Published: 27 Apr 2017

Luna maneuvered over to Robin, who was keeping a nervous eye on the back of the administration and a security building for the mining camp. It had been way too long without any sign of movement. He figured Neil and Valerie would have done something long before now and the lack of anything from within was really starting to scare him. He glanced over, “I guess the mine is totally secure?”

Luna nodded, “Yeah, but something seemed off about it. We only ended up fighting a couple of Riot frames and a moron in a mining rig. They came out shooting like they were insane. Dante and those he was in charge of sent them running right back into the mine in seconds. At the same time the non-combatants made a break for it so I moved my team up and stunned them. None of them fell to anything other than stunners.”

“So the NCs made it out alive. Sounds good to me. What’s the problem?”

“The whole thing… Dante moved in with the group you gave him and they went right after him. They were way outnumbered, so they should have done what happened here and used the NCs as shields, but they didn’t. They came out to the mouth of the mine and gave Dante and those with him massive superiority in numbers and firepower.”

“You think they were hiding something in the mine?”

Luna shrugged, “If they did, it’s buried. I think some of those with Dante got a little too trigger happy. The shooting caused a collapse about ten meters in. It happened as the idiots tried to run back inside for cover, so they are buried under tons of rock. Brave Humanities sent in some of their people to clear and stabilize the cave-in. Once they do, Dante wants to go in and check it out and see if there is anything worth salvaging off the buried frames.”

“Tell him to let the Brave Humanities guys pull it all out. If there are no more Q VI idiots left and we got out all the NCs, then there’s no point of going in only to have some booby trap drop the place on him or those he is with. How many didn’t get out?”

“Hard to be certain,” Luna grumbled. “Lots of the NCs who came scrambling out freaked and got in the way, so most got stunned. Some probably got hit several times since I ordered everyone with me to fire as fast as our stunners would cycle. I am pretty sure many with Dante did the same thing, since there was no way all those with him had a clear line of fire at the three morons. Those who got out conscious were not in the greatest shape either. BH brought in a shuttle for them with a medic team. From what the medics told us, the mine didn’t have a working air system. It had been pulled by the Q VI guys for some reason. I have no idea how mining works, but I was told those who went in were supposed to have oxygen booster masks or something because there was no air system. Anyway, most needed medical. A few who could talk told the BH medics everyone who was taken down to the mine was accounted for.”

“OK…” Robin glanced over at Luna, “So, again, what’s the problem?”

Luna shrugged, “It was too clean and too easy. Over thirty NCs came running out and none of them got shot by the Q VI bastards and none of Dante’s people reported a single combat hit. A whole lot was fired at them… For nothing to hit… well, it seems off.”

Robin yawned as he spoke, “I think we should just be happy the mine didn’t cave in on them or Dante’s group.”

“Yeah, OK, I’ll give you that.” Still the girl chewed on her lower lip in thought for a few seconds before adding, “I still think something is off about the whole thing though… I mean, Dante did what we were told. He aimed high on the frames allowing those of us in support to stun the NCs as they got in his way. But there was so many running out, it was hard to track. It was real crazy, but I’m telling you some of the fire from the Riots should have taken out a few of the NCs and done at least something to a frame or two.”

Robin yawned again as he studied the building Neil and Valerie had entered a couple of hours before. “Let’s just hope we can get Neil, Val, and all the remaining NCs out with as little harm.”

Luna’s mouth twisted up into a combination smirk and frown as she realized Robin was way too tired to really listen and was too focused in on Neil and Valerie to see the bigger picture. Having seen this out of him before, she dropped the talk about the mine and focused in on the problem at hand. “You trusted them enough to go in, so go take a break and grab some food. I’ll keep watch with Dante and the others he had up in the mine. We all got a, repair, refit, rearm and a short rest.”

“I’m not leaving…”

“Robin, Neil and Val aren’t going to make a move until they have a good one, and that could come now or ten hours from now. You can’t stand out here forever waiting. Besides, you’re tired and hungry and are a royal pain in the ass when you are. Take some downtime before I have to make you!”

Robin stared at Luna with a bit of anger, but suddenly found himself fighting off another yawn. Seeing Luna smirk at him as he failed, he rolled his eyes. “OK, fine, but if there is any kind of anything…”

“You don’t have to tell me. Neil and Val come first.”

“I was going to say radio me…”

“You stubborn S.O.B. Go get fed and at least take a nap! You’re already driving me nuts, so those under you out here probably all want to strangle you at this point!”

“But Neil and Val…”

Luna used the power assist of her frame to spin Robin around and kick his frame in the butt sending him stumbling away from the badly damaged central building of the mining camp. “Go, before I embarrass you!”

Robin’s eyes narrowed, but seeing a return stare he quickly relented, “OK, you’re in command then, but if anything happens to them…”

“I won’t let it anymore than you would. Now go!”

With a deep exhale Robin glanced back at the battle damaged building as he let out another yawn. “Eliminate anyone who you see even look at them wrong!”

“With extreme overkill,” Luna verified as she watched Robin tap Jessie and motion for his friend to join him.

Luna pointed toward a small hill as she spoke into her loudspeaker so those with Robin could hear, “Everyone on Robin’s team, we’re taking over. Follow Robin. They have a secure area set up behind the outer buildings with hot food.”

Robin couldn’t help but look back several times before the hill finally blocked his line of sight to the mining camp. He almost turned back, but Jared shouted out and waved him over. At the same time a Brave Humanities frame technician, standing outside of another environmental tent, pointed at him while gesturing to a portable repair gantry.

Jessie let out a sigh of relief at seeing the tech, “I sure hope they sent down a new ankle rod. This one is slowing me down.”

Robin let out a long breath, “Let’s find out, but I don’t want you being out of action too long.”

“If it’s going to take more than twenty minutes or so, I’ll just deal with this…”

The tech shook his head as the two boys made their way over, “I was monitoring your comms. Don’t worry about it. We set a replacement frame up for you. We’ll take the one you are in back up to get the whole leg replaced. The hydraulic shaft around the rod should have never ruptured the way it did, so we want to give it a full scan to see what went wrong.”

Robin whistled, “Wow, nothing like getting a whole new frame!”

“We don’t take kindly to the idea of sending out a defective product and the Patrol is one of our top of the line frames. If we find a major issue, we’ll recall the entire lot.”

Jessie looked over, “Are all the Patrols out here from the same lot?”

“Yeah, other than the one we are putting you in, which is another reason we want to get yours up to the ”White Tiger” for wide spectrum analysis. If there is any kind of problem, we’ll replace all of them.” The tech paused, “Since we are putting you in a new frame, and have to pull weapons, is there any configuration changes you want to make?”

“Well…”

The tech’s voice took an annoyed undertone, “Kid, this is your chance to rearm to a better configuration. If you want something, ask now while we have a brand new empty Patrol frame sitting here for you.”

Jessie sighed and nodded, “Um, OK… I don’t know if this is even possible, but the battle computer is giving me too much information. It’s nice, but just too confusing for me. If it could get it pulled out and upgrade the electron rifle to a blaster…” his voice drifted off as he wondered if he was asking for too much.

“Not a problem,” the tech responded as he typed the request into a small hand notepad. “Anything else?”

Robin responded, “Can you give him fists?”

The tech saw Jessie nod, “Sure can. Not many took them, so we have a couple of full crates left.”

“I’m betting more will after this, so be ready for lots of requests for them.”

“I’ll let supply know to expect it. Anything else?”

Jessie shook his head, “No. Everything else is fine.”

A female tech moved up and pointed for Robin to park his frame in one of the repair stations. “We’ll patch your armor and top off your ammo bins while you eat.”

Stepping out of it for the first time in over five hours made him realize just how tired he was. The frame’s power assist made doing some things too easy. Not having the frame around him meant even simple moves of his arms and legs caused a degree of muscle discomfort. At the same time, he couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the unfiltered air of the moon assaulted his nostrils for the first time. It had a stale smell, almost like the smell of dirty laundry.

Another Brave Humanities tech glanced over and handed him and Jessie electronic filter masks while speaking, “It won’t take away all the smell, but it will cut down on it and balance the air so you are breathing a better mixture of nitrogen and oxygen while cutting out some of the sulfur and dust contaminates. Once inside the E-tents, the smell is way better.”

Robin accepted the mask with a nod, while making a beeline for a tent with a sign over it indicating it was a mess hall. He entered and gratefully accepted a towel, while another young man in a Brave Humanities uniform pointed a sectioned off portable shower. Taking a quick shower to conserve water aboard the ”Grey Stallion” was a must so three minutes later he emerged and used the towel to dry himself off. Before he could ask where his clothing went, another tech handed him a clean jumpsuit and undergarments. Even as Robin made his way back to his dirty clothing to secure his personal weapons, a female pointed to a medic at a drink station. “Commander Bennett’s orders. Everyone gets a scan and must drink what the computer spits out. While it is your choice on what flavor to add, I’d stay away from the cherry. Everyone I’ve seen who has gone with cherry gives the look of it being too sour.”

Robin moved over, got an armband which really squeezed his wrist tight for a few seconds before it gave a readout to the medical tech. He tried to pull off the band only to see the tech shake her head, “It stays on until you drink the contents of the vitamin and electrolyte package the computer spits out for you. You’ll want to take the dispenser up on flavoring, but I don’t think the cherry is working quite right…”

Jessie, who was just started to get dressed nodded at the woman, “We’ve been told, but thanks.”

Robin selected apple flavor, then eyed the brownish looking liquid being spit out into a liter container with a very skeptical looking frown. As he was contemplating if he really wanted to drink what he was staring at, a female frame tech came over, and “I was told to come check with you. Your armor took a pounding. Any problems I need to know about while we replenish ammo and patch armor?”

Robin let out a long breath as he stretched and yawned, “Maybe it’s just me getting used to her, but I could swear there is a bit of a back lean I have had to adjust for.”

Jared glanced over as he was handed a full two and a half liter of brownish liquid to drink, “Could it be your leg is finally fixed and you’re not used to it?”

“Maybe…” Robin stated while reaching down to rub the back of his calf while glancing back at the dispenser with a shake of his head.

The medical tech pointed over to the liquid, “Until you drink, you can’t eat, nor will the guards let you out of the mess tent as long as you are wearing the wrist band.” She then glanced over at Jared, “And you are reading at mild dehydration levels, so you really need to dink up!”

The frame tech saw the looks on the boys’ faces and grinned, “It’s not as bad as it looks and it will make you feel lots better.”

Robin looked over to Jessie who reluctantly decided to drink the liter and a half of mud colored liquid before finally relenting. “OK, fine. But I still think there is a gyro problem with my frame!”

The woman patted Robin on the shoulder as he gulped down the concoction, “Eat and relax for a bit. I’ll run a quick diagnostic on it for you.”

Robin nodded his thanks and stuck out his arm so the medical lady could remove the band around his wrist, while cringing about the texture of what he had just poured down his throat. On the other hand, the flavor wasn’t too bad, so all things considered he realized it could have been worse. As the wristband was unlocked with an electronic key, he looked over a Jared with a smirk, “Man, I could sure get used to having someone to bring my frame back to for rearm and refit!”

Jared nodded in agreement even as his whole face scrunched up, “Oh, man, they weren’t kidding about the cherry being sour! Crap, I can’t believe I am going to have to drink this whole thing!”

Jessie couldn’t help but giggle at the expression, “Why’d you take cherry after they warned us?”

“I like sour, but… oh… oh… Can’t I toss this and…”

“No,” the medic shook her head, “it takes a full hour for the contests to be absorbed and each one of those cocktails is tailored to individual body chemistry and costs over fifty credits, probably close to a hundred for you since you had a dehydration and vitamin deficiency. By this readout, I’d say you eat too much sweets and not enough veggies. Now drink up.”

Jared stared at the liquid for a few seconds, then took another swig. His face badly contorted and his whole body shuddered causing everyone around him to burst into laughter.

Glen overheard the chortles of kids and came over. Seeing the expression on Jared’s face and him looking at a large container which was not even close to half empty he snickered, “Picked cherry didn’t you?”

While Jared managed a nod while taking a deep breath, Robin glanced over at the sound of his best friend’s voice with a great deal of excitement and relief, “Glen! I didn’t think they cleared you…”

“They wouldn’t let me do a combat drop because of the stupid concussion from the miss-fold, but they brought me down with the repair and refit shuttle as a guard so I could get used to the frame.” He stopped for a second, “The whole thing about me getting to keep it as mine is a joke, right?”

Robin shook his head as he was handed a large plate of food. He eagerly moved over to a table as the smell of meatloaf, potatoes and gravy caused his mouth to water. “As much as I am finding it hard to believe, they’re ours. What’d you pick?”

“Are you kidding?” Glen snorted out. “I grabbed one of the Patrol frames.”

“As many times as you played around in my dad’s I’d have been shocked if you hadn’t… but man, you really should have at least looked at the Escort. What a powerhouse!”

“I did and I really thought about it, but I know the Patrol and didn’t want to look like an idiot in a frame I know nothing about. Besides, I already knew what I wanted on it and they pretty much gave it all to me!”

Robin glanced over at Jessie, “He doesn’t even have to tell me. He’s got a pair of RAM grenade launchers, a pair of mid-sized lasers and two machineguns…”

“I would have, but they made me take a stupid stunner!”

“Oh, yeah, forgot. So what did you pass on?”

Glen grumbled, “I dropped one of the machineguns and added a pico missile three pack… but if it’s really mine, the second I get away from these Brave Humanities guys, the stunner and pico launcher goes away and the second machinegun goes in!”

Robin snickered, “It’s going to be a race to see what we can scrounge up to replace the stunners, for sure.”

Jessie gave Glen a smile, “You might like the Pico missile. I had them on my Cadet frame and really liked them.”

“If I do end up liking it, I’ll upgrade to a six pack and still drop the stunner.”

Robin laughed as Jessie tossed up his arms in surrender. He paused and turned serious again, “So are they going to let you see combat today?”

Glen’s shoulders sagged, “I’m a guard only today. Nothing frontline. I was kind of hoping these Q VI pukes would try something when we first came in, but now there is a solid perimeter and it sounds like they don’t have much left, so I guess I’m just here to look good.”

Robin shot a sly look over to Jessie, “They picked the wrong Grenadier if they were looking for someone to look good.”

Glen rolled his eyes as he delivered a solid punch into Robin’s shoulder. “Yeah, like you should be the long black haired beauty…”

Jessie shot Glen a smirk, “Hey, I think he would look great in a dress. His hair is long enough…”

Even as Glen busted up laughing, Jessie quickly jumped back, narrowly avoiding a backhand from Robin.

Robin pointed at Jessie, “Oh, dude, this ain’t over!”

Jessie’s grin was massive as he took another step back and accepted his own plate of food, “How can it be? You aren’t in a dress and looking pretty yet. I bet we could find some colored ribbons for your hair too!”

Glen’s smile grew even wider, “Damn, Robin, it sure didn’t take him long to lose his Q VII stuffiness!”

Robin gave Jessie a warning wag of a finger before turning back to Glen, “He’s getting there, for sure. In case you haven’t heard, he is one of us. So is Cody.”

Glen’s smile faded, “Yeah, Cody told me.” He looked over at Jessie, “I also heard about your family. You ever need to talk; my door is always open.”

Jessie’s eyes teared up, but his voice stayed strong, “Let’s just get a couple of these jerks so we can find out where they took my brother. The Brave Humanities rescue crews say they didn’t find my little sister either, just her coat with some blood on it… so some Q VI pukes may have her somewhere too…”

Glen sat next to Jessie and put his arm over the boy’s shoulders. “We’ll help you chase them around this whole galaxy and further if we need to. Take some downtime and get some food. There’s not a lot you can do right now, anyway.”

Robin took in a deep breath, “Nothing is more like it. It’s all up to Neil and Val now.”

Neil waited and watched for an opportunity to do something, anything, but those holding the hostages didn’t leave any obvious openings. Doing anything more than exchanging a few words with the others also brought nasty looks, so Neil quickly backed off trying. Instead he and Valerie concentrated on picking up bits and pieces of talk between the captors. This was made easier since those holding them chatted quite a bit in Russian, not realizing they could be understood.

After nearly six hours, and getting a meal which was little more than a snack, he was starting to think they would just have to make a move. This changed suddenly when four frames came into view from a back room. One of them was in a Riot frame with very heavy combat damage, including an arm with a shot up shoulder unit. The others were in new-looking Bandit class frames. This caused Neil’s heart to speed up, since this was not something he expected to see.

A glance from Neil over to Valerie told him she was caught off-guard by the new arrivals as well. Neil chewed on the inside of his lower lip as the woman working on the Aggressor frame turned to the pilot of the first Bandit and spoke in Russian. “So we finally broke through and Anson Mining came through on getting us some frames. What all did they leave us?”

The pilot’s voice told everyone it was a female inside the frame, “We have the miners widening the hole, but yeah the supplies are right where we were told they would be. However, calling this combat equipment is a real stretch. They gave us sixteen frames, but all of them are these pieces of junk and they all have identical baseline load-outs. Glad they have the spotlights, though. The mine is a dark bitch.”

“Well, it is better than what we have left. Just so you know we need to get out of here as quickly as possible. While you were below, we lost Danill, Isaj, and Lada in a failed assault on us.”

“What? When?” the man in the Riot frame asked with clear anger in his voice.

“Several hours ago, and I know you had a special interest in Lada, Corporal. Keep your head screwed on straight and look at the up side. With three of the junior framers out, we only need twelve of those frames, eleven if I can get this damned knee joint unstuck. We’ll sure as hell keep a couple of the others as spares and sell off one or two of the others for some cash, though. What about transport, parts, and AIM paperwork?”

A female in another frame spoke up. “For the most part, really good Lieutenant. Anson came through on everything. They got us listed with AIM as a D minus fledgling unit, and this is an approved facilities raid with cease of production as our contract target. We got the whole thing and it is AIM certified.”

“Good, so we are legal on this. What other treasures did they leave us, Borya?”

The corporal in the Riot responded. “A whole lot of military surplus crap, is what they got us. We have one full reload for each of these frames and two fully stocked repair kits, one for frames and one for the vehicles along with a small stack of armor repair rods, nothing else new. Transport sucks, big time. Everything is in two old petro-chem turret machinegun armed wheeled ore haulers with box enclosures. Each has securing slots for twelve frames in the back with an assault ramp. They both have a passenger compartment for fifteen with sleeping racks, too. These things must have been bought at some military surplus sale or more likely bought them off a disbanding merc unit. They sure aren’t standard and someone with a twisted sense of humor must have custom built them. At least Anson gave them an overhaul. While they are old, the engines are new as is the armor, drive train and tires.”

The man who had found and hit Neil came out of the back room and spoke up, “Anson’s a mining company, they may have bought them because they work on a mining platform base and they know how to repair mining equipment. Sounds to me what they gave us will work, so we ought to be happy. We have all seen what other units got off of the type of contract we put together with Anson.”

At this the woman in the first Bandit frame snorted, “True, very, very true. It could be worse. There’s one other upside, but it ain’t much. As promised they came through on skirting repair for our hover platform and armor plating and a bumper for our tracked platform, along with a replacement track. They even tossed in a second spare track. The others are patching up our armor right now. As for other gear, they gave us a pair of new field med kits along with food and water ration packs for sixty for a week, a couple of cases of assault rifles, a case of side arms, plenty of spare magazines, and two cases of ammo. They rounded out what they considered field equipment with boxes of survival knives, military packs, assorted sizes of military jumpsuits with no markings and some web gear. They also tossed in a huge crate of boots, with plenty in every size, but they are hiking boots, not combat. There is also a massive bag of standard AIM rank pins.”

