbed his lapel, and yanked him forward. He nearly toppled her, falling forward. Their lips met. And the world, punctuated by hissing screeches of particle blasts and squiddie explosions, melted around him. He slipped into her warmth where nothing else mattered.
She leaned back, letting him catch his breath. “I love you, you big stupid mutt. But the baby and I don’t need a protector right now. Heaven and Earth do. Go help Char stop that thing from deleting humanity out of existence.”
“What about you?”
“I got my Tigerclaw.” She thunked the bulkhead. A metallic thrum echoed. “I’ll be fine.”
There was a blart of static. A voice echoed over the comm. “Not that I was eavesdropping,” said a Marine. The voice was familiar. Hardesty, maybe? “But if it puts you at ease, Lieutenant, I can make sure she gets clear.”
“See. I’ll be fine,” said Fairhaven. “Hardesty’s got my back. You go get Char’s.”
Wilkins opened his mouth to object, but Fairhaven didn’t give him the chance.
“She’s gonna need it. We’ve both seen what kind of trouble she gets herself into.”
“You can say that again.” Wilkins waved, a big sweeping motion, signaling to the Tigerclaw directly overhead. “Give me some cover fire down here, Marine.”
He didn’t wait for the squelch of the comm or an affirmative. He was already sprinting across the clearing toward his downed Tigerclaw.
Hardesty touched down on his heels, cutting off an incoming wave of squiddies. Engines spat dirt in their direction. A red particle blast vaporized four squiddies. A fifth squiddie managed to slip past along a ridge of overturned earth. Hardesty rocketed forward, sliding a metal leg beneath it and using its momentum to hip toss it fifty meters in the opposite direction.
“All clear,” he said.
Fairhaven crackled over the comm. “I see you’ve learned some things.”
“I had a great teacher.”
“Aren’t you the smooth talker?”
Wilkins skidded to a stop in front of his Tigerclaw. He punched in the code, popping the canopy, climbed up the right leg, and secured himself in the pilot’s seat.
“You!” Wilkins pointed at Hardesty. His Tigerclaw raised a stubby turret arm in Hardesty’s direction. “You get her outta here.”
“Roger that, Lieutenant.”
Wilkins smashed his rebreather to his face and spoke into the comm. “When Fairhaven is clear, everyone hone in on my location. We’re going to need all the firepower we can get.”
A half dozen voices chimed in to the affirmative.
Electronics hummed, starting at a low pitch, rising to a nearly inaudible whine. He flipped a series of switches overhead and the instruments blinked on. A quick thumbing of the ignition, and the engines coughed to life. He slapped the canopy trigger. As it lowered, he shouted across the clearing to Fairhaven. “Just so you know, I’m not leaving you.”
“I know,” said Fairhaven. “Now go kick some tentacle.”
He caught the flash of a smirk. The canopy locked into place and she was cut off from view.
Readouts lit up. A sea of red dots littered the sonar. Through the canopy crossbars, the ground crawled with olive-green and black. Wilkins toggled weapons. Stubby turret arms swiveled into place, splashing energy blasts into a pack of squiddies.
Off his starboard side, Hardesty stepped forward. Four Tigerclaws landed next to him, maintaining loose formation. Slowly, they spread, widening the perimeter around Wilkins’ Tigerclaw.
The wireframe HUD displayed his mecha in green. Two animated bars over the engines topped out as a loud ding chimed.
“Later boys.”
Wilkins was thrown back against his straps. His head snapped back against the headrest. He pushed the throttle all the way forward and stomped the afterburners. The mecha pointed its toes, flames burst from its feet, and Wilkins felt himself sinking into the seat. Darkness vignetted the edges of his vision.
As the acceleration settled to a constant, he glanced over his shoulder. Through spitting fuel and rippling heat distortion, he watched six Marines maintaining a perimeter around Fairhaven’s downed Tigerclaw.
He heard their chatter over the comm, the organized tactics, and coordinated movements, as they pushed her Tigerclaw back onto its feet.
He watched her power up the engines. Through the glare on her canopy, he could make out her movements as she situated herself and the baby. He watched her Tigerclaw rev to full power.
As he gained altitude, he watched until the mesa encampment was nothing more than scattered specks highlighted by occasional bursts of red.
Chapter Forty-Two
As the dust cleared, she saw it.
Large scrotal sacks hung off its thighs like saddlebags. Miniature versions of the alien cabbage-eggs jiggled inside translucent flesh, yet to be seeded into the surrounding structure.
The creature was enormous beyond belief, filling the nursery from side to side with its cumbersome girth. It shrugged off debris that rained on its back, as brick and mortar tumbled to the ground.