The lieutenant nodded, “Enough to get started with. What about fuel for the new transports and ours?”

Once again the corporal answered, “It’s not great, but should do us. Each of the boxed mining platforms has large reserve fuel tanks on the sides and the internal and reserves are full. They also left us a fuel bladder, so we had enough to top off our tanks and our reserves. I’m guessing we have about a nine hundred kilometer range with what we have, which is cutting it little close for my liking, but as long as we don’t get hit, we should be fine. If those external reserves they hooked on take any hits we are screwed though.”

The lieutenant gave a shrugging motion, “As long as we can get off this rock, I’m happy. Anything else I need to know?”

The woman in the first Bandit sighed, “Anson Mining stuck a couple of spare tires on top of each of the mining platforms, which blocks the arch of the turret to the back, but our armor jocks say they prefer having the tires than a full field of fire. Unfortunately, we have to get to the Grey Sands mining station to get transport to New Brunswick Prime. Making matters worse, getting planetside will be aboard an ore ship. This means we will have to take the ride in the vehicles, which is about a five-day trip. From what the map looks like, the Grey Sands station is about six hundred kilometers from here, so we’ll have to buy food and fuel once we get planetside. At least there is confirmation of an open Merc Unit Transport ticket for us, our two armor platforms, and the ore haulers, along with whatever is in them. And again, it’s not much. Just a unit ticket to get to anywhere within a single fold of here. Once we are down on New Brunswick, we’ve got a way out of this piss poor system.”

The lieutenant didn’t look thrilled, but her voice didn’t carry nearly the level of annoyance and anger as the female inside the Bandit frame. “It’s about as much as we can expect given the on the fly contract and the fact they got us AIM certified. All things considered Sergeant Polzin is correct. We have seen way less handed over on this kind of gig.” She kicked at the Aggressor frame, “But I’d sure like to get this piece of rubbish working right!”

The Corporal Afonin again spoke up, “Well, you’re better off than I am. You just have a locked knee. This shot up hunk can barely stand and I can’t hope to squeeze into one of those.” He pointed to one of the Bandits. “I can barely fit into this pile of crap!”

“Chill, Corporal Afonin.” Trofin Polzin stated with a commanding voice. “Yours and the mangled Garrison are done for. Once we are organized, we’ll strip off the weapons and a few useable parts and leave ’em.”

“So what about a frame for me?”

“Oh, come on Borya,” the lieutenant scoffed, “stop your whining already. We’ll have someone in one of the Trainers switch with you. They can take a Bandit. I know it’s not what you like, but you’re used to Trainers and you’ll at least have a fully working frame you can fit in.”

While this took the edge off the man’s voice he was clearly not happy. “I sure hope you have a plan to get us some real equipment, Lieutenant. The only kind of contracts we can take with what we’ve been left with is a security gig guarding someplace like this!”

The lieutenant shook her head in aggravation while turning to one of the men who had brought Neil and Valerie down to the basement. “Sergeant Polzin, go with Borya, grab a frame, tell Olga to take a Bandit, and give her Trainer to Corporal Afonin on my orders.”

She then focused back on Corporal Afonin. “Once you are framed up, get back here with a couple of the others, so the rest of us can grab Bandits. We’ll be way better off once everyone is framed up.”

Sergeant Trofin Polzin looked over at the other man who had been with him when they found Neil and Val, then back at the woman, “How about I take Pavel and a few of the brats since I am going all the way there?”

“I don’t care if Private Zherdev is with you, but we don’t need any kids, Sergeant. Now get going with the others so you all can get framed up. But I want you to stay with the equipment. You’ll prevent them from getting cold feet on me.”

Trofin pointed down at the kids, “Ma’am, at the moment I’m listed as your XO and I need to speak up here. Look around for a second. We’re all but doing this on a wing and a prayer and this whole thing is our only backup plan. These kids could be what we need to get off this rock.”

The lieutenant shot the sergeant a frown, “Trofin, they’ll just get in the way and be one more thing we have to worry about, besides, they’re nothing but mining urchins. What worth could they have to us?”

“Come on, ma’am, they’re leverage. And while they may be a bit of a hassle, they’ll be better off with us than stuck under tons of rubble. Even if you don’t care, they are walking talking extra influence for us. Keep in mind, while we were not part of the miss-fold or the attempt to kill those on the Wagon, we did get to this moon on the same transport as those who did. Add in the fact you shot a guy in cold blood, Lieutenant, and I’d like a little something to negotiate with and these kids are all I see to give us something to barter with.”

Trofin stared straight into the woman’s eyes. “And while we should be able to show we were not part of the sabotage of the fold craft, they may use the execution of the hostage to try and pin it all on us. Besides, AIM contract or not, you shot a restrained hostage in the back of the head. While this is a valid mission, doing what you did, in the way you did it, is going to be seen as beyond harsh. A few may even try to call it murder. If those we are facing manage to catch us, having some hostages may let you negotiate an out.”

Corporal Afonin leaned the Riot frame up against a wall, popped the back hatch and wiggled out, showing he was a big guy who had to be at the upper edges of a Riot frame’s size rating. The fact he spent a few seconds stretching, told both Neil and Valerie he had been cramped inside a frame which was able to fit the vast majority of pilots, from small to large.

The man rolled his neck and looked into the holding area, “Normally I’d say take some of the adults, but they will be harder to get ransom for and are more likely to give us problems, so our XO is correct, ma’am. AIM will back us on the contract, sure, but if we can offer hostages, AIM will have some leverage with those who hit us. Besides, even if we don’t need them for leverage, they have got to be worth some credits to the right mining company. Get a company to pay ransom and in exchange they can make the families pay, plus tack on an exchange fee. Or, if there is no money to be had for them, the urchins can work it off under indentured servitude. It’s a mining moon and I bet every camp up here needs cheap labor.”

One of the women in a Bandit frame also spoke up, “I’m also with the XO, ma’am. They are cash or bargaining chips and the way it’s looking we need both.”

Seeing the woman considering the words, Neil slid over to Valerie while digging into his pocket, “After the way they talked about you, you can’t go with them. Take all of these but one, and see if their lieutenant will let you take a look at her frame while I cause enough of a problem so they focus on me.”

Valerie looked at Neil like he was crazy, “We can’t separate…”

“Come on, Val, you can make your move since there will only be a couple of guards left. Besides, they still don’t know we can understand them when they speak Russian. Maybe I can get them to slip up and tell me where they took the others.”

“It doesn’t really sound like they were with the others and probably don’t know much. Besides, if you get on their bad side, you’ll end up a bloody mess and Robin will be pissed at both of us.”

Neil grinned nervously, “Maybe the others will start giving me more credit if I come back a little beat up.”

“You already are, though. You have a hand print on your face, and I know you’ve got to have a bruise from the punch too.”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing compared to the others after the escape pod crash on New Bravaria. Besides, while he punched me hard enough to knock the air out of me, he didn’t hit me as nearly as hard as he could have. It was a warning, nothing more. I’m fine and tired of hearing how I’m charmed and crap because I only ended up with a few scratches in the escape pod crash.”

“Getting purposefully pounded on isn’t what anyone expects, though!”

Before more could be said, the lieutenant turned and glared at the two of them while speaking in English, “What is all the chatter about in there?”

Neil put a hand on Valerie’s shoulder to keep her from standing while helping himself up, “I was wondering who the woman in the brown vest is.” He pointed right at the woman in thick leather vest. “She ain’t part of our mining camp and she got more food than the rest of us!”

The woman sitting in with the hostages started to say something but was waved off by the woman who was clearly in charge. The conversation stayed in English, “No sense in keeping you with them any longer, Sophia. They’ve been steering clear of you anyway. You pick up anything from them?”

“There was some surprise when Private Zherdev tossed Mr. Mouthy and his girlfriend in, but what little talk has been going on, has been kept away from me. I’m with Trofin, by the way. We need to take some of the kids so we have a barter chip or seven. Those attacking us are going to want to pin the miss-fold on us, and will try to use the shooting of the old fool as evidence. With an AIM contract and us giving them a few kids back, it’ll certainly be enough for AIM to pressure whoever is out there to let us leave system. We all know exactly how AIM review boards work, so let’s use it to our advantage.

“We can try to say we were carrying out the contract by taking out one of the company execs. If it doesn’t wash, which it should, I’m sure the old fool’s death will be chalked up to us facing superior firepower and our being a D minus upstart. At the very most, they’ll drop a sanction on us. We’ll work out an agreement saying we’ll be more careful of NCs in the future and pay a small fine. This is especially true since we were being attacked at the time and were desperate. If AIM goes that far, they’ll probably take away record of this being a successful mission and move it down to a neutral outcome, but at least we will be able to get the hell away from here with one non-failure mission on our AIM listing.

“But let’s face it, killing off the hostages isn’t going to be looked on favorably at this point. This shithole is out of action. Needless killing isn’t what we want on our AIM record. We need to let the rest to live, but having a few kids to hand over will be the icing needed for the AIM board to call it good or at least a wash. The verbal contract was for cease of production raid with full salvage. With this being a moon with no law, we can claim some of these dirt diggers as salvage. Giving them some brats back and leaving the rest alive will be seen as a gesture of goodwill. We can then ransom back those we don’t hand back to AIM or whoever is behind this assault, or whatever for some extra cash.”

Hearing what was being talked about in English, the eyes of the adults and kids went wide and a few start to stand up to protest.

The lieutenant gestured toward one of the Bandit frames, “If they don’t sit down and shut up, start shooting them until they do. Cease of production can mean elimination of those doing the producing. Goodwill or not, elimination is still very viable.”

As the pilot of the frame turned its arm mounted machinegun toward the group, Valerie yanked Neil down, while speaking loudly enough to be heard over the nervous cries of fear of the vast majority of the others. “Good thing she can tell others what to do, since she can’t even fix a stupid stuck hydraulic rod.”

This got a really nasty frown directed at Valerie from the lieutenant, “And what would a kid wearing a really stupid flower hat know about hydraulics?”

“All that is,” Valerie pointed at the frame, “is a fancy mining exoskeleton with armor and guns and junk. I may just be a ore sorter, but even I can fix a dumb stuck knee rod!”

The words caused a mean growl from the person in the frame, but the lieutenant raised an eyebrow while motioning for the pilot of the frame to lower the weapon. “Then get your little ass over here and fix it!”

“Why should I? You’re talking about taking us…”

The lieutenant’s voice took on a sinister undertone and she moved up on Valerie, “Because if you don’t, I’ll order Myra to start shooting others until you do.”

Valerie’s eyes went wide as she realized the woman was dead serious. “OK! Just don’t hurt Finn…”

The lieutenant moved into the holding area and looked down at Neil, “Let me guess, this is Finn?”

Valerie nodded while making her lip quiver as best she could. All she really wanted to do was take the switchblade she had hidden in her left sock and shove it into the woman’s beady eye, so showing fear wasn’t terribly easy.

However, fear was what the woman expected to see, so she took the pretend scared look at face value. She reached down, yanked Neil up to his feet and shoved him over to Trofin. “I want you framed up. Go ahead, take over Dominika’s frame since they all have the same load-outs and you are my XO. And since most of the others agree with you, go ahead and take this one and three or four of the others… whatever, but they are your problem and responsibility. Also secure the three from the Quaker VII academy we have working down below. They probably have more worth to AIM than a bunch of miner brats. They have Basic AIM listings as cadets, after all.”

She then pointed at Neil, and turned to look at Valerie, “Just so you know, if you don’t get my frame fixed by the time they get back with frames for the rest of us, even if I let him live, you’ll never see him again. However, if you get it working, you’ll get to see him again and will even be rewarded for it. I’ll even agree to blow the upper level, pinning your fellow dirt diggers in here to give us time to escape instead of moving them into the tunnel and dropping it on them like I originally planned. It’ll take a day or two, but it will allow everyone else in here to survive and they will owe you big.”

Valerie glanced back at those looking at her with terror written on their faces and gave them a wink. “If I get it running, I want everyone to get more food and leave a few of those oxygen tanks down here so they don’t suffocate since they’ll be trapped down here, with no air.”

The woman backhanded Valerie, knocking her down, “You’ll do what you are told and then I’ll see about any extra perks. Until then, shut your mouth and get to work!”

Valerie dabbed at her split lip, noting the rest of those being held captive were staring at her with a mixture of stunned fear and slivers of hope. She sent them all a smirk, showing she was nowhere near as hurt as she pretended to be. “Fine, but can’t you at least give us a little more food, now? I’m starving.”

Trofin jumped into the frame as ordered, then spoke up in Russian as he grabbed Neil. “She’s tougher than she looks, Lieutenant, but beating the crap out of her will not get anything fixed. Also, remember, she missed at least one meal. She wasn’t with those we brought down here when we first fed them.”

The lieutenant let out a long breath and tossed Valerie a Quaker VII military standard ration pack. “Here, eat this while you work on my frame.”

Trofin nodded at Valerie, “It’s got a vitamin hydration pack in there. They don’t taste good, but it’s good for you, so drink it.”

The lieutenant turned back to Trofin while speaking in Russian, “Make sure to give her boyfriend one when you get to the transports. If I come out with her and my frame, we’ll make sure they are taken care of. If not, well, life will really suck for both.”

Trofin nodded as he looked over the group of youngsters. He selected a few other kids, one at a time, and pushed them over to the others. He stuck to Russian as he responded, “I’ll keep him safe and with me. If she comes through for you, we can give them a couple of the light E-suits and a few Q VII rations. It’ll take them at least a day to walk around the ridge to get back to the camp, and by then we’ll be long gone. If she doesn’t, I’ll claim him as salvage.” He turned back to the others, “You all grab these four. They are old enough to understand the need to do what we tell them and to not cry too much. The others are kind of young or hurt and will be more hassle than I want to deal with.”

Seeing Borya grab one of the girls by the hair, Trofin cleared his throat, then continued to speak in Russian, “Corporal, knock it off! Remember they are for ransom, so we want them in good health and basically unharmed. Besides, we really don’t want to listen to them bawling, she’s just a kid, and hasn’t done anything to you.” He stared at the others, “Same for the rest of you. Take it easy. Now secure them if needed, prod if they start to slow us down, but be careful. Most of us are in frames and could accidentally snap bones. Do so, and I swear I’ll duplicate whatever you did to them and leave you here for costing us possible bargaining power and cash.”

Valerie said nothing while making it a point to watch where Trofin was taking Neil. She had to fight hard to keep her mouth shut, since the man had his frame’s hand under Neil’s armpit, which had to be very uncomfortable. Of the other four kids Trofin had selected, the man who exited the Riot frame held on to two and had the collars of both firmly gripped in his hands while the other two were each taken by one of the Bandit frame pilots.

However, the way Neil was grabbed and held forced him to walk quickly and awkwardly, but she could also tell the man was only grabbing the underside of the jacket, so Neil didn’t have the powered grip of a frame hand on him. The other two being led by frames were not so lucky. One was being grabbed by her arm, the other by his shoulder.

Several minutes after the group moved out of sight, four of the other lightly wounded adults, under orders of the lieutenant, came in and secured four slightly younger kids Trofin didn’t earmark for being hostages. Two of them started crying almost instantly when pulled away from the group. One even tried to reach out to a parent, only to get slapped hard, while a pistol was stuck into the face of the woman who tried to protest.

Finally three others emerged from a back room, two men carried a third who was in a makeshift stretcher. The person on the stretcher was a kid in his mid-teens and had a blood-soaked bandage over his left shoulder and his leg was in a splint. It took only a single look at the young man, then back at the lieutenant to see the kid was related and probably her son. The lieutenant picked a couple of young adults from the hostages to carry the stretcher with a threat of being shot and left for dead if they dropped it or did any extra damage to the person on the stretcher.

Anger surged in Valerie, but she didn’t make a move or say anything. She had to play the part of a scared kid if Neil’s new plan was going to work. She was also relieved the man who took Neil at least seemed to care a little. Maybe Neil had been correct, the guy hadn’t hit him as hard as he could have. In the grand scope of the situation, she knew it was not much to be happy about, but anything was better than nothing, and this was still better than being drug into an Earth Core ship to be some kind of gladiator or slave. After what happened on New Bravaria, this really wasn’t anything worth getting too bent out of shape over.

Valerie looked around. She noted this left only five remaining hostiles, two of which were in frames, both Garrison class. One of the Garrisons showed heavy armor damage but looked totally functional. The second appeared to have no combat damage at all and looked all but brand new. The last three combatants included the lieutenant and the woman in the vest who moved to stand very close to the badly damaged Riot frame the big man had left with its back hatch open. The final one was the woman who had been ordered to give her frame to the sergeant. The young woman was in her late teens and looked too scared and tired to be more than a token threat.

Seeing the lieutenant glaring at her, Valerie ripped open the packing of the meal with her teeth and started fiddling with the hydraulic unit on the frame’s knee.

The fact it was a Quaker VII and not a Quaker VI meal packet surprised her some, but she shrugged it off, figuring they had taken some military rations either out of the academy or from a military base. She also bet the Q VII rations were way better than anything Q VI gave their people, and even better she had eaten plenty back on Q VII, so she was happy to get it.

She munched slowly even as she looked over the knee rod. It was leaking from the top, and what little of the internal rod she could see was dry. She actually found it humorous. This wasn’t anything near as bad as some of the things she had seen and repaired on Grenadier frames. Nothing was bent, the rod itself looked smooth, and the housing didn’t show any combat damage. However, she also didn’t want to make it too obvious she knew exactly how to fix it. Not only would it look suspicious, the last thing she wanted was to get it running too quickly. She had to give Neil time to make whatever play he was planning.

After a few minutes of poking at the rod and trying to wiggle it with a pair of pliers, she looked back at the lieutenant and asked a question even though she already knew the answer, “How do you remove the armor plate around the lower connection?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Because, it’s got a bad gasket and I need to take it off so I can pull it apart.”

The woman in the vest moved up, “You don’t need to take the armor off, and even if you did, it wouldn’t do you any good. The connection points for all the hydraulics are under the padding inside the frame. It prevents it from getting shot off once the armor is breeched. This way if it is damaged it locks up and keeps the pilot with support. If it didn’t, the leg would buckle and so would the leg of whoever is inside.”

“So I need to climb in and find the connection pins?”

“Yes, but they are bolts, not pins. You’re working on a combat machine meant to take a great deal of punishment and still function. If you are sure you can fix it, I’ll show you with a shoulder since we can both stick our heads in the back. Then you can go head first and get to the knee.”

“It’s not a real hard fix, but I am going to need some hydraulic fluid and gaskets.”

The lieutenant frowned, “Don’t have any repair equipment here. Figure it out and get it running or forget about seeing your boyfriend… ever.”

Valerie looked around with pretend nervousness before she focused in on the damaged Riot frame. “Can I pull a couple of hydraulic assemblies out the one you ain’t using?”

The woman in the vest spoke up, “It’s all but trashed, so sure, but what good will it do you? Those are totally different sized frames with big differences in hydraulics.”

“I don’t want to do a part swap, I want to drain the fluid and use the gaskets to make a temp repair to this knee, but it’ll take time since I will have to pull apart all the rods careful enough to not spill any of the fluid and keep the gaskets intact as possible.”

“Fine, if you really think you can do it, feel free to pull what you want out of the Riot.” The woman pointed, not realizing Valerie knew the frames instantly by sight. “I’ll walk you through getting to the hydraulics and pulling them out of the Riot frame, then you can show us what you got.”

Thirty minutes later, Valerie pulled out the gaskets of the shoulder hydraulic units of the damaged Riot frame, dumped the fluid into the knee assembly of the Aggressor and seated the larger gaskets. She then trimmed down the seals with a borrowed knife before putting it back together. She held up the unit, pulled on the rod with everything she had, which pulled it out only a sixteenth of the way, then let go, it quickly snapped back. “Should be good, but you will get a little bit of leakage because I used the wrong sized gaskets. It should stop once you move it a few times. If not, you’ll have to pull it back off and replace the gaskets again before it goes totally dry. One way or the other, it is a patch job, so you need to get the proper gasket package in there. Eventually it will blow out or rupture with what I did, but should give you a hundred hours or so.”

The lieutenant cocked her head to the side as the woman in the vest moved up and checked the movement. Getting a nod, the lieutenant snorted, “Well, I’ll be damned. You really do have some use! Where the hell did you learn how to work on hydraulics?”

“We have lots of junk with hydraulics, including the lifters on the conveyor we sort off of and the old mining exoskeleton they retired and let us pick up the ore with. When things break, we either fix it or lift and sort by hand until maintenance gets to them. I learned how to make quick repairs because this company is cheap and they really don’t care if we have to do it by hand for a few days. Plus, what we use is always low on the priority list since once you get old enough you have to work and it really doesn’t matter to most if we sort the easy or hard way. We get paid the same and we don’t get off until the sort is done.”

The woman in the vest snickered, “For a girl in a stupid flower hat, you got some grit. You ever think of becoming a merc?”

Valerie had to fight to keep a straight face, “Me?”

“Yeah, you and your boyfriend both got something the rest of this group doesn’t,” the woman remarked, “heart. You’re tougher than most of the adults in this damned camp. There are plenty of merc units looking for mentally strong young tech apprentices. Who knows, one of these years you may even learn how to pilot one of these.”

Valerie shrugged as she slid the rod behind the armor shielding, then stuck her head in to attach the bolts while responding. “Doesn’t look much different than being in a mining exoskeleton. I can drive one of those, so I bet I could drive this.”

“Yeah, right!” the lieutenant scoffed.

Valerie stood up and climbed in like a pilot would, as if checking it out, “It’s all closed in, and there are no joy stick controls, but I still think I could do it!”

This got some chuckles out of the others, who exchanged comments in Russian about the girl doing a face plant the first time she tried to move. None of them were concerned since the frame was on a computer voice password lockout, so they let her check it out.

This was exactly what Valerie was hoping for. She took a moment to pull one of the small chips Neil had given her out of her pocket, popped out the IR chip add-on and slid the new chip in place. She inhaled deeply as she tapped the reboot switch and held her breath. A few seconds later the computer came on line. Valerie raised an eyebrow as the HUD lit up showing a total memory wipe of the system. The HUD flashed a half dozen times as the backup memory reloaded the information into the subroutines for things like the targeting computer and the gyro balancing.

It then ran down a list of diagnostics, showing there was twenty-nine rounds of ammo left for the RAM grenade launcher and fifty-four missiles for the micro missile six-pack on the right shoulder. The two standard lasers then appeared in the load-out, as power was sent to them and they become active.

By this time the hum of the frame was noticed, but it was far too late for any of the adults to stop it. Valerie ordered the back hatch to close even as she changed the password to ‘Q VI bites’.

While the woman in the vest shouted at the lieutenant about not having lockout set, the lieutenant screamed at the other two frames to stop Valerie.

Valerie spun and backhanded the young woman who had given her frame to the sergeant. The force from the power assisted frame launched the woman into the wall, breaking a couple of bones and knocking her cold.

Valerie then turned on the already battered Garrison frame and delivered a well-placed punch into its side and followed it up with a kick to the leg. This caught the pilot off guard. The Garrison fell hard.

The second Garrison fired a snapshot with its standard laser and followed it up with the screeching sound of a sonic rifle, both of which missed since it was at very close range and Valerie was both moving and spinning to draw fire away from where the hostages were.

Seeing the lieutenant moving toward the hostages with a submachinegun in her hand, Valerie voice-ordered an override on the minimum detonation distance on the RAM grenade and fired it into the chest of the frame she knocked over. The blast caused minor armor damage alerts to chirp out to her left side and leg, but otherwise left her unharmed. The same could not be said for the lieutenant or the fallen Garrison frame. The female commander was picked up off the ground slammed into the wall while being lanced with bits the grenade and a chunk of the Garrison’s armor. She slid down the wall leaving a gruesome red streak, before falling into a heap leaking blood from over a dozen locations. At the same time, the center chest armor of the Garrison frame caved inward and breached causing something under the mangled armor to start smoking.

The close proximity of the blast also knocked over the unoccupied Riot frame onto the woman in the vest who had been in the process of trying to climb into it. While she had almost made it and thus been protected from the blast and the shrapnel, it fell before she could pull her herself all the way in, pinning her leg under a few hundred kilos of metal. Her screams were mostly contained in the toppled frame, but not all of it.

Even as chunks of the ceiling fell and many of the hostages howled in fear and pain over the fact the blast wave shattered most of the lights and did some damage to eardrums, Valerie turned to focus on the final Garrison frame even as she pulled her left arm out of the arm of the frame she was in, yanked out the now fried chip and slid the IR chip back in. It took a few seconds for the IR to come on line, but when it did, it left her with a substantial advantage over both enemy frames since neither had IR enhancements.

The little remaining lighting made targeting hard for those in the Garrison frames and it showed. The one on the ground missed with a laser. Whoever was in the second Garrison showed the pilot was badly rattled as long bursts from the twin light machineguns sent almost a score of rounds into the walls while only hitting her with a pair of rounds.

Valerie continued to move in an attempt to draw fire away from those in the far room, while putting a pair of laser shots into the downed Garrison. Since it was still down, and an easy target, both lasers burned straight through the already breached armor and into the pilot killing her instantly. This made things even more chaotic. The frame detected a medical emergency and automatically released red smoke, which quickly filled the basement area.

The pilot of the second frame quickly retreated, first firing at the stairs going up, detonating the charges the lieutenant had placed on the stair supports as a last resort. The resulting explosions collapsed the ceiling and cut off escape. The frame then backed off, taking a RAM grenade and a pair of lasers from Valerie, but managed to destroy the elevator tube by shooting at the explosive packs attached to each side before it moved into the passage. It then fired everything it had at the roof and walls as it backed off. Valerie did her best to rush forward, but was forced back as large chunks of rock started falling. She managed to put another laser into the frame, but it was nowhere near enough to stop what was happening. Seconds later the back passage was clogged with rock.

“NO!” Valerie shouted even as she helplessly stood and watched the rest of the carved-out passage cave in. Muffled sounds of shooting and more rocks coming down told her, whoever was piloting the fleeing frame was making sure there was no way it could be followed by dropping even more of the mined out escape route.

Valerie switched the radio over to O’Connell Grenadiers standard emergency frequency, “Robin! Luna!” Getting nothing, she switched over to Q VII academy and tried again, “Robin, Jared, Luna! Anyone!” All she got back was static. There was too much rock and reinforced building between her and the outside world for the signal to get out. She took a knee and slammed the frame’s fist into the ground half a dozen times before hanging her head and muttering, “If something happens to Neil, Robin and Luna are going to kill me!”

Neil cringed as he was half-led, half-dragged down a newly excavated passage. It was, admittedly, scary since there was only a single cord light along the floor. This made the passage gloomy, but it was enough to see the cut through the rock had been done with no supports and there were cracks in the rocks on the sides and above. The movement of the frames along the rough craved ground caused bits of rock to dislodge from the walls and overhead. There was nothing even remotely safe about the passage.

Hearing the kids behind him let out scared yelps as bits of stone rained down on them, told him he was far the only one not happy to be forced into the narrow passage. The fact it sloped downward only contributed to the sense of foreboding. The other thing not sitting well with him was the man in the frame holding on to him showed no sign of letting go, and there was no chance he could pull loose the way he was being held. Neil made one attempt to rip the jacket so he could get loose, but all it did was to get him lightly tapped on the back of the head with a metal finger hard enough to badly sting while not leaving a knot.

While being manhandled by a frame made it difficult to walk, what was more concerning to Neil was the fact each step took him further away from the two frames he had been told about and any real chance of escape. Making matters worse, the knife he had hidden in the small of his back under the jacket had to be somewhat visible the way he was being held. While he kept hoping it hadn’t been spotted, with each passing step he grew more certain it had been. About the only good things Neil could put his finger on about the whole situation was the guy didn’t seem to want to hurt him and even protected Neil some since he kept his free hand held out over Neil’s head, so none of the falling stones would directly hit him.

With no chance to do anything against someone in a frame he stopped fighting. Neil also did his best to keep moving without stumbling. At least being held the way he was, when he did stumble he couldn’t fall. Within a couple of minutes, he started to get the hang of it, and was able to kind of skip walk. The situation behind him didn’t sound so good, however. Several of the kids yelped as they struggled to move in the narrow passage, made tighter because the frames barely fit. Hearing some of the others behind him being difficult and starting to complain, he cringed. These people were desperate and Neil felt responsible for those with him since he was one of the reasons they had been taken. Finally he called out, “Stop fighting them and shut up! They’re in frames and could crush us like bugs!”

Upon hearing this, Trofin, the man holding Neil, reached out, grabbed the blade Neil had tucked into his back and let go. He then gave him a light shove. “Keep moving but do so slowly. We have to be real careful in the passage. I’ll let you walk on your own as long as you listen to me and keep telling the others to stay calm. Also, I hope you know I could have hit you much harder upstairs. I really don’t want any of you hurt. However, resist or try to run and you will regret it in more ways than you can imagine.”

Neil looked back with wide eyes and nodded, not liking the fact he had been caught with what he had hoped would be his primary weapon in a surprise attack. At the same time, he was beyond glad the man didn’t seem to be angry with him for having it. Once again he called out for the others to stop fighting their captors even as he started walking at a careful pace, giving the frame right behind him enough time to wiggle through some of the really narrow spots. For several minutes, the only sounds were the feet of the frames crunching rock, the occasional whimper of one of the other kids, and rocks hitting the ground as they fell from the ceiling, dislodged by the light tremors caused by the frames as they maneuvered down the passage.

After nearly twenty minutes the narrow, roughly mined, passage intersected with a much larger tunnel. It didn’t do it at ground level to the other tunnel, however. Instead it was a good two and a half meters up, almost at the roof of the new passage. A pile of rock, a bent jackhammer, and a single body off to the side told Neil whoever had been the lead guy probably fell with his gear and had been killed. He cringed at the sight.

Trofin reached out and grabbed Neil, making sure the boy didn’t fall. “Wiggle around behind me. I’ll jump down and hold up my arms, then you can climb down my frame.”

Neil nodded in understanding even as Trofin slid forward, causing a section of the edge to break loose. The man then showed he was a very good pilot as he crouched and hopped down, landing with a loud metal on rock clang, but remained standing. Neil looked back, “Can’t you let the others go so I can help them down?”

From below Trofin spoke up, “Do as he asks, it’s a good idea and we don’t want any of them getting injured. From here on, they will slow us down as is.”

Neil helped the first girl down, lowering her by her hands until her feet were on the left hand of the frame. “When you let go of me, kneel and grab onto the hands you are standing on. He can then lower you to the ground. Don’t try to climb down. If you get a hand around the edge of the armor and it has any kind of combat damage it could slice it open!”

Neil then grabbed the girl’s hands and whispered, “If you want to make it out of here in one piece, I need all of you to know my real name is Neil and my nickname is Finn.” Getting a nod of understanding, he held on and lowered her onto the hands of Trofin’s frame.

Neil helped the other three, passing on the same message while also reminding each to let the man in the frame lower them. He then hopped down onto the frame hands, knelt and let himself be lowered down. While he moved clear of the hole in the ceiling, the other frames jumped down, followed by the men who were not in frames.

Neil looked up, then over at Trofin, “Sergeant, how did you get frames up there?”

The big corporal secured two of the other kids again and, shot Neil a smirk, “We have two Artillery class frames. They combined to lift us up high enough to where we could grab onto the lip and pull ourselves up. It was a real bitch at first since we kept breaking off the edge of the passage, and it took us over an hour, but we finally all got up. Happy I don’t have to do that shit again, let me tell you!”

Neil couldn’t help but snicker at the man’s expression. “Kind of sounds like fun to me!”

The big guy snorted, “I’m thinking I could get to like you kid.”

The sergeant nodded at this even as he activated the left shoulder mounted spotlight on his Bandit frame. He motioned for the other two in frames to do the same and then gave everyone’s eyes time to adjust since there was no light at all in the tunnel they were now in and only a dim glow from above.

Neil looked around with a cringe. There were support beams and a single metal track in the floor with a massive heavy chain in it. While Neil didn’t know exactly what it was, he guessed it was some kind of a looped chain that, when activated, a cart or some kind of mining car could hook onto and be pulled either into or out of the deeper part of the mine. However, the rust on everything along with some of the grooving being bent, told him it probably hadn’t been used in quite some time. The biggest problem was this lower mine was not in the Brave Humanities plans of the mining camp or the surrounding area. He guessed the hostage rescue guys who helped them plan the whole attack on the camp didn’t even know about it.

On the other hand, getting out into a much more stable shaft was a huge relief. The problem was, without the spotlights on the frames, the whole thing would be pitch black and Neil instantly knew it. He glanced back as the others all turned their heads to looking in the direction of the spotlights. “Stick close, guys. If you get separated you’re screwed. The only light we got is from the frames!”

Trofin stopped to make sure everyone had adjusted to the spotlight illuminated old mine, then spoke up, “Kids, we’re going to let you walk on your own from here. As your buddy just noted, you really don’t have much choice but to stick with us at this point. Let me just say for the record, if you get separated, there is little to no chance of finding your way out or even survival. It’s now in your best interests to stick with us and stay in our lights, so you don’t trip or hurt yourselves. The passage we are going to take is safe, but a few of the offshoots are not, so stray at your own risk. You fall down a shaft because you got curious and poked your head into an offshoot passage, we are not going to go after you.”

Trofin then had hydration packets passed out to the kids and let everyone take a short break. The next hour was spent staying in the lights of the three Bandit frames and moving at a jog just to keep up with the frames. Neil took note of over a score of offshoot passages, only five of which were as finished as the one he was walking in, but all five had the center track in the floor with the chain, so he knew if he tried to flee, finding his way out would be all but impossible since there was no main track or passage he could do by feel. Adding to the confusion of not knowing what the way out was, Trofin didn’t stay in the passage they had emerged into. Instead, the man took a few turns, sticking in the larger passages with tracks, but when and how he turned made no sense to Neil. Two of the turns were left, one was to the right, and two more to the left. If anything, the way Neil’s mind worked, his best guess is they had kind of walked in a square and should be in the same passage they started out in, but there was just enough differences in offshoot passages to override this gut feeling. Even worse, Neil could see no markings to guide by even if he had a light source. It took a while, but finally he guessed the man had downloaded a map of the old mine into his frame and was going off of it.

Just in case he could figure out a way to escape, Neil took note of a few landmarks of sorts, such as a wide section between three converging large passages with an old control terminal against one wall. Wires sticking out of it make it clear it had been scavenged for parts long ago. Another large cutout section held the skeletons of two huge mining cars, but like the track and the control panel they had been stripped of anything usable long ago and were badly rusted. The final thing of note was a side cutout section with benches and rock cut right out of the floor. A bank of long ago forgotten vending machines were on the back wall. In the far back of the area was a metal door with the faint outline of a cross still noticeable on it. Rust around the door made it clear it had not been opened in a very long time, which made Neil wish he could go explore it.

Directly behind him, Trofin must have noticed Neil’s sudden interest, so he slowed up and panned his spotlight over the abandoned break area, “Kind of interesting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Neil admitted. “Why was it abandoned?”

“Not real sure. All I know is this mine was owned by Anson Mining and was drilled out on the south side of the ridgeline from where Iron Horn’s complex is now. The entrance was blocked from a rockslide above, but Anson said they cleared it enough to park equipment inside. Anson provided us blueprints to this mine as part of the contract we signed with them to stop Iron Horn production. It kind of sounds like it is a long running feud between the two companies or something.”

“So you are a merc unit?”

“We just became one, yes.”

“So hitting the… our camp, it is a contract?”

“Sure is.” Trofin held up a hand signaling for everyone to take a break and even pointed over to the benches. “Let’s give them another hydration pack and each drink one ourselves. We still have about twenty minutes of hard walking and the kids are wearing out on us.”

Even as the others let the other kids take a break, Trofin gave Neil a light push over to one of the tables and motioned for him to sit. “This whole attack on your camp is really just a huge trail of bad luck cumulating on a pile of our misfortune.”

Neil looked up, putting on what he hoped was a confused expression, “Bad luck? Seems like most of the bad luck is ours, not yours!”

“No, it really is mostly ours.” Trofin snorted with a bemused grin. “I can see where you are coming from, but like it or not, you all just got caught up in a giant mess.” Seeing the boy cock his head to the side in curiosity, Trofin shrugged and decided to explain. “You see, we aren’t even from this alliance, let alone this system. Even getting here was not by choice. You see, we signed an on the fly contract as we made our way to this moon and Anson Mining helped us get AIM certified and got us this contract.”

“If you just became a merc unit, what were you before?”

“Good question,” Trofin admitted. “Most of us are from the planet Quaker VII, just into FPA space. About half of us were planetary military attached to AIM on Quaker VII. Five other framers are, were, out on training maneuvers with some infantry and armor and are members of the Quaker VII military. The other two are former AIM office employees. While we are about half armor and infantry, we only hit you with frames. Lieutenant Keychev sent a couple of framers and everyone else to make sure Anson came through on equipment promised us as part of the contract and never entered your camp.” Seeing Neil about to ask more questions Trofin held up the arm and hand of his frame. “Relax, I’ll give you the whole story. We have time since I want you all to get your breath back.”

He waited for Neil to nod, and noted a couple of the others had turned to listen as well, so he spoke up a little louder. “We were in a system war. It was between us on Quaker VII and our neighboring planet Quaker VI. The unit I was with was responsible for finding and hiring merc units to help us, Quaker VII.”

This really piqued Neil’s interest, but he couldn’t let on how much he knew about Quaker VII, so he stared at the door to what had to have been a medical station for a few seconds as he formulated a question to get answers he wanted without showing how much he knew. At the same time, he didn’t want one of the others to accidently, or even on purpose, let out he was not really from the mining camp. “If you are from some other world, why are you here?”

Trofin lifted his head unit’s face shield and took a long drink out of a hydration packet before responding. “To be honest, Quaker VII lost the war. However, no one messes with AIM. Because we were directly attached to the Quaker VII AIM offices, Quaker VI’s government decided to let us go with the rest of the Quaker VII AIM staff. We were offered transport off world with the rest of the AIM office staff. They let us take equipment, so we grabbed everything out of a small training station being guarded by the group out on a training patrol. Since our lieutenant’s boy was part of the training patrol, we told those from Quaker VI all of the framers, infantry, and armor were also attached to us. They didn’t seem to care and never checked.

“So we grabbed all the equipment out of the training camp and took the offered transport off world. We were told at the time, the craft we were getting transport on wasn’t going to let the Planetary Landing Craft we were docking with leave the system. Instead, everyone on it would be arrested and they would give us all the ships and belongings on the PLC, plus a ticket out of system to wherever we wanted to go, as long as we helped them do a full search of the whole ship so no one could sneak out of the Quaker system. It was a really good deal, so we took the offer.

“Something went badly wrong almost from the start, though. The PLC wasn’t stopped. Instead it hooked up to the Space Fold Craft. The Quaker VI guys didn’t expect this, so they sabotaged the PLC. By doing so, they somehow damaged the SFC and caused it to miss-fold. We ended way outside of the normal fold zone, but still inside your system in a all but dead ship. The PLC was so badly damaged much of it decompressed killing several hundred, to several thousand as it did so. We really don’t know how many were aboard, let alone the numbers of living and dead, but from what we heard, it was a packed ship and whole sections of several decks got exposed to space just before or during the miss-fold.

“During the whole thing we were stuck in the lower hold of the large shuttle we took up to the PLC with our gear. It was really cramped, and there was only one waste station and sonic shower for all of us. It was far from ideal, and we had no way of knowing exactly what was going on until the shuttle crew told us to brace hours after the miss-fold. It turned out there was at least one other armed ship docked in the PLC’s hanger, so a firefight between the shuttle and another craft happened inside the bay area of the PLC we had docked in.

“We made it out into deep space, but once there we found out the larger upper bay of the shuttle we were in had Quaker VI micro fighters on board. Those who provided transport seemed desperate to stop anyone from getting out of the PLC, so they let the fighters loose to try to destroy what was left of the PLC. The releasing of the fighters, combined with the damage done to the shuttle meant we ended up low on air and had to make it to the first habitable world, which happened to be this moon. We all heard over the radio the micro fighters were destroyed and never got to finish off the PLC. The back and forth between the fighters and the shuttle we were on also made us realize those we had hitched a ride with had done some horrible crimes, so we wanted out.

“If we hadn’t been attached to AIM, I bet they would have killed us, but we were and we had actual AIM staff with us. This probably saved our lives. The ship’s crew gave us some radio time and we worked out this contract. At first it didn’t look good, but the two AIM staff from Quaker VII stepped in and smoothed things out just enough. The agreement was if we could get a valid contract they would give us merc status. Anson Mining picked us up as soon as this was posted on the merc board down on New Brunswick. We signed up for a raid on your outpost and got certification at the same time.

“The shuttle set down close to your mining camp so we could carry out the raid. In exchange we were supposed to help them get enough to repair the life support. The Quaker VI force gave us some of the hostages they had left, in exchange for us allowing them to join in on the raid. The Quaker VI group hit the main mine so they could take the main air filtration system while we drew most of the fire. From my understanding, some of the parts from your filtration system could be used to fix the air system on the ship. All I know is the air was getting real thin in the hours before we set down on this moon.

“Anyway, the contract we got was to stop production and gave us full salvage and a promise of enough merc equipment to make us a viable unit. Just over half of us jumped in our two platforms stuffed to the gills with equipment we grabbed out of the training station back on Quaker VII along with the captives given to us. They went around to where Anson told us supplies and extra combat equipment would be waiting. Those of us in frames moved on your camp, used stun grenades on your security team, and with the help of the Quaker VI group, we captured your frames. We then took out as many of the outer buildings as we could. We figured between what was being done to the main mine and the destruction of the buildings we would accomplish our mission.

“As I mentioned, we also had a full salvage clause, meaning anything we could take we could keep. This is why we stuck around so long and took all your valuables, easy to carry gear, and stuck your frames in the one oar hauler we managed to snag. Even though we couldn’t get them started, there are people who can and they are worth hard cash. And cash is something we are desperately short on. I have no idea how the Quaker VI guys got the six they took up and running, because your security chief took a pounding from them but never gave up the override codes. I guess it’s possible he didn’t have one. I don’t know. But whatever. We grabbed as much equipment as we could, tucked it all in the ore hauler, and were starting to look for company assets. We were hoping to find a safe or pay cash box, but no luck. Just so you all know, this is why taking those of you in the camp was and is fair game for us. You are part of the camp, plain and simple.”

Trofin let out a sigh, “Unfortunately, we simply took too long and were hit by a much larger force hired by an unknown and OK’ed by the system government before we could get packed up and get clear. I guess, from what Anson Mining was able to find out, the government didn’t realize we were on a legit contract or just didn’t care. Making matters worse for us, the sabotage of the SFC is considered an act of space piracy, a high crime almost anywhere in the galaxy. Because we came off the same ship as those who did the crimes, we were lumped in with them. In the eyes of New Brunswick, we became nothing more than attached to those who destroyed the Wagon and the SFC. We were all earmarked as criminals. Anson Mining got this smoothed out with AIM, at least we think they did, but the force attacking us isn’t an AIM force or something. At this point AIM is saying we won’t get any help unless we are taken to trial. Me, I really don’t want to roll those dice. I have my doubts on those attacking us letting us live long enough to find out who is whom.

“The other problem we have is we have no idea who this attacking force is, but AIM has tossed up its hands saying it was contracted outside of AIM and has no information on who was hired or by whom. The New Brunswick government authorized the mission against us, but according to Anson Mining, they aren’t the ones paying for it and it is a massive force with fighters, infantry, armor, frames, and even frame dropper ships. To hire a force of the size sent against us must run in the tens of millions of AIM credits, maybe even as much as a hundred million. It’s flatly overkill.

“Anson Mining wasn’t willing to anger whoever is backing this assault, so all they did for us is send AIM a request for them to become intermediaries, but this will only happen if the other side agrees. Since they are not an AIM licensed unit, there is no telling if they will accept any intervention from AIM.

“While this whole thing is as bad for it gets for a merc unit, especially a brand new one with zero reputation, there is one smidge of silver lining for us. Anson Mining warned us we were about to be hit. Because we had something akin to a decent warning, we pulled most of you all back to the main building, so we had a defensible location with hostages. While we did so, I worked out this escape route with an Anson Mining rep. The problem was, we had no idea we would be facing at least a battalion of super well-armed and funded mercs. If we had, we would have packed up and left.

“Our commander, Lieutenant Keychev, was hoping it was going to be a small force and we would take them out and get salvage. I protested it then, but she overruled me. Once she realized what we were facing, which happened as soon as we saw the frame droppers and fighters, she then had us take out most of the buildings and stuck the junior framers out to fight the attack. At the same time, she ordered the core group to take all the miners we could find, along with any mining equipment in the main camp, so we could finish the escape tunnel to here…. But, honestly, we had no clue it was going to be such a massive assault. From what I heard over the radio, it took the Quaker VI guys off-guard, too. They pulled most of the workers into the mine so they had hostages but lost contact with them within minutes of the attack.

“We tried to keep control of the camp itself since we were making the passage. The attack on the central area hit us so stupidly hard we didn’t have any real choice but to retreat to the central buildings. As you know, most of the hostages escaped and we barely held on to the administration building. Lieutenant Keychev executed the one guy to stop the attack, giving us needed time to break through to this old mine.”

Trofin reached out and carefully patted Neil on the shoulder, “I know it seems harsh, but a cease of production can, and sometimes does, include the elimination of company assets… including employees. Most often this is done to execs, and he was one of them. I know it doesn’t seem right, but it makes what she did technically contracted legal, because this is lawless moon. However, I want you all to know many of us still don’t like it and we know AIM will not look kindly on it either. This is especially true since he was restrained and should have been seen by us as a hostage.

“But like it or not, here we are… here you are… We had a basic equipment package clause in our contract, but it was never spelled out. I think I speak for all of us when I say we are kind of surprised to find Anson Mining parked decent replacement equipment, including frames and ground transport, just inside the mouth of this old mine for us. For now… Well as soon as your buddies all catch their breaths, we will walk about another twenty minutes to get to what they left us.

“I guess destruction of your camp was worth more to them than we expected or they had this equipment stored and figured it wasn’t doing them any good. Whatever the situation, the equipment they left for us is enough to make us a viable merc unit for hire. All we want is to get off this moon, down to New Brunswick and get a fresh start somewhere, anywhere, else. For better or worse, you five are part of this mess. We are hoping to hand you all over to those attacking us in exchange for letting us leave system. If we don’t need to do so, we’ll ransom you off to a mining camp and you can have family pay to get you back or work it off in an indentured status. One way or the other, we don’t want to hurt any of you. You now know everything I do.”

Trofin then motioned for everyone to stand so they could get moving again. But suddenly reached out and grabbed Neil’s shoulder and spun him around so he was looking back into the boy’s eyes. He held up the combat knife he had pulled off of Neil and asked a question of his own. “Since I gave you our history, and let you know we really have no plans of hurting you or your buddies, there is something I want to know. How about you tell me where this came from and what you were planning on doing with it?” The tone told everyone listening, an answer was expected.

Neil looked at the blade and back up to Trofin debating on what he should and shouldn’t say. Finding out he was dealing with a mercenary unit carrying out a contract changed the way he looked at the whole situation, however. He found himself not looking at a murdering scumball, but a fellow merc, with a super bad commander, stuck in a really bad spot. The only reason he didn’t just instantly tell him who he was and what was going on, was he still had doubts as to who did what aboard the Wagon. There was no way he was going to aid anyone who helped kill so many of his class members and families. However, the whole thing made a great deal of sense. This was doubly true if AIM certified them, because there was no way AIM would certify a pirate group implicated in taking out an SFC and PLC the way they had been.

After a few seconds he settled for an in-between muddied half-truth, “To be honest, it’s mine as is the holdout dart pistol I have strapped to my ankle and tucked in my sock.”

Trofin motioned for the man who had climbed out of the badly damaged Riot frame to come over. “Borya, check him from head to toe, but be nice unless he gives you any problems…”

Neil sighed and held up his hands, “I won’t. Just so you know, I got a stiletto in my jacket pocket, too. They’re all mine.”

“Was yours.” The big man stated while securing the two other weapons. He then gave Neil a very thorough head to toe and toe to head pat down. When he was finished he pushed Neil back toward Trofin while he looked over the holdout pistol. With a shake of his head and a raised an eyebrow, he held it up, “Military grade with a five-dart clip, Sergeant.”

Trofin gave a single nod, then focused back on Neil, “Why do you have it, and more importantly, what were you planning on doing with this military grade hardware?”

“Honestly, I saw the way you all took breaks, stepping out for a smoke or water break while keeping the back hatch open and the frame powered up. I was thinking about trying to stab one of you in the neck with the blade, then steal your frame when you stepped out for a break when you were close to me or something. I figured I would tranq dart the rest of you, since I’ve seen one of those darts drop a New Bravarian Jungle Wolf in under three seconds.”

Even though Trofin was inside a frame, the shock of hearing what was just said to him, combined with the frankness of how it was said, caused his head to jerk and him to take a step back, “Reallllllly…” The voice was full of skepticism, but also held a note of caution. “And what makes you think you could do either one?”

Neil shrugged, “Lily and I are new here. We both lived in a merc unit from birth. We have been playing with knives since we were old enough to hold one right and blade fighting classes were required since we could carry them almost everywhere and our unit went to some pretty sketchy worlds. So cutting a throat… well it wouldn’t be the first time for me, or even the second.

“As far as grabbing one of your frames, well, again I was, am, a merc. Not only did I get fully trained in cargo frames, I got some real frame time in the unit. I also took a trio of semesters at a military frame school. So did Lily. Neither of us graduated because the contract ended and our unit was all but broke, so we had to try our luck somewhere else.

“By the time we got to this system, the money or lack of it, was bad enough to where we jumped at the offer of a paid job as long as the security guys helped us get our full frame certs. We signed on as ore sorters and security apprentices for this mine while our folks stayed on the planet to scrape together enough to get our unit up and running and find a decent contract. They left for a stop-gap three-month contract somewhere, while we stayed behind. We were supposed to test next month to get full Frame Combat Certs…” Neil tossed up his hands, “So here we are.”

“Merc brats…” Trofin glanced over at the other framers with him, “Your girlfriend really did know how to fix the frame then?”

“Both of us do. We both have Frame Repair Certs. Hers is a standard, mine is advanced.”

“But the knee was totally stuck and she didn’t have repair parts,” Trofin countered.

“Come on, really?” Neil let out a humor-filled snort, “It is a stupid hydraulic rod. If you can’t fix that…” He paused as he noticed the man’s eyes harden, “Um, Sergeant, don’t get me wrong, it’s cool you want to be a merc, but you need to figure this out real soon if you want to survive and make decent money. Fixing things and making things work with what is around is one of the biggest parts of being a merc. Battlefield salvage and field repair is the difference between making it or failing. Both me and Lily learned how to make basic hydraulic repairs by the time we became double digits, and a blown gasket is about as simple as it gets.”

Trofin stared at Neil for several seconds before letting out a long breath, “OK, I’ll admit, we have some learning to do, but… Forget it… So you’re telling me she knows how to pilot too?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s really good. She has Basic Certs in, laser, indirect, and standard ballistic and just missed gyro. I’ve got the same as her, plus heavy ballistic. Also, like me, she also has Full Certs in piloting and physical combat, but not Combat Certs yet. The security chief told us to give him one more month…” Neil hug his head in mock disappointment.

The big man eyed Neil, “Sounds like they are pretty good, Sergeant.”

One of the other kids spoke up, surprising Neil, “Oh, they are. Both of ’em play with the mining exoskeleton and are better than most of the miners in this camp.”

Trofin took another step back from Neil and spoke into his radio, “Lieutenant, this is urgent.”

He tapped his helm, “This is Sergeant Trofin Polzin. Anyone with the lieutenant, respond.”

“Way too much rock between us and them,” Neil responded with a smirk. “Besides, I am sure it’s already too late.”

Trofin frowned deeply, “So you think your friend sabotaged the frame?”

“No. Steal it, yes. Take out those you left behind… Oh, yeah. Damage it, not unless she took some combat damage taking out the other frames.”

Trofin’s eyes showed some panic even as he tried to counter Neil’s words. “It’s got lockout…”

“It does… did… But I’m sure it was easy for Lily to con your commander to activate it so she could test it, or make some other excuse. One way or the other, by now she will have herself a frame and I really don’t think anyone you have would have been able to react fast enough to stop her. I mean look at the way you treated us. None of you really took us seriously and she knows exactly what she is doing. Since it sure looked like none of you really knew what you were doing with repair, it is simply a matter of coming up with some reason to need the frame up and running.”

Neil snickered despite the look of anger and fear written on Trofin’s face. “You know, for a merc unit, you all are real light on repair skills and your lieutenant was desperate to get the Aggressor up and running. If she thought giving Lily access would make it happen, she would do it. I’m sure Lily dangled the bait, your commander swallowed it, and Lily hooked herself a fish and now has a pretty decent Aggressor.”

The big corporal pulled up his handheld, tried it, and shook his head. With a deep scowl, he stared at Neil, “We are used to repair crews doing the maintenance and upkeep, but still, we know the basics and Sophia knows enough to where she will spot an obvious deception. Your girlfriend will get herself pummeled if she tries.”

“Maybe,” Neil shrugged, “but if whoever Sophia is really knew what to do, she would have fixed the hydraulics already. I could see, even from where we were being held, it was a stuck rod and the armor had hydraulic fluid on it. This means the unit ruptured a gasket. If you all couldn’t spot it, then Lily can run circles around all of you combined. So if it was me, I’d fiddle around with it to make it look like I wasn’t real sure. Then I’d pretend to realize I suddenly found the problem. Once I pulled off a makeshift repair, probably by scavenging parts from one of the damaged frames, I’d show I got it jury rigged and climb back in to reconnect it. Once in there, I’d pretend to need power and movement so I could make a final connection or not hook the hydraulics right the first time and say there is a problem and I need full power to see what is wrong. From there it would just a matter of muttering and complaining about getting the bolt back into place until the others back off enough to give enough time to jump in properly and close the back hatch.”

Trofin looked back at one of the other Bandit frames, “Nonna, go back and warn them!”

Neil couldn’t help but roll his eyes even as the Bandit frame turned and ran back in the direction they had come, “Telling you, it’s a waste of your time. Besides, how are you going to climb up there without a boost?”

Seeing Pavel turn and eye Trofin, Neil chuckled.

Trofin spun and glared at Neil and even clenched the fist of his frame but instead of throwing a punch which may have seriously injured or even killed the boy in front of him, he took a step back. “You’re a cocky little bastard. But you’re not even old enough to shave and your little friend is even younger, or at least looks like it. Even if she managed to get in and take control, she’s just a kid and there are two or even three other frames in there with her.”

“Yeah,” Neil stated with a shrug. “But, come on Sergeant. All of you saw both of us as NCs, kid NCs no less. Lily will be in the best of what you have and the others had very poor loadouts for close combat. The Aggressor is the only one you have with carbon fists and it has two standard lasers, one on each arm. If she gets power on, she’ll take control and move on the other two frames since one is damaged and the other is only a Garrison with a shoulder mounted laser, a hip mounted sonic rifle, and the other shoulder has a stunner. Bringing shoulder and hip weapons to bear on a target less than twenty meters is hard, and I can guarantee you Lily will make your commander’s frame dance. The arms on the Garrison each have a machinegun, but those are hard to fire with a bent arm at a close in frame, lasers, aren’t. Even if someone jumps in the Riot, she will have the edge on firepower, maneuverability, and surprise. Besides, like I said, she will have made sure to scavenge parts from one of those other frames, making it all but unusable. If it was me I would take out the damaged one or ones first, since they would be easy kills, then face off against the last Garrison. Lily has a clear armor advantage over it, too.”

Realizing he had the adults speechless he decided to press on, “Also keep in mind it will be close quarters, so she will throw a kick or punch, in an attempt to knock one of the other frames down. If she does, the fight will only take a few seconds to a minute at most. A solid punch from an Aggressor on a Riot or Garrison could breach arm or leg armor, especially since the Aggressor has carbon fists.”

The big guy looked down at Neil with a scowl, “You’re pretty damned sure of yourself.”

Pavel spoke up, “He has the loadouts on the frames right, Corporal. If he can do it by sight, then he knows more than I do. I can’t ID exact weapons on frames by looks alone unless I get up and study them.”

“I grew up fixing and playing with them… So did Lily.”

The corporal ran his hand down his face, “OK, you say you have certs, even basic ones. So you are in the AIM database, right?”

“Yeah. From three days after I turned ten.”

“Where’s your AIM ID.”

“Back in my room with the rest of my stuff including my Hunter Limited Mark IX laser rifle. Oh, and my Blade Frame is parked in the old pantry along with Lily’s.”

Concern grew and could be heard in Trofin’s voice, “You own frames?”

“Yeah, well, they are only Blades. Our unit keeps them when they capture them for us kids. We then have to repair them, but they aren’t ours till we get our combat certs. They still belong to our unit until then. The security chief has… um had… the paperwork showing they were supposed to transferred to us once we got combat certified.”

“OK, Finn, what is your last name, so I can do a basic check when I can get a hold of AIM?”

“His name isn’t Finn, it’s what we call him.” Sekrena, the girl Neil first lowered to Trofin, spoke up.

“Oh?”

“His name is Neil,” Wiles, the older of the two boys, chimed in. “He normally wears his hair up and pushed up into a fin shape, so we started calling him Finn. It was meant to annoy him, but he liked it and now uses it all the time. Same with Lily. Her hat and those dumb flowers, but like Finn, she stuck with it.”

“So what is your full name, Neil?”

“Neil Lockley.”

“OK, Mr. Lockley, if you really have an AIM ID, you know your number. What is it?”

Neil couldn’t help but grin deviously, “I REALLY don’t think you want to know.”

The massive corporal made a snarling sound as he moved up on Neil, “Out with it, kid.”

“OK, but I’m not asking for any kind of special treatment for it.”

“Special treatment?” Pavel asked. “What, you have an A.I.M. in it somewhere?”

“No. I go one better.” Neil took a deep breath and stood tall as he spoke, “Neil Lockley, AIM ID number BH-CMBT-NB07-NXK7.”

The jaws of every adult dropped as Neil spoke his ID number. The other kids, noting this, all exchanged glances before Sekrena spoke up, “OK, Finn, what are we missing, here?”

Trofin gulped and stared at Neil while asking a nervous question, “BH? Your ID really starts with BH-CMBT?”

At this Neil’s smile grew as did the gleam in his eyes, “Yes, it sure does.” He then spoke his number again, “BH-CMBT-NB07-NXK7.”

“Holy crap,” The large corporal muttered even as he stepped forward and handed Neil the switchblade and tranq pistol back. He pushed both into the boy’s hands, took a step back and held up both hands, “You were right, those are yours.”

Neil took the offered gear back with a skeptical lift of an eyebrow.

Wiles spoke up again, “I don’t get it…”

“Unless you are a merc, have fought mercs, or have worked with AIM, you wouldn’t kid…” Trofin stated even as he nodded for Neil to keep the equipment. He then tossed the sheathed combat blade back as well. “How in the hell did you get a Blood’s Honor combat AIM ID Number?”

“Fought side by side with some of their cadets on New Bravaria. General Scott, Blood’s Honor Second Army Commander, talked to AIM and they let Blood’s Honor pay to get us new ID numbers. While we didn’t attend BHJMA, we are listed as having our Basic Frame Certs with them. Feel free to check when you can contact the system AIM offices.”

The younger of the two boys, Kylem, looked over with something akin to hero worship in his eyes, “You’ve seen a Blood’s Honor unit in combat?”

“A full frame force of them dropped on us while we were fighting EC on New Bravaria, so I actually fought with them. Even got a confirmed kill on a EC Trailblazer. Oh, and yes, everything is listed with AIM, as is my BH NB Combat Ribbon, and my BH Combat Kill Platform Gunnery Patch. Colonel Price said since we fought with their cadets out of a Schwarzkopf, we were part of BH for the engagement. My parents have been talking to them about a scholarship or something they recently offered, so I may be able to go through BHJMA for all my final graduation certs, too.”

“Son of a…” Trofin shook his head. “And your girlfriend?”

“Valerie, oh, I know her number, too. It’s BH-CMBT-NB07-NXK19.”

The corporal smacked his head, “Both of you?”

“Same engagement. Hers didn’t go active until she turned ten though. We have a couple of others who weren’t ten, back then, either. They got the numbers but they didn’t go active in AIM until their tenth birthdays.”

“AIM does the same thing to junior cadets from all major academies.” Trofin stated. “It allows for tracking of training records and easier transfers since many high tier schools give junior cadet completion diplomas but don’t let some continue on as full cadets. Many of those are picked up by second tier academies. When I went through the Quaker VII academy, we had quite a few transfers come in from the elite FPA academies. From what I heard, most came from very rich families who wanted a decent name attached to their kid’s graduation papers so they could continue on in their home planet militaries with some kind of real rank. Quaker VII had a rep as a very good second tier academy, it was borderline tier one. I also heard there was a huge transfer fee involved.”

Neil found it hard not to roll his eyes at hearing Q-VII-AoME was considered good, so he looked away and spoke in the direction of the rusted door. “Lily may have a shot at BHJMA too, but she doesn’t have a Kill Ribbon… Although, I suspect she will before the day is over. It just won’t have red and black edges on it.” He then made a snorting sound, “But it may come with a cluster and even better a Aggressor.”

Pavel shook his head, “No way will anyone let her keep it…”

“If she takes it and has Basic Certs combined with an active AIM ID number, then she did so being a member of AIM during an AIM contracted raid. AIM will give it to her as a combat capture, Private.” Borya informed the younger pilot.

Trofin agreed, “As long as she is current in AIM, she has every right to claim salvage during any assault she fights in, even if not one of the original combatants. Happens all the time. The real question is, what are you expecting Neil?”

“Me?” Neil looked over with some confusion, “Nothing. Um, well, I am hoping you will not kill us, but otherwise, I’m a combat capture. Not really sure why you gave me the weapons back, though.”

Borya spoke, “Because no one in their right mind would claim a Blood’s Honor AIM number unless you really have one. And since you are Blood’s Honor, even if by way of AIM ID only, you will be given the treatment having said number rates. While I am willing to piss off most of this universe, no way in hell am I sticking a middle finger in Blood’s Honor’s face by trying to ransom you.”

Trofin pointed over at the corporal, “What he said. I worked for AIM and know Blood’s Honor does not pay ransom. They attempt rescue, and facing a BH rescue team is pretty much on the very top of a long list of things I want nothing to do with.”

Neil looked around at the mercs with some confusion even as he put the blade on his belt and re-secured the tranq pistol to his ankle. “OK, so now what?”

“Actually….” Trofin shot the boy a smirk, “I have an idea you may want to seriously consider.”

“Um…” Neil felt his heart speed up as he guessed where this was going. “I’m listening.”

“As soon as we verify your ID, and no, I am not saying you are lying, but I still need to verify… Um, I’d like to offer you a slot with us for a bit. You have some skills we are lacking, especially with an Advanced Frame Repair Cert. And while none of us like it or want to admit it, you know as much, if not more than we do about being a merc. While we hired mercs on Quaker VII they weren’t treated well or respected. Everything we know about being a merc comes from working at the AIM central office.

“Corporal Afonin was a frame training NCO with Quaker VII and could see how close you are to getting Combat Certs. It sounds like you are real close, if not already there, so he can make sure you pass first time around. Also this is a dirt poor system where enlistment can happen at age fifteen, fourteen with a waiver. On this moon it’s a year younger for both, but enlistment here is to starport security. Kids as young as eleven can sign up for New Brunswick militia training and be on reserve status during raids. From what I read, most do it to get listed as a member of AIM for free and be allowed to have a medium weapons permit so they can hunt, while also being eligible for salvage should they get raided, but the why doesn’t matter. What does, is adding you to our unit in this system will be way easier than it would in wealthier or more controlled systems.”

Neil played with the handle of the combat knife for a few seconds. This wasn’t at all what he expected or wanted, however… he could also see some advantages to it. If he agreed, he could find out a great deal more about what these people knew. Maybe he could even find out if they heard or saw something about what happened to Jessie’s brother. It also sounded like they had three Q VII cadets. He had to try to help them as well. The real problem would be how to contact and convince Major O’Connell and his own dad without those he was with finding out more about him.

Neil mulled it over for a few more seconds, then looked up with an idea, “How about you use your frame to bust the door open, so I can check it out while I think it over?”

Borya Afonin couldn’t help but snicker, “You have been eyeing that door ever since we took a break. It is just eating at you, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, yeah. Real bad.”

Trofin chuckled, even as he pointed over to Pavel, “Private, let’s give the boy we are trying to recruit an incentive. Get it open for him.”

Pavel shrugged, “No problem by me, I’m just as curious as he is.” Pavel moved up to the door and used the power of his frame to force the old metal hatch open. It did so with a loud screech of protest of metal over the stone floor, causing some sparks and those not in frames to cringe at the sound.

Pavel then directed his spotlight into the chamber beyond.

Neil ducked under the arm of the Bandit frame and moved in. It was pretty much what he expected to find, an old, very old, aid station. Most of the equipment was covered in plastic sheets so old, they cracked as soon as he touched them. Five minutes later he slid back out and sat down at the table by Trofin, “Bummer, not much there.”

The man smiled at the disappointment written on Neil’s face, “OK, so what about my offer, assuming you are correct and I don’t have a CO anymore…”

“Three things…”

“OK, shoot.”

“If you don’t need my friends here and can’t get ransom directly from a parent or Iron Horn, you let them go. The same for any miners you have left. I bet you have one of their moms or dads. I don’t want any of them to be indentured to some other mine up here. There is no telling how they may be treated.”

“Two?”

“So you agree?”

“Not until I hear all three, but I think your first one is a reasonable request. If any of those four have repair experience or want to learn we may conscript them and get them AIM IDs, though. Also, we do have three cadets from Quaker VII who are about your age, and those are not part of any negotiation. They are worth hard cash. AIM may even be willing to give us a few thousand for each and tack a fee on the Quaker System for their return.”

“OK,” Neil clenched his fist under the table. He would have to find a way to help them. Quaker VI tried to kill everyone on the Wagon, and most were cadets. There was no way he could let them get shipped back to a planet under Q VI control. But just as importantly, he needed to figure out a way to let them know they couldn’t let on they knew him. Since they were frame cadets and close to his age, all of them would know him. All the Q VII cadets knew all the merc kids, since trying to drive the mercs out had been pretty much universal.

The only way he could see to do it was to get help from one of the kids he was negotiating over. He looked over at the other kids and gave them a thumbs up. Seeing all of them were listening and getting nods out of all four, he turned back to Trofin. “Second, I need to talk to AIM without you listening. I need to know you were not part of killing a bunch of people on a PLC. I also want to leave a message with AIM for my dad, telling him what happened and where I am. I really don’t want you hearing what I have to say to him, either.”

“You promise me you are not going to tell him to hunt us down or some such nonsense?”

“Yes, as long as you really aren’t space pirates, I promise. If you are going to get me full Combat Certs, and am fighting with you, there is no reason to want you to fail. Besides, since I am doing this without his permission and the permission of his CO, they are not going to be happy with me. I need to send a message to smooth things over, so I have a ass to sit down on when I do get back to them.”

This got laughter out of most of the adults. Between laughs, Trofin managed to speak, “You could tell him you were conscripted by us.”

“No,” Neil shook his head fiercely, “then they would come after you as soon as they found the money to do so. My dad will be pissed at me, but OK with you over me signing on given the fact you hit us in an AIM contracted raid. But the only way to prevent him coming after you will be to let him know you didn’t steal me and let him know I will pass him notes through AIM every couple of weeks. I also want it clear with both you and Dad, I am not going sign on permanently with you. This is a short-term stint, right?”

“For now, six months, give or take a month. What about number three?”

Spending six months with these guys was about seven too many, but Neil figured he could deal with it. If nothing else his AIM dossier would have him listed with time as a full merc and he would also have some kind of rank in the listing as well. However, there was no way he was willing to be nothing but a frame tech. “I want a frame of my own, as in to keep and I want time out in combat, not just in a repair bay.”

Trofin blinked several times as if he hadn’t heard Neil correctly. Finally after nearly five seconds of silence, he barked, “You want us to give you a frame for a six month contract?”

“Yeah, I do, and I want whatever standard pay is for whatever rank you give me, and it better be more than private. From what I’ve seen and am hearing, I’m the best tech you have. Plus, thanks to you all, I lost my Blade. I bet those taking the camp will claim it. It was all I really had…”

Pavel spoke up, “Sergeant, I say we need him… Besides, even if the lieutenant makes it out with all the others we have some spare Bandits.”

Neil noticeably cringed, “I am at the very lower end in size for those and they don’t have SAT…”

“We can come up with fit pads for you until we can get you in a frame with Size Adjustment Tech.” Trofin stated. “It’s the best we can do.”

Corporal Afonin glanced over, “I’m with Pavel. If the kid can fix a frame we need him. However, you could hand him the Striker, Sergeant.”

Hearing this, Neil’s eyes went up, “There is one I don’t need SAT to fit into.”

“It runs, but needs work,” Corporal Afonin warned.

“Work is an understatement,” Pavel grumbled. “Revamp would be much closer to the truth. Not even sure why the lieutenant made us take it.”

“Because it had a full overhaul kit with it and she figured we would know what to do with it,” Trofin remarked. “Maybe Sophia, but…”

“Only Sophia at this point, and it sure sounds like Neil here is certain his girlfriend isn’t going to let any of them out,” Corporal Afonin interjected. “We may not have her anymore. Besides, she didn’t look like she was real sure she could handle the refit.”

Neil didn’t look in the slightest bit concerned by what he was hearing, “I got my Blade repaired on my own, and running was not something you could say about it. If your Striker runs, and you really have a full overhaul kit for it, I can finish patching it up even the worst problems in a few days.”

“Then it’s all yours unless my lieutenant says otherwise. But even if you are wrong, and she is alive, she knows we need techs and if giving you a frame we can do nothing with gets us one, even for a few months, then I can make her buy in. Come on, let’s move out.”

Neil looked over to the four kids, “Sergeant, can’t I at least walk and talk with the others while we get to where we are going? It’s not like any of them are going anywhere.”

Corporal Afonin gave an underhanded wave-like gesture, “You keep them in line and moving, otherwise…”

“I get it and so do they. Just keep the pace where it has been or a little slower. You can move way faster in a frame than we can and the younger two are still tired.”

Getting a nod from Trofin, Neil all but took charge of the other mining kids. This gave him a chance to quietly tell them he was going to keep them from being ransomed to anyone but Iron Horn or parents, but in exchange he needed their help. He was surprised to find all four were totally receptive, and eleven-year-old Kylem was willing to do just about anything for someone who knew and fought with Blood’s Honor. All the kid wanted in return was to hear about the fight. The others were only too happy to listen as well, so all things considered, getting to know the four kids went really well.

Seven hours later, Neil glanced over from his spot in the front passenger seat of the second mining platform being driven by Pavel. He was dressed in a fresh jumpsuit, had been given a combat pack, web gear, a medium pistol, an assault rifle and wore specialist rank. Even better, he got to pick out a set of the new hiking boots, so he was no longer in boots a full size too small for him. However, even Neil had to admit, hiking boots didn’t go with the jumpsuits and there was nothing even slightly military about the footwear.

Sergeant Polzin made it clear keeping the gear was all contingent on him actually having the AIM ID number and certs. Neil wasn’t even slightly concerned. His AIM listing was up to date and paid for. All the double digits in the Grenadiers were kept current. Grenadiers may not get paid on time when money was sort, but AIM membership dues were always paid. The whole situation was quite humorous to him in some ways since he now outranked the older guy driving. Pavel was one rank down, a senior private. He was also equal or above the rank of several others in the group. The problem was there was little else good about the whole situation.

The mine opening and even the ridgeline it was in had long ago disappeared from sight. This meant the chances of Brave Humanities or the Grenadiers finding him were dimming with each passing moment. There were forty-nine remaining members of the fledging merc unit and they were scattered across all four merc owned vehicles and the one ore platform they took from Iron Horn. The vast majority of them were very low ranking and only had the basics of combat training and certifications. Because Quaker VII had been getting hammered, they started recruiting teens with less and less desire to serve, offering incentives for them to do so. At the same time, they needed combatants out in the field, so they started shoving people through training faster and faster. This meant those in the planetary military were beyond green and most of the new members didn’t have but the most basic of training. Many were sixteen to nineteen years old with six weeks of basic skills and another four to six in infantry or armor. Many didn’t look even fully comfortable when Trofin passed out assault rifles to them.

The training camp even held a quartet of senior cadets, who had been very close to graduating the academy. Neil had seen them around, but since they were older and in the senior academy side, they didn’t know him. The problem was there were three cadets from their own academy and none of the four fifteen-year-olds were speaking up for them. Neil guessed part of this was because the younger kids were frame cadets, thus considered more elite, but the attitudes of the four older cadets didn’t sit well with Neil at all. In addition to all of these obvious problems, there was one person who clearly hated him. It was the woman who had almost been taken out by Valerie. She really did want to strangle Neil.

The young woman had emerged from the mine a basket case with her frame badly marred, but none of the armor had breached. The woman related what had happened and informed everyone she was sure she was the only merc survivor. She went on to say the little girl had stolen the Aggressor and killed off all the others from the unit. The young Quaker VII frame pilot went on to say she managed to detonate the charges planted to seal them in and it would take days for survivors to get out of the basement, even with help from above. For Neil, this meant he was pretty much stuck with becoming a member of this group. He figured it was unlikely Valerie would be able to get word out to Major O’Connell or the Brave Humanities people before he was signed up and probably off the moon.

One thing was very clear, the woman who escaped Valerie’s trap was beyond pissed off at both Valerie and by extension, Neil. To ease some of the tension, Trofin made Neil repair the damage to the Garrison, then checked it. Neil really didn’t see a single reason for the man to be impressed, since it was nothing but armor repair, but the guy was. The truth of the matter was simply this. Neil didn’t give this group one or two hard combats before they folded from lack of working combat gear, given the level of tech experience they had.

The small convoy of five vehicles angled toward a distant beacon marking the location of the Grey Sands mining installation. Neil looked into the back passenger area where a medic was working on a kid only a couple of years older than himself. The boy looked almost exactly like the lieutenant, but was in real bad shape. Neil guessed the kid’s frame shoulder had breached and shrapnel had ripped into him. The leg injury probably came from a bad fall after taking such a serious hit. He didn’t give the teen much of a chance. On the other hand, while the group he was with couldn’t fix a frame hard point connecter, and about half couldn’t change out a bad ammo feeder, they did have a couple of decent medics. One was an actual AIM medic, the other Trofin’s team medic. This combined with the full medic kit, gave the kid a chance.

Across from the wounded teen, the four kids from the mining station sat on the small bunks and played a game of cards while the three kids from Quaker VII Academy of Military Excellence slept. Each cadet was secured to a bunk by an ankle or wrist with a set of shock restraints. On the plus side, the shock had been deactivated and the kids had been given a choice of what they wanted secured. Two decided on an ankle while the other settled on her right wrist.

Neil knew all three. One had been in his frame force and two of the others in Robin’s. All three showed initial shock at seeing Neil, but had been quickly and quietly warned by the Iron Horn mining station kids not to say anything. While they looked skeptical and angry, they were also exhausted from being forced to lug rocks by hand for almost two days without sleep and were extremely hungry. As soon as Neil made it a point to get them food and water, and convinced Trofin to let them get a sonic shower, all three looked thankful and stayed quiet. He still needed to find a way to talk with them without anyone else hearing. Problem was, he had no idea how he could pull it off. He would just have to wait for the right opening and hope all three stayed silent about him until he could.

Neil couldn’t help but wonder how the younger kids, the two older teens, and the seventeen miners were doing in the passenger compartment of the other modified ore hauler. It had to be a tight fit, and the miners had been worked to the point of dropping from exhaustion and smelled real bad. From what Neil heard, they first cut a path down to the old mine, then were forced to clear out more of the debris so the vehicles could get deep enough into the mine shaft to stay hidden from overhead aircraft patrols.

Neil really didn’t like the way the cadets or the miners had been treated, but at least they were alive. Well, he corrected himself, one had died, but it had been an accident. Even the three Quaker VII cadets said it happened as they miners broke through to the old mine and the guy fell on the combo laser pulse-jackhammer he had been using. Of all the ways Neil had seen or heard of people dying, this one ranked right up there with being lava bombed or torn apart by rippers.

One somewhat good thing to come out of the whole thing was two of the miners had their younger kids with them, since the lieutenant had ordered extra kids taken before Valerie killed the wench. He sure hoped the Garrison pilot was correct about Valerie being trapped, not crushed. He knew if he found out the woman had killed Val, he would find a way to gut her.

On the other hand, understanding the charges had been placed to trap everyone in the basement to give the escape route more time to get mined if needed made sense. Because it sounded like Val was alive, hearing the Garrison frame pilot tell her side of the fight with Valerie, actually gave Neil a great deal of pleasure. The way he called the whole thing almost spot on. The only real question was how Valerie was taking it. He bet she was a scared to death of what would happen when Robin and Luna got to her. One thing was certain. He would have to leave Luna and Robin messages at the AIM office to back off, since he knew both would be beyond pissed at her for letting the final frame escape and cut off his rescue.

The other thing bothering him was just how large of a group this was. Most of the remaining makeshift merc unit were armor or infantry from Quaker VII. The armor side seemed to be better organized under Senior Sergeant Chloe LaRose, one of the few who were not native to Quaker VII. Under her leadership, the infantry and armor personnel who had been at the small training camp had stuffed everything they could into the massive tracked supply transport while they actually road in the troop transport hovercraft. Both vehicles were high end, and the hovercraft was actually a Brave Humanities Viking. It was a craft meant to transport seventy-five soldiers, with full combat loads and three days of supplies, long distances. The lower hold of the shuttle had to have been really crammed for both vehicles to fit. This also meant Brave Humanities had badly underestimated what was behind hitting the Iron Horn Camp.

Neil had to cut Brave Humanities some slack, however. Neither of the vehicles had been used in the actual raid, and had, instead, moved around to the back of the ridge to procure the supplies they had been promised. This meant the Brave Humanities stealth bots never saw them. However, it did show Neil why Major O’Connell never put full faith behind high tech solutions. Human ground teams would have certainly picked up on the frame tracks and would have led them back to where the framers had jumped out of the back of the tracked vehicle. This in turn would have let them know of the massive hovercraft, since the fans would have flattened the brush and shrubbery, and probably left a trail. Spy bots in the camp were great, but they had missed a huge part of the larger situation. It was a lesson Neil was certain would stick with him for the rest of his life.

With a long sigh, Neil looked back out the window and up. He kept hoping to see a glow of a fighter engine, shuttle or other spacecraft, but the skies were dark and heavy with clouds. Neil resigned himself to Brave Humanities not finding him in time. For now, for better or worse, he was stuck in another merc unit.

Pavel looked over, “You look jumpy.”

“I am,” Neil freely admitted, then followed it up with a half-truth. “If those who hit you spot us, they may attack first and ask questions later. If they do, we have hundreds of liters of petro-chem hanging off of both sides. I reallllllllllly don’t want to know what it feels like to be in an oven.”

Pavel nodded in agreement, “Me neither. But there is nothing more we can do.”

“Aren’t you worried about being spotted?”

“Yeah, I have the same concerns, but while you may be a budding tech I am a trained scout and I am looking at this through the eye of a scout. At 45 kilometers per hour, every minute and a third we get another kilometer away. Also, from what we understand, merc escorted ore convoys like this are pretty common on this moon. This means, even if we are spotted, they will think we are just one of them. I’m betting we’re good.

“But Master Sergeant Polzin is making sure we are keeping the turrets manned and about a third of those with us are armor jocks, so they know what they are doing in these beasts. Also, we are now almost 250 kilometers from the cave and there are heavy winds with intermittent rain. Weather will cover our tracks and we are only about ten hours out from Grey Sands. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Neil didn’t really mean it as he responded with, “I sure hope so.”

Pavel reached over and patted Neil’s shoulder not realizing his definition of fine and Neil’s were far from the same.

Valerie did nothing for several minutes, while those in the basement with her coughed from the smoke and dust generated by the short fight, the emergency red smoke pack, and the detonation of the explosive charges. Truth be told, most cried and coughed. As the dust finally settled, Valerie moved over to the clogged passage and tried to move a few rocks with her frame. This only caused more rocks to fall from above, so she backed off. She tried the same with the debris on the steps only to find the exact same thing.

She took a knee and once again tried the radio. It was no use. With a shake of her head, she looked back at the room with the hostages. “Um, sorry, guys…” She then forced a tight smile, “There wouldn’t happen to be a miner down here, would there?”

One of the men stood, brushed off a layer of dust, and moved up to the collapsed section going up the steps. “This is a mining camp, was a mining camp, and yeah there are a few of us still down here. Most of the young ones were shanghaied to dig down to Hades, but they left us old timers here.”

He took a long look, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Mel, we best get them O2 tanks bleeding us a little air in here and kill all the electrical. We’ll go on battery light. We don’t want no sparks with pure oxygen being let out.”

Another man coughed and spit out some dirt-colored junk even as he moved over to a set of tanks on a dolly and opened the valve of one just enough to get a slight disturbance of the dust. He then looked over, “What’s it looking like George?”

“We’re totally plugged and the elevator is down here all crunched to snot. Our best bet is going to be the stairs, but we got support issues on the walls.”

A third man moved to where the dugout passage was caved in. “No clue where they dug themselves out of this direction, be we ain’t going this way boys. Looks like it’s the steps ‘er nothing.”

He then moved up to the woman pinned under the frame and kicked what he could see of her, “Shut the hell up. You did this to yerself!”

Valerie moved over to the knocked over Riot and got ready to lift it, but was stopped by one of the women, “Young’an, you lift and she’ll started bleeding bad. Be dead in minutes.” The woman took out a penlight and panned it under the frame while speaking. “Right now the way her leg is pinched in there is like a tourniquet. We need a passage up before you lift the hunk of killing machine off her.”

“What if I lift it off so you can tie a tourniquet on above where it’s cut into her leg?”

“Hun, you did good to save our butts and a big heart to be concerned about a woman who did you no favors. But I’m telling you, if you move this before we are ready to get her into expert hands, you’ll kill her. We don’t know what else may be wrong under this here machine, but at the moment, I ain’t seeing any heavy bleeding. As long as there is some kind of medical up there waiting, we can probably save her if you just leave her be and let us do what we can. We’ll get her some water and before long the pain in the leg will simply stop. The leg’s a gonner, at this point. Nothing anyone can do about it.”

George moved back over, took one look, and nodded. “Gladys is right, young lady. Now leave her be, and since you are obviously trained to pilot the beast you are in, get your little behind over and give us a hand. We got lots of digging to do and, you young one, get to do the heavy lifting.”

Valerie nodded even as she glanced at the collapsed tunnel, “So you don’t know where they came from?”

“Nope.” Mel responded, “Nothing down there we knew about. All I can say is they dug for almost two and a half days and filled up the freeze shelter below us with all the rock they pulled out. Piss poor job and unsafe as all get-out to boot. Bet they made three hundred to four hundred meters a day based on the rock, so I am betting wherever they went is about a kilometer, maybe a smidge more. They worked them poor men to the bone. There be eighteen good men down there somewhere.”

Luna watched the building rumble, then partially crumble downward. She rushed toward it but was ordered to stop by Command Sergeant Black of Brave Humanities. “Kids, back off! Those were demolition charges! That whole building is about to come down!” Seconds later, the west wall buckled a bit more and the whole thing collapsed in a huge pile of debris.

Command Sergeant Black watched the dust settle even as he moved up to make sure none of the kids tried to move closer. As soon as he was sure the kids had control of themselves, he radioed up to the ”White Tiger”, “Commander, we have a situation!”

Even as dark clouds swirled overhead and huge nasty brown drops of rain fell on the camp, Robin stood at the perimeter safe zone established by Brave Humanities engineers. It had taken only a few hours for cranes to be sent down to help, but they were really designed to work on spacecraft, not remove tons of building materials. It took almost three hours for crews to get them assembled and another two before the first loads were taken out of the edge of the remnants of the building. The progress was agonizingly slow. After each scoop, a crew moved in, with sensors and checked to make sure nothing had shifted the wrong direction.

For about the fifteenth time, Robin spoke into his frame’s radio, “Anything?”

The man in command of the rescue effort responded with growing aggravation in his voice, “Son, as soon as I know anything I will let you know. Seismic sensors tell us there is a large pocket down there, so we think there is a good chance we will find survivors, but everything over the pocket is too unstable for us to even laser drill down and send in a microphone.”

Major O’Connell moved up to Robin in his Command frame, “You didn’t get much rest, son. Take some downtime.”

“I can’t! I let Neil and Val go in there!”

“And I sent Senior Private Denwob out on the hull to look for leaks a few days ago, and he got shredded by debris. It was a command decision I have to live with. No matter what happens, Robin, this is one you now have to shoulder. It is part of being in command of a merc unit.”

“But he is… they are…”

“They are like a brother and sister to you, I know. Being in a small unit makes combat harder because you know everyone and you also know some will not come back. It is something I hoped you would not have to learn for a while, but here we are. However, there is still a chance…”

Robin pointed at what was left of the upper levels of the building while fighting back sobs, “How?”

Before Major O’Connell could respond, the main rescue channel came to life, “Hold the crane! I hear movement from below on the seismic sensor array!”

Major O’Connell had to hold Robin back, “Robin, stop. This is one of those time where you can’t do anything but get in the way and could screw something up if you get too close! The last thing you want to do is cause something to shift the wrong way.”

Robin gritted his teeth and stared at his frame’s radio display, willing it to give him more information.

Seconds later the lead engineer spoke up, “Commander Bennett, I have enough movement from below to get a reading from underneath. There is someone down there alive and in something big enough for me to get micro tremors. I need a laser drill to give me a hole I will mark the target area with a red laser, but it will have to be done from the air. We can’t get to the spot from our current location and we sure as hell can’t land on the location to put a team on the ground.”

“I’ll find someone who can make you a hole,” Commander Bennett responded. “Keep target marked.”

An hour and twenty minutes later a heavy VTOL circled the area a couple of times before taking position over the red dot. The bottom opened up and a pulse laser started firing. The craft pilot had to stop firing a dozen times as heavy winds pushed it off target, but the pilot was undaunted. Time and time again, the pulse laser activated until, after nearly ninety minutes, the seismic tech radioed the laser got through.

A long weighted line was then lowered into the four centimeter diameter hole.

Everyone watching held their breath as Commander Bennett’s voice came over the radio, “Iron Horn survivors, this is Brave Humanities rescue team. Can you hear me?”

Moment later Valerie’s voice came through the antenna part of the wire, “Oh, hell yeah! Brave Humanities, we hear you!”

Commander Bennett let out a long breath, “How many are left down there with you?”

“Twenty-eight. Um, twenty-nine if you include the woman under the Riot frame, oh, thirty, I’m down here too!”

“How are you doing?”

“OK, I guess. We cleared the stairs up to what Mel and George, um, they are miners, ma’am. Um anyway, Mel and George both say we are about nine meters from the main floor, but we have a huge chunk of rock blocking us. It goes all the way across to what they say is the north wall. We were just starting to dig around it and have everyone else under it since they figure it is probably the southwest support beam and is preventing this whole place from coming down on us.”

The lead engineer spoke up, “Young lady, I need you to tell them all to stop what they are doing. We may work against each other and cause something to shift in a way we don’t want it to. Instead of digging, I need you to tap hard on the support, but don’t do anything to crack or weaken it. You have anything you can pound on it with so we can get a full seismic map of it and what is around it?”

“I’m in an Aggressor frame, so yeah.” Valerie responded.

“Great! Don’t punch at it but give whatever is blocking you nice even hard slaps.”

Command Sergeant Black moved over to the major and Robin, “She managed to take one of the Aggressor frames?”

Robin nervously nodded, “Sure sounds like it.” However he couldn’t stand it any longer, “Val, it’s Robin. What about Neil?”

“Ah, yeah…” Valerie answered with a great deal of fear, “About that…”

Luna jumped into the conversation from her radio, “Val, is he… is he OK?”

Valerie continued to smack the large stone beam as she responded, “I sure hope so.”

“Hope so?” Robin and Luna both spoke at the same time.

“Uh huh, I was kind of hoping you all found him by now.”

Major O’Connell cut everyone off as he joined in, “Val, are you saying he isn’t down there with you?”

“No… no sir, he… um, we separated… He was taken by some of the others like fifteen, maybe twenty hours ago. It was just before I fixed and stole their lieutenant’s frame and finished off one of their Garrisons. The last Garrison shot charges I didn’t know they had planted and then the building came down… um, trapping us in here. But, um, some of the others took Neil and some others out before this all came down on us. Mel is telling me to let you know the charges were placed to do exactly what they did, block us in. I’m pretty sure they were set up to give them extra time to escape if needed.”

“Taken? Escape?” Command Sergeant Black shook his head, “No way, we had this place covered like a blanket. There is no way out.”

“A blanket only covers things up, it doesn’t spot something going on under it,” Valerie fired back. “They took him down, not up.”

“Down?” Major O’Connell turned to look at Command Sergeant Black, “What is below them?”

“Nothing… I mean the plans show an emergency shelter in case something goes wrong during the time the moon gets no sun, but… No… We checked the main mine. Even if they go to it, the entrance is caved in and I have a team watching it. No way they dug to it! Besides, there is nowhere to put rock…”

“Oh, they dug a tunnel. I almost got to it. But it was like an hour after they took Neil.”

“How?” Command Sergeant Black demanded to know.

“How? They did it with pulse laser jack hammer combo units just like the one we have been chipping away with down here.”

“No, not how they did it.” Command Sergeant Black stated with a gesture showing his aggravation, but keeping his voice neutral. “I mean how did they mine when there was nowhere to put the rock?”

“Oh, well you didn’t ask that!” Valerie complained. “Um, Mel says they pulled out enough rock to all but fill the lower shelter. But who cares how they did it or where they put the rock, they have Neil!” Valerie stated with a great deal of worry in her voice.

“Val,” Major O’Connell interrupted, “I gather you can’t get to the passage they took him down at this point?”

“No, no way, sir. The last Garrison took out the passage they made. The wench brought it down to stop me from finishing her off. I almost got caught in the collapse when it came down. All I can tell you is it went out the back wall of the main pantry area right next to the passage going down to the emergency shelter and was just big enough for frames to go down it. From everything I heard, both from the miners and those holding us speaking Russian, it went down, not up.”

Valerie’s voice changed suddenly, “Oh, hold up a sec. I put this on speaker and George wants to say something.” Valerie’s voice came back over the radio after nearly a minute. “Sir, I don’t know if this helps, but George says the time it took, how big the passage was, like just barely big enough for a frame, and how much rock they pulled and put in to the basement thingy, it should be right at a kilometer long.”

Major O’Connell glanced over to Command Sergeant Black, “You all miss something?”

“We must have, but I have no idea what or how! I’m sending all this up to my team. Maybe they can find something.”

“Best we can do at the moment,” Major O’Connell grumbled, then turned his focus back on the immediate problem. “Val, hold tight. We’ll get you out of there. Then we will figure out where they took Neil!”

“I got nowhere to go, sir, but Major?”

“Yeah, Val?”

“Sir, this was an AIM contract and the group who hit the camp said they were with Q VII assigned to AIM offices to find mercs to help Q VII. I really don’t think they were part of the miss-fold, sir.”

“That doesn’t fly!” Robin snarled with growing anger. “We took out Q VI pukes up here!”

“Robin, I know you are pissed at me, but I’m telling you it wasn’t what we thought! The guys down here were, are, mercs. They even said they had to get help to get an AIM unit designation so they could take this contract. And, yes, there were Q VI butt-wipes here, but they went after the mine, not the camp.”

“But we fought some of them in the camp!”

“No, no we didn’t Robin!” Valerie countered. “We fought a group of Q VII framers who were out on some training patrol when Q VII tossed in the towel. If you took any alive, check… Um, for that matter if you have any dead, you can check them too… They all have Q VII Military Ident chips. The commander I killed said it was one of the first things they were going to get removed once they were certain they were AIM certified. Those Dante was fighting; they were the Q VI pukes.”

“So they joined with Q VI!” Luna shouted, “They need to die like the dogs they are!”

“Luna, I don’t think so…”

“What you should have done is thought about sticking with Neil!” Luna interrupted.

“Luna, knock it off!” Major O’Connell stated unequivocally. “Right now we should just be thankful Val is alive and Neil probably is as well. It could be way worse!” He then took a deep breath to compose himself. “Val, what makes you think they didn’t just join up with Q VI?”

“Major, I wish I was better in Russian, but I heard enough to know they were scared they would be lumped in with the Q VI butt-wipes. Um, maybe this will help… Like I said, I know they were attached to the AIM office on Q VII, and they had some of the AIM staff with them, but unless I totally misheard them, they mentioned being stuck in the bottom hold of what turned out to be an Earth Core combat transport. It had to be the shuttle Kay shot down. One of the women said something like them barely making it here alive. I think it was because the Q VI people shut all life support off to the lower hold they were in, and they almost suffocated or almost froze. Whatever happened, it had to do with atmosphere in the lower bay. Since Kay shot it down, maybe you can check the computer and the lower hold and junk.”

“Real good thinking!” Command Sergeant Black stated. “I will get a team over to it and see what we can find!”

He then glanced over at Major O’Connell, “The difference in combat tactics and the fact there were more killed by the those who took the mine makes some sense now. It was two different groups. It also explains why those up in the mine were really only concerned with the air exchange and were making the miners pull it apart and take it to the transport. They were planning on a patchwork job to the life support system.”

Another voice came over the radio, “Val, it’s Captain Tanner, you said you think they were with AIM on Q VII. Did you happen to get any names?”

“Yes, sir. The lieutenant I killed was a Lieutenant Keychev. The guy who took Neil was a sergeant but it sounded like was also the XO, they all called him Sergeant Tolzin or something real close to Tolzin. Mostly they stuck to first names. His first name is Trofin. I think he was higher than just sergeant, too, since he was clearly second in command and there was one guy and one lady both being called sergeant. He was over them, for sure. They were even less formal about rank than the Grenadiers are outside of combat, sir.”

Captain Tanner let out a long breath, “It’s who we signed our contract with Major. Senior Lieutenant Faina Keychev was the one who made the offer from Q VII, and it was witnessed by Master Sergeant Trofin Polzin. Both were Q VII Planetary Defense assigned to AIM HQ on Q VII.”

“Damn-it! If this was a legit raid, we just stepped on the dick of another Merc unit!” Major O’Connell snarled, “Captain, get AIM on the horn and see what you can find out!”

“Already on it, sir!”

“Major?” Valerie spoke again.

“Go, Val.”

“Um, I know I am in all sorts of trouble with everyone, but it really was Neil’s idea.”

“Young lady, all I really care about right now is getting you safely out. In the meantime what else can you tell us?”

“Not much, sir,” Valerie admitted. “Neil wanted to go with them to see if they heard anything on Jessie’s brother or the others. But he also wanted to pull as many away from me as possible. You see, Lieutenant Kaychev’s Aggressor had a stuck knee rod and, well, believe it or not they didn’t know how to fix it. It was Neil’s idea for me to stay behind, fix the frame for them, and steal it while I did so. I did, but the last Garrison down here shot the charges before I could take it down…”

“That’s my girl!” Major O’Connell stated with clear praise in his voice. “You did great, and you have yourself a backup frame to do whatever you want with. So what else can you tell us about those who took Neil?”

“Again, not much, sir. It kind of sounded like those who took him know or knew where some of the Q VII academy kids were, but, um, like I said, my Russian is still real bad. For the most part they talked too fast, so I only got bits. But if you have medical teams ready, I kind of knocked over a Riot onto one of them. Her leg is mangled and pinned, but she is still alive. Before she passed out on us again a couple of hours ago, she told one of the women down here, she was or is with AIM. She may know something more.”

Captain Tanner jumped back into the conversation, “Val, we badly need her. Until they can get down to you, do whatever you can to keep her alive.”

“A couple of the women have been doing what they can. They are giving her drips of water and keeping a wet cloth over her head. I wanted to pull the frame off her, but they stopped me.”

“It was a good call,” Captain Tanner responded. “Don’t move her. Once we have all of you out, getting her out alive is going to be a huge priority.”

Captain Tanner then spoke firmly and clearly, “Grenadier Double-D’s, I hear any of you give Val any crap over this or losing Neil, you will be seeing me… And you will not like it.”

“But…”

“Luna,” Major O’Connell stated with a threatening voice, “don’t you dare.”

“Yes sir.” Luna stated with a great deal of trepidation.

“Same for you, Robin,” Maj. O’Connell ordered, “and for the sake of ever Double D in this outfit, you best make sure everyone else knows this is a line in the sand for us. Val and Neil both did great. Without them we wouldn’t have any of this intel. Right now we focus on getting Val out, then we figure out what happened to Neil.”

Neil was nudged awake by Corporal Afonin right at the sixteen hour mark of the trip. “Almost there kid. Get yourself put together so Trofin can take you to the AIM office for verification.”

Neil wiped at his eyes, yawned and glanced over, “Geesh, when did you take over driving?”

“About six hours ago,” Afonin chuckled. “You didn’t even stir.”

“I was tired, sorry. Um, any food?”

“We’ll get some grub when we get to Grey Sands. If you’re thirsty grab a hydration pack.”

Neil glanced back noting Pavel was sound asleep on one of the bunks. Both medics were also crashed out on cots while the injured teen frame pilot was hooked up to monitors. Neil bet they would give an alarm if his condition changed. At the same time, all seven of the kids were awake and talking among each other very softly. Seeing them stop and stare when they noticed him looking their way, he stood, stretched and pulled out a handful of hydration packs from a box.

Neil looked at the oldest boy from the Iron Horn mine, “Wiles, when’s the last time the cadets were allowed to take a leak or get a drink?”

The boy from Neil’s cadet force, Antone, spoke up, “When they switched drivers. Even let us stretch our legs. None of the seven of us have gotten anything since…” hearing the big corporal give a warning snarl, he lowered his voice and changed subjects quickly, “Wiles and Sekrena told us you got a Blood’s Honor AIM number. They’re kidding, right?”

Neil shot Antone a smirk even as he tossed all seven kids hydration packs, “Nope. As soon as I get a new card issued, I’ll prove it to you.”

Vadim, one of the team leaders from Robin’s cadet force, looked over with bewilderment, “I bet if you show your AIM number, you would get a scholarship to any academy. We don’t likes mercs back home, but we’d open our arms up to any kid with a Blood’s Honor AIM number!”

Neil gave the boy a shrug, while also giving him the slightest of nods since it was clear the three from Q VII were letting him know they were going to cover for him, at least for now, “I’d prefer to earn my way in and any rank I get.”

Lucya, a female private from Robin’s force rubbed where the shock restraint was around her wrist. “Makes sense, but you should have at least gotten a scholarship or something. Why go work on this moon?”

“Mercs, real ones, don’t take handouts, and our commander would have beaten us silly if we got in any military academy without earning it. Besides, I’d prefer to get made fun of and never get rank, then get something handed to me just because I have a BH-CMBT AIM number.”

Seeing Lucya wince as if slapped, he backed off some, “But I guess if I ever go back to a academy I could wear the BH Combat Ribbons and Patch. Those I did earn. It might let others know I really am not some sack of merc crap.”

“The last thing you are is a sack of crap, Finn.” Antone responded. “If we would have been nicer and given more credit to merc units and their kids of the kind it sounds like you came from we would still have control of Quaker VII.”

Neil really wanted to say something snide, but fought and won an internal battle not to. Instead, he gave another slight shrug. “Not your fault. You were cadets. Sounds like the real problem was with your planetary government and maybe even your academy cadre. From what I’ve seen, it pretty much starts and ends there with every world I have been to. Good ones support the mercs they hire, bad ones don’t.” He paused as he noticed a glow of man-made lights over the next hill. This told him, the Grey Sands station was a big place, but he was not at all ready for what appeared below as they crested the last hill. As soon as the modified ore hauler allowed him to see down into the valley, he let out a slight gasp, “Holy crap! It’s a freaking city!”

Sekrena, the older of the two girls from Iron Horn spoke up, covering for Neil, “You haven’t been here long enough to get company leave, Finn. This is where you would have gone.”

The older boy, Wiles, quickly joined in as he realized Neil almost screwed up and let the adults know he wasn’t really stationed at Iron Horn. “You came in a supply shuttle, so you and Lily didn’t process through here. The rest of us did. About eighty percent of the ore on this moon gets moved out through the spaceport here.”

The younger girl, Coryn, spoke up, “It’s where we spend the money we make. You can get anything here.”

“Yeah, but be careful.” Wiles warned. “It’s a mean nasty place and there are areas my old man wouldn’t let us go, as in like most of the station. There are… is a community outside the station too, down toward the river, but Dad wouldn’t even take me for a drive through it. He made me stick to the main streets, shops, and the spaceport. All those places have security and station patrols. Many of the others have little to none. Iron Horn had so many miners mugged, they started sending security. I heard you were slated to go on the next leave cycle in your Blade, so you could test or whatever. There was talk if you passed you would be one of the escorts almost every time, since the security team always called it babysitting duty.”

“Like I would be taken seriously, even if I carried a sidearm.”

“Finn, security goes in frames.” Sekrena snickered.

“Oh, wow! Must be a real brutal place then!”

Wiles nodded, “Worse, Finn. Most of the mining companies send framers to Grey Sands to protect people and ore. Ore isn’t even considered safe until it gets into the starport, although I have only heard rumors of ore haulers disappearing. But it’s enough for Iron Horn to send a full five-man frame squad with each ore convoy. Once the ore gets into the processing station, it’s measured, purity tested, and is sold on the auction floor. Most of it ends up going to other systems. Last time I was here, I got to see an auction. It’s pretty wild. There are hundreds of companies bidding on each load. Ours was picked up by Sultan Seas out of some world called Jagged Edge.”

“Been there,” Neil stated. “But it’s a moon not a planet. It orbits a gas giant in the Korth System in the Galactic Rim on the edge of inhabited space. The moon is the only place where there is close to one point zero gravity.”

“So why build anything in the system?” Coryn asked.

“It has one of the Alien Fold Gates and is the main trade hub for the GR. The moon is lifeless, but it really is the only place in the whole system to put in a trade hub. The GR carved a huge trade base out of the side of a massive crater with the largest airlocks I have ever seen. Arrivals fly into them, you land, the doors close, then internal doors open, and you are pulled into the next deeper bay. This is done not once, or twice, but three times so there is no chance of air loss. If you ever go, head up to the observation decks. There is a five GR credit fee, but totally worth it. It lets you look out over the gas giant or down into the crater. The crater is hundreds of feet deep and when the light hits it just right, you can see the bottom. There are thousands of rocky spikes jutting upward, many of them crystalline, so the sun hitting them causes them to prism the light.”

“Oh, wow! What were you doing there?” the younger boy asked with wide eyes, clearly hoping for another story out of Neil.

“Sorry, Kylem, nothing really to tell on this one.” Neil stated with a grin. “The GR hires merc units to protect water shipments sent to Jagged Edge. Water is akin to gold there, and the GR is like the armpit of the universe. Wanted criminals, bandits, pirates, and every other kind of sleaze-ball tries to escape to the GR and beyond into semi-habited space. A couple of late water shipments sends the whole moon into water rationing, so a hijacking of a water transport simply can’t be allowed to happen. The whole GR trade surrounding its only AFG would be put at risk. As it is, drinking water goes for more than four GR credits per liter and buying drinks in a restaurant is more expensive than the rest of the meal. Refills are at full price too. I heard those who live there get a ration amount and no one there takes a water shower. It’s all sonic.”

“While it is not the kind of contract we liked, it paid good and it was only dangerous for a couple weeks out of the eleven we were on the contract. It allowed us to do serious repairs and gave us some needed downtime.”

“So why not take more contracts from them?” Corporal Afonin asked.

“They don’t use the same mercs over and over again. They are afraid a unit may learn patterns and try to steal a shipment or two. As it is, we only got the gig because Blood’s Honor recommended us for a run. It was what we did right after we almost got wiped out on New Bravaria. The pay was enough to repair our PLC and restock food, water and ammo. Actually, we went out there with a full water load on our PLC and came back almost dry. Our commander sold like eighty percent of what we had in our tanks. I don’t know how much was made, but it got my dad a big enough bonus to buy a brand new Blade refurbish kit and a new head unit, which was the only thing I couldn’t fix. It was just too badly smashed in.”

“Man,” Kylem spoke softly, “it must be awesome to be a merc and see so many places. Not only have you seen Blood’s Honor, you’ve seen an Alien Fold Gate!”

Neil looked back with a smile, “The one in the Korth system was number four for me.”

This even got the attention of one of the kids from the Quaker VII academy. Vadim spoke up, “We looked down on mercs back home, but… wow maybe being a merc isn’t as bad as the cadre made it sound! I mean, four? You’ve really seen four of them?”

“Yeah, and going through them is way better than a sliding through a rip created by a fold ship. Not only is it smooth, the colors inside the rip are super clear and bright. It’s like being inside a bunch of twisting and swirling rainbows.”

Corporal Afonin glanced over at Neil, “I heard the same thing from one of my buddies. He said it was about the greatest thing he ever saw, almost like looking at God.”

“I’ve seen it seven times, in four gates, and it never gets old. Holo-recorder images just don’t do it justice.”

Before more could be said, the radio crackled, “Q Sabers, this is AIM Command, Grey Sands. We have your squawkers and are now tracking you. If you are in military vehicles, please change beacon mark to GSAIM1 and stick to the north side of the wall until you see our gates. Welcome to Grey Sands.”

“Q Sabers?” Neil asked with a scrunched-up nose. “What kind of merc name is Q Sabers?”

Borya typed in the new beacon and angled to follow the lead ore hauler, “It was what Anson Mining put on the paperwork. I guess the Q is short for Quaker or something. Like it or not we are stuck with it, cause a name change for even a small merc unit like ours runs a quarter of a mil, to half a million in AIM credits. The only way to get a free name designation change is if two similar units combine and become much larger. If it messes with overall ownership because of it, then they may grant an exception, or even require one.”

Pavel yawned then joined in the conversation. “AIM name changes are stupid expensive. One of the units that left Quaker VII just before we lost was force sized and paid two point eight million for a name change.”

“Holy crap!” Neil whistled. “I guess I’m a Q Saber then.”

“Soon will be, yes.” Borya snickered.

Neil took a seat, knowing what was going to come next. The five vehicles pulled up to a heavily fortified wall with the letters A.I.M. over the archway of the main gate. AIM personnel came out and took control of the pilot and gunnery positions on the military vehicles and moved them into an inspection area.

Since this was only five vehicles, it took the inspection team only fifteen minutes to clear the vehicles, locking down all ammo storage as they did so. The AIM people then let everyone out into the main compound while the vehicles were parked in a massive motor pool area. The size of the parking area, combined with how many vehicles were in it, told Neil AIM Grey Sands was a very busy place. While he had been in some bigger AIM stations, this one was certainly in the top ten of the more than fifty he had seen.

Each person then had to go through scanners. Those with weapons handed them over and got a wrist band marking what they had turned in. The three cadets in restraints, along with the miners were taken to a side area and put in holding. Neil had never seen a holding area, but had heard AIM provided nothing for captives other than a cell with a waste station. Any food, showers, or medical could be paid for by the captors, however.

When the prisoner guard asked, Trofin let out a sigh, “What will one meal, a shower, clothing wash, and a cot cost me?”

“Twenty credits each, plus five extra each twelve hours for the cot beyond the first twelve.”

Seeing the man start to shake his head, Neil moved over, “Come on, Master Sergeant. At least let the cadets get a shower and clean clothes. They only got sonic showers and had to put on their dirty clothes. They stink!”

Trofin glared at Neil for a second before pulling out sixty AIM credits from his pocket. “Alright, let’s get them three in the Quaker VII cadet uniforms cleaned, fed and give them a bed.” He then peeled off another eighty. “Those four as well.” He pointed to the four he had selected when he grabbed Neil.

The guard moved up to each of those Trofin pointed to, put a wrist band on them and typed in some information on a handheld scanner. As this happened, two of the three Quaker cadets gave Neil a slight, but clear nod of appreciation. Neil tucked his hand into his side and gave them a quick thumbs up while the guard gestured to the rest of the captives, “What about the others.”

“Holding only. I’m hoping Iron Horn will want them back badly enough to pay some kind of ransom, if they do I will be releasing them soon.”

“Fine. If I can put all of them in one large cell, it’s a hundred, then a credit an hour each, first three free. Let us know. Anyone held over twenty-four hours gets a meal, five credits each. If those younger kids are less than ten years of age, they get one meal every twelve hours, same cost. A bottle of water will be given at no extra charge every six hours.”

Trofin eyed the other captives and pulled out another two hundred and fifty, “Get the rest of them all meals, one cell is fine. They all came from the same mining camp.”

The guard nodded and quickly had four other guards move up and give all the captives wristbands. He then separated the seven and handed them off to two men before looking at the rest. “Rules in a big holding cell are simple. Sonic shower is available in the cell, but zero privacy. No fighting, no spitting at us, no loud talking and if you have something to say, you best be real nice about it. You do all of those and you will have no problems during your stay here.” He then made a dismissive gesture to the guards who then took them through UV decontamination unit to kill off lice and other surface nasties.

Neil took a deep breath as Trofin lead him into the main AIM hall, “I thought you were going to free all of the miners.”

“I will.”

“So why did you separate those other four?”

“Because they aren’t miners and I haven’t decided if I am going to conscript them or not yet. We didn’t have any of their parents, so I am going to see if Iron Horn is willing to pay. I’ll take whatever they offer for the others, but for those four… I might keep them around for a while.”

“But you’re not going to…”

“Finn, Neil, whatever you like to be called, as long as things work out in the next few minutes they will be just fine.” Trofin jerked his head, “Now come on.”

Neil let out an uneasy breath and moved up to the main desk. It was night and the activity was light, so they were called forward quickly. The woman behind the counter looked totally bored, “What can AIM do for you tonight gentlemen?”

Trofin handed over his certification to the woman, “I’ve got a few things to deal with. First off, I am listed as XO, but our commander was killed several hours ago. Not sure what needs to happen.”

“Type in your AIM ID and give me retinal.”

Trofin did as instructed and watched as the woman got confirmation and frowned, “Says here you are a Master Sergeant, and you only had one officer. Is this correct?”

“Yes. Problem?”

“A minor one, yes. Having a commanding officer is required for all merc units over fifteen members. I’ll have you talk with an AIM advisor. No charge since you are new and lost your CO. We’ll guide you through getting you a commission. Once you are certified as an officer, I would recommend you select and promote at least one other to the next grade below yours so you all have a back-up officer. Things get messy once a unit gets ten or more missions in and loses all of its commissioned officers.”

Seeing Trofin nod, she yawned and asked, “What else can I do for you?”

“I got a potential new member, but he lost his AIM ID in combat.”

“Standard five AIM credit replacement cost for anyone below the rank of sergeant.” Seeing Trofin put a five down on the counter she pointed at Neil, “Move forward Specialist, type in your number and give me a retinal.”

“Can I use my nickname instead of what you show on record?”

“Lots of mercs do, kid. Type in what name you want to be called. As with all registered members of AIM, we have your real name in our database, but what your card says and what personal information shows up in your available records is up to you unless you have a criminal hold. No full documented awards, reprimands, or mission records can be altered in any way. As long as we have a ret scan, you can call yourself little-snot-monster for all I care.”

Neil shook his head and snorted, “While, funny, I’m a bit older than just being a snot nosed brat. But hey, just think of how those I take down would feel if I did. I can hear it now!” Neil made his voice deeper, “Who took you down?” Neil then responded in a higher-pitched voice, “Um, about that, Sarge, um… yeah, it was Little Snot Monster.” Neil snickered, “Just think of how much trash-talk the poor dude would get!”

The lady’s mouth twisted into a bit of a grin, even as she glanced over at Trofin, “Kid’s got some serious grit. Most would-a gotten all butt-hurt or pouty. Looks like you got a little guy with some potential.”

Even as Trofin ruffled Neil’s hair, the computer beeped and showed a green light. At the same time the woman suddenly stood a little straighter. “Welcome to Grey Sands Finn Lockley. Haven’t seen a combat vet decorated by Blood’s Honor come through here before! File says you have a complementary, fully paid for, Combat Frame Certification run waiting. You ready to take it?”

Several conversations within earshot of the counter stopped as this was said. One man in heavy flak jacket and wearing major rank looked over, “Did I just hear Blood’s Honor and frame?”

“You sure did Major McKenna.” The woman responded showing no more signs of being disinterested. “Not only combat awards, but a honest to God BH-CMBT number out of New Bravaria. The young merc in our midst was awarded a BH New Bravaria Combat Ribbon, has several Basic Frame related Certs including Piloting and several in Frame Gunnery. Specialist Lockley, here, is also fully certified as a Platform Gunner and Combat Platform Pilot in track and wheel with a Combat Kill Ribbon. It’s all signed off on personally by General Scott, Blood’s Honor Second Army Commander!”

“You looking to sign on with a real unit?” the major asked. “McKenna’s Marauders will hire you right now. Hell, I’ll bring you in as a corporal. I’ll even go one better and bump you to sergeant and give you four of our young framers to command if you pass your Frame Combat Cert!”

A woman with Senior Lieutenant pins also jumped in, “The Storm Riders are looking for new prospects too, Mr. Lockley! I got a two thousand credit signing bonus and specialist pins for you!”

Seeing a couple of other officers move forward, Neil held up his hand, “Thanks, but I’ve already given my word I was going to give these guys six months.”

Disappointment could be seen in the eyes of most of the other officers, but Major McKenna moved out and handed Neil a card. “Son, you get them certs and wet your feet with a bit more combat success and send me a message to my AIM mail. I’ll pay transport for you to catch up with us no matter where we are.”

Neil took the card while thanking the man. He then glanced over at Trofin, “Any chance I can get promotion?”

Trofin smacked his forehead, “You’re freaking thirteen years old, you shouldn’t even be in a merc unit yet!”

Major McKenna glanced over, “If you don’t want to sign him…”

“NO, no! I want him! Oh, what the hell, you want to be a little NCO, fine! Tell you what, you pass your Combat Frame Cert and I’ll make you a corporal. But you have to pass it tonight. Otherwise, you stay a specialist!”

“When I do, can be put in charge of the three from Quaker VII academy…”

“Why do you care about them so damned much?”

“Because I was taken captive once. It’s scary and it sucks. Besides, they say they all have Basic Frame and some Weapon Certs and we need framers…”

Trofin pushed his hands into his temples, but before he could say anything Major McKenna pulled out a wad of cash, “Hey if you don’t want him, I’ll take all four off your hands for ten grand.”

Trofin let out a low growling sound, “As tempting as your offer is, I’ll pass…” He spun back and glared at Neil, “OK, fine, you get better than a seventy-five on the test I’ll make a deal on trading out three of the Bandit frames for something they can use. If you don’t get a seventy-five, then I drop you down to a senior private for being a total pain in my ass and find someone to take those three off may hands for the highest bid I can get!”

Neil glared back, “Fine, but they are going to be under me and you will sign something here to make them legal mercs so you can’t sell them later!”

“Deal!” Trofin nodded hard even as he turned back to the woman behind the counter with a flustered voice, “Looks like my new member is going to take you up on his free try at his Combat Cert. But, we’ll have to get him sized to one of our frames first.”

The woman typed as she spoke, “No need. Part of our Combat Cert test here is for the pilot to take one of our Lawman series frames, or for really big pilots, a Lumberjack. He gets to put in the load the he wants, then run the course. All weapons are real, but powered down lasers will burn paint and ammo loads are paint and hard rubber. It’s still enough to ding armor, and what shoots back is the same. And for the record, this is a real combat test. Things will shoot back and it will sting when you get hit. There is also the possibility of real damage, but it is rare. The instructor can shut down the course and shadows the test taker in case something goes very wrong.

“As with any Combat Cert, minimum passing score is a sixty-five and to get an AIM Ribbon is seventy. The score is based on a computer algorithm in the frame. It’s set to calculate all aspects of your combat run in accordance with AIM standards, and takes up one of the hard points. Any tampering with the unit is an auto-failure.” She then looked down at Neil, “Mr. Lockley, you will have one hour to equip it and the course runs between two and four hours. It’s getting late. Are you really ready or do you want to take a few hours of downtime? We’ll provide a cot…”

“No, I’m fine.” Neil let out a clearly nervous breath. “I slept most of the way here. Do I at least get to look the frame over beforehand, so I know it is in working order?”

An older man came out from a back office with an AIM uniform on, sporting a combat trainer’s badge on his left shoulder and Senior Sergeant rank on his collar, “Mr. Lockley, I’m Senior Sergeant Mezzelo and will be your training commander tonight. I’ll give you a few and let you go over your testing frame on the fight out to the course. Feel free to give it a once over, but I can assure all our Lawman series frames are in great shape. You want a Recruit or a Deputy class frame?”

“I’d prefer a Sheriff if you got one.”

“You sure? It may be a bit big for you.”

“I’ll be at lower end, but as long as the SAT is fully functioning, I’ll be fine.”

The man smiled, “I’m sure not going to tell a Blood’s Honor merc, no. You ready?”

“If I can get a meal pack to go, sure.”

Trofin looked at his diminishing wad of cash with a wince even as he peeled off a fifty and handed it over. “Get yourself what you want.” He looked over at the training sergeant, “Any place I can view the run?”

The man pointed over to the lounge. “We play them all live in there. Get a seat now, because once it comes over the speaker, and this young man’s number gets put up on the board, word will spread like wildfire. The whiskey’s going to be flowing pretty heavy, as will the betting on a score.”

Neil glanced at the fifty, “Can I bet on myself to pass?”

“Feel free, but a meal pack with two hydration packs is two and a half credits. Also, bets are placed based on percent. As you were just told, sixty-five is passing and eighty is considered damned good.”

“I’m better than good. I’ll take two meals packs with the hydration packs and put the rest on myself to get eighty-five or better.”

“You hit eighty-five, you get a expert cluster to put on your cert ribbon, and we’ll give you real good odds, but I’m going to warn you, you’re probably pissing away your cash.”

Neil shrugged and was allowed to place his bet at twenty-nine to one for an eighty-five or better before being escorted out to a heavily armed AIM shuttle.

An AIM advisor with Commander rank on his collar moved up to the bar and sat next to Trofin, “So, how good is he?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. His younger girlfriend stole my former commander’s Aggressor frame, killed her, took out a Garrison, and forced another to back off and run though.”

“What the hell were you thinking going up against someone with high connections to Blood’s Honor?”

“Didn’t know until we were until it was too late.”

“I’ve heard other mercs say the same thing about Blood’s Honor vets. You’re lucky you still have a unit.”

“Came damned close to not having one, and his girlfriend did a real number on what was left. We never even suspected a couple of merc brats would end up signing on at a mining station for some extra cash while their parents took a short term run of some sort.”

“If you are going to command a merc unit, you need to think outside the box. Sticking kids in a mining camp and letting them earn some money and get some training under the security force is a great way to get the kids out of a dangerous situation. Doing it up here… Well, it may not have been the greatest call, but it still makes a great deal of sense. The kids get to earn some cash, get some outside training, and are not a drain on unit resources.”

“Once I thought it over, I saw the upside, but I’ve got a shit-load to learn. So how about letting me place a bet for a seventy-five or better with a couple hundred and let me know about becoming a merc officer.”

“Not too much to it for a new unit your size. Tell me you want to be one, let me look over your unit and get a BH-CMBT to sign on with you and I’ll say you obviously have what it takes to be an officer.”

“How much of your offer has to do with me getting Finn to sign?”

“Oh, about 99.5 give or take a couple of tenths of a point. Otherwise we will have to do it the hard way and test you, certify your gear, and do a full mission review; all a real hassle.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for whitewashing this?”

“No, I’ll simply slide in my official report in your record a note you hired a BH-CMBT that fought with Blood’s Honor on New Bravaria. Anyone seeing it will probably wonder why I didn’t bump you up a rank for good measure. And, honestly, I would. But your unit founding is just too questionable. Sorry.”

“What about the mission?”

“You sign the kid; I’ll make sure it gets written up as a success. No one is really going to care, especially since Anson Mining didn’t offer any cash incentives for completing it. Any questionable behavior, such as shooting a secured person, I will attribute to your former lieutenant.” Seeing Trofin look at him with wide eyes, the commander cocked his head to the side, “You all came damned close to stepping on the toes of people way over all my pay grade. I got a vid sent to me by those who hit you, since they are attempting to get AIM to put you all on a wanted list. They have no idea you were on a contract yet, but we’ll tell them as soon as you are off planet. This will give you a chance to get clear and for them to cool off. Can’t guarantee you they will not come after you though.”

“Can’t AIM intercede…”

“Those who hit you aren’t AIM, but pretty much all of them are listed with us. They are also associated with an AIM listed unit. I can’t tell you more, but I am willing to bet they back off, but can’t guarantee it. If you all are captured and they take you to trial, AIM will represent you. It was a legit contract and we have enough proof to show your group was not part of the space piracy. The other good thing for you all is reports I got about your raid include vids of the execution. This will allow me to wash your hands of it, but I will put a notation in to watch your unit’s behavior with regards to NCs for the next few missions. Lay off them and it’ll all be chalked up to a bad situation and new CO who didn’t make it out of her first mission alive.”

“OK, sounds good to me. But how did you get vids and reports already?”

“There’s some things I can’t get into, and you just asked one. All I can say is those who hit you sent us information about listing you all as criminals and included what was done to the Wagon you entered the system in, the SFC it was docked with, and the attempted slaughter of hundreds, if not more than a thousand in life pods. We also have combat vids of the fighting between their fighters and the micros launched from the shuttle you were on. Hell, they even got full vids from dozens of angles of fighting between you and the OPFOR.

“Anson’s happy with what you did and paid us a bit extra to help you all out if we could, so we separated you all and the Quaker VI Royal Guard on the vids. It’s real clear you all were mission oriented, while the Royal Guard pirates were far more blood thirsty. Your only mission black mark was the execution of the executive, but it still falls into marginally acceptable behavior given your mission and him being one of the lead station execs.

“We were waiting to see an outcome before responding to their initial requests, but having your CO killed works in your favor. We’ll put it down as a war crime on her, not your unit, and put a notation to keep an eye on your handling of NCs over your next few missions. When they realize you escaped and ask us for information, we’ll turn over the files showing you were a legit Merc unit at the time of the assault, under contract to hit the station, and show them the obvious division between you and the Royal Guard. I have no idea what they will do when they see what we have and it’s all the help we are willing to give. One way or the other you are still a valid D minus fledgling with one success mission. Those we turn the information over to may drop the whole thing, or they may come after you. Either way, it’s not AIM’s problem since what hit you was not an AIM listed unit.”

“And you can’t tell me who may want to erase us from existence?”

“No, but I am sure you will find out sooner rather than later, no matter what direction they decide to take.”

“Wonderful. Anything else?”

“Yeah, Iron Horn already posted on our message boards. It’s willing to pay a base-line ransom if any of their station workers are offered back. Standard AIM fee is twenty percent for being a go between… With an extra five percent to me, since I am being so helpful.”

“How much are we talking?”

“Not much.” The man slid a hand computer over showing the posting from Iron Horn. “It’s on the real low end, but I have seen lower and it will get them all off your hands. It’s also straight forward: 2500 for an exec, 1000 per mining specialist, 500 for standard employee, and 250 for dependent or minor employee. They even posted a list of names in each category and I already worked out the numbers. For all of them, your cut would be 15,000. If you have other plans for the four you paid extra for your cut drops down a smidge to 14,250.”

“For now I’ll keep the four and take the 14,250. What about the ore hauler?”

“I’ll see if Iron Horn is willing to pay to get it back. If not, AIM can find a buyer. Same cut?”

“It better be worth more than fourteen grand to me!”

“If Iron Horn isn’t willing to fork over a 100 K, I’ll find you a buyer. But I would almost bet you they offer between 125 to 150 K for it. Even as beat up as the one you brought in looked, those bastards aren’t cheap!”

“You get me at least 100 K on my cut, and yeah, I’ll give you a five percent bonus.”

“Sounds good, Lieutenant.” The man slid the rank and new ID card over. “I’ll even buy us a bottle of good stuff, so we can see what your Blood’s Honor numbered kid can show us.”

Neil looked over the Sheriff class frame before moving over to a bank of weapons lockers. He started off with his favorite heavy weapon, a RAM grenade launcher. He installed it on the underside of the right arm. He set up a back ammo bin, but held off on adding any until he did a weight test.

His next additions were lasers. He mounted the light on the top side of the right arm and a standard laser on the top of left arm. A standard machinegun went on the left shoulder, and a light gyro on the right shoulder. Finally, he installed some carbon steel fists. He jumped into the frame, did a weight test and nodded to himself. Max movement was only down four kilometers an hour. Knowing he had lots of room for ammo while still keeping the frame at a speed being able to move faster than he was comfortable with, he added seventy-five kilos of hard rubber and paint rounds between the three ammo using weapons.

Once he input the ammo into the computer and verified the gyro had self-centered, he jogged back and forth, jumped a few times, shadow-boxed with himself and even did a trio of spinning kicks. Satisfied he climbed back out. “OK, I’m ready!”

“Impressive piloting,” Senior Sergeant Mezzelo stated. “If you shoot half as well, you’ll pass with no problem.” The man moved up to a terminal, “Give me a number between one and ten, son.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Yeah, it tells me what mission I am going to give you. Since you haven’t been here before I’m letting you pick a number.”

“Is one harder than the others?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry if you accidently pick a real hard one, the testing computer takes it into account on the grade scale.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about how it’s graded. I just want to give my new CO a good show. Can you just set it up for the hardest one?”

The man snickered. “OK, number three it is. The briefing will play through your testing computer. I will shadow, but don’t expect me to stop the test unless you get seriously hurt or your frame breaches.”

“I’ll be super mad if you stop it even if I do get a breach. I better be down and bleeding to death before you stop it!”

“Blood’s Honor, for sure. Briefing start in five, once it is done, you go through the gate and grading starts.”

Seconds later a face of a woman with a nasty and still bleeding cut appeared in his faceplate. “AIM, this is Lieutenant Baxter, AIM Rescue Command Grey Sands. This is a priority mission request for any AIM member in the area. We have a downed framer in the abandoned Coral Bay Mining Station. She has a platinum rescue package, and we are showing diminished life signs. My rescue shuttle was hit and we are down. Rescue from my end is a bust. Request immediate help, say again request immediate help.”

Neil changed frequencies to the one listed at the bottom of the vid message, “This is Specialist Lockley, of the Q Sabers. I am in the area. I can attempt rescue. Can you give me coordinates or more information, over?”

The woman’s face reappeared, “Specialist Lockley, our shuttle was not able to get a lock before getting hit with a micro missile spread. We have very limited information. All I can tell you is your target is Ensign Johnson, of the Angel Fire merc unit and she is in a Mercenary class frame. Her homing beacon is either off to protect her or damaged so there is no further homing ability.”

“What about contract details?” Neil asked. “Can you at least give me some basics on what they are doing out here?”

“Because this is an AIM rescue and you are offering to help, yes. Unfortunately, the information is vague. Angel Fire is a frame squad merc unit. Roster shows two Aggressors, a Rogue, a Lumberjack, and the Mercenary. They took a contract to root out bandits in the Coral Bay station. Be advised, at this time we don’t think any are up. Bandits were supposed to be light, so someone screwed up on intel. If you are going to attempt extraction, your only concern is Ensign Johnson. None of the others have any AIM rescue policies.”

“Compensation?”

“We show you do not have Combat Certs. We will give you full Combat Certs for frame and any weapons you use effectively if you get her out. In addition, we will pay for any ammo expended and frame repair regardless of success. Other compensation will need to be discussed after we have the ensign.”

“Alright, AIM Rescue Command, I’ll get her out.”

Neil moved, rolled through the open gate and came up in a crouch. As soon as he did, several effects kicked in. There was a burst of tracer fire, a few flashes of laser light, sounds of machinegun fire from somewhere deep in the camp and half a dozen fires popped up. The flames also caused eerie shadows and while illuminating the whole place enough to let Neil really see what he was dealing with. What was left of the mining station was something right out of some of the damage Neil had seen in the New Bravaria system. While most of the damage was at least a decade old, it was very clear the place had been fought over before being turned into a massive testing area. New spots of damage could be seen.

Neil instantly regretted not taking IR or UV, enhancements. The reason he hadn’t was he knew test scores took into account frame enhancements and didn’t want a harder standard applied to the run. As he carefully moved around the first couple of buildings however, he wished he had at least one or the other.

Still there was enough of a glow from fires within the station to let him see and there was moonlight from the third moon giving an extra glow. He sure hoped fighting at night was taken into account somewhere in the grade scale, though. He started to move again, but spotted something up and to his right. It took a few seconds to find it again, but when he did, he realized it was a large drone, and it had some kind of weapon on the nose.

He crouched down and let it go by. It didn’t seem to spot him. “Oh, air assets, not very nice!” He grumbled as he stayed down and watched it. Once he was sure it moved out of a line of sight, Neil moved deeper in. Five minutes later he spotted another drone. This one was bigger and had twin guns. At the same time, he saw yet another drone as it moved across the moon. “Damn, this is a hard one!”

Neil bet, based on the briefing, getting to the ‘downed frame’ quickly was a huge part of the grading so he couldn’t just slink around, hide from drones and hope to get lucky. He had to go on the attack, but how? “Come on, Finn, what would Major O’Connell come up with? What trick would he use?”

Trick… Neil smiled as an idea suddenly came to him, yes, a trick! He needed as many drones to come to him as quickly as possible, but he also had to keep his location hidden. He ran down his inventory and almost gave up, but then he realized he did have the perfect thing, all Lawman class frames came with a spotlight. Yet he also realized if he just panned it across the sky, every drone in the place would be on him in seconds. He had to put the light up, while not giving away his true location.

A real plan started to form. He moved into the remnants of a building, and explored for almost ten minutes, but found what he was looking for, a large piece of a broken mirror. He positioned the mirror at a window and angled it. He then moved over to hide behind a wall with a large hole in it and activated his spotlight, pointing it at the mirror.

The beam of light shot across the room, hit the mirror and went up.

He clicked the spotlight on and off half a dozen times before he saw half a dozen drones moving in from seemingly all over. He gave it a few seconds, then as the first drones started to turn away, he did it again.

He played the game for over two minutes before one of the drones locked onto where the light was coming from and set a burst of light machinegun rounds into the window. As it did, the other drones started peppering the area around the window with everything from light lasers, to light gyro rounds, to Pico missiles.

Neil spun from his covered position, pointed his RAM grenade launcher up, ordered air detonations and fired a three-shot spread. Of the six drones, four took heavy shrapnel damage and moved off badly smoking. One other took enough of the rubber into its engines to flame out totally. It slammed into the ground and exploded.

The last drone spun and fired a light gyro into the wall even as it backed off.

Neil tumbled again, laid flat to get some cover from the broken wall and sent up a stream of machinegun ammo, using the tracered rounds to track into the drone. It cost him twenty rounds, but the last drone spun out of control slammed into a wall and burst into flames.

Neil moved out of his hiding spot, dashed across the rubble strewn street and dove through a hole in a wall in another building. As he did so, he noted a down and badly mangled Lumberjack frame. He moved to check, but as he did so the grading computer showed the face of the AIM woman. “Pilot deceased. Laser and missile fire to the frame. Angel Fire markings are on the frame.”

Neil rolled the frame over and did a quick check. It had two standard machineguns and the back ammo bins each held over a hundred rounds. He marked the location in case he ran low on ammo and moved out again.

He stuck close to building walls, while keeping his eyes looking out and up. He just moved up to a crumbled wall, when a large tracked drone plowed through the wall, knocked him down hard and sent three lasers at him. One hit torso armor, the other two missed.

Anger coursed through Neil. Getting slammed to the ground hurt and his frame even chirped out real armor damage to his right side. Seeing the turret spinning to lock back on him, Neil rolled right at the drone. As soon as he was inside the arc of the lasers, the drone tried to back off, but Neil had no desire to take another hit. He tumbled to the left side and slammed his frame’s carbon fist into the side, busting off the track. He then reared back and slammed his other fist into the side three times. Once through the armor, he reached in and started yanking wires until the whole thing shuddered and started smoking.

Still not satisfied, he ripped off all three light lasers, stood and kicked it onto its side.

Even as he moved to find new cover, he pulled up frame diagnostics. The laser hit had been logged as light damage to a spot over the kidney and there was a minor ding from being knocked down. Everything else was in the green.

With a sigh of relief, at only having a pair of small armor hits he moved deeper into the mess of buildings. Fifteen minutes later he narrowly avoided heavy machinegun fire from a wheeled drone armed with two machineguns. As he low crawled in his frame to get to a better spot he noticed the camera on the turret and smiled. “Oh, really, let’s see how the AIM guy controlling you likes this!”

He rolled out from behind cover, turned on the spotlight and pointed it right at the camera while continuing to move. It was clear whoever was behind the controls was totally blinded as the turret tried to keep up with Neil. At the same time the machineguns belched out a couple hundred rounds on full auto, hoping to get a lucky hit.

Neil watched as the barrels started to glow red and the fire stopped. He knew the barrels had overheated and had shut down the ammo feeds so it could cool before the barrels started to melt. He moved right up to the drone, clicked off his light so he was sure whoever was controlling it could see and slammed his fist right into the barrels, bending both. He then planted a foot on the camera smashing it. For good measure, he used his frame’s shoulder to knock the drone over onto its top, and moved on.

He came across two Aggressor frames, both listed as Angel Fire and both pilots dead seconds before two more ground drones came at him. One fired a spread of six micro missiles, while the second one let loose with pair of light rail gun shots.

Everything missed, but there was enough debris kicked up for the testing computer to give him minor armor hits to both legs.

Neil dove in the cover the two frames had ‘died’ behind and glanced around, a little scared. This was way more firepower than he expected and getting hit with anything the latest two drones were armed with, even though they were using rubber, would still do some real armor damage and would hurt like hell. The rail gun shots really worried him though, since they had to be metal coated to be propelled by the magnetic launchers. He stayed down and watched as a section of the wall right above him shredded from two more rail gun hits. This only verified what he guessed. The rail gun armed drone had to go!

“Come on Finn, think,” he muttered to himself. It was something both Captain Tanner and his father stressed to him often. Talking to himself was not a bad thing. Instead it helped reduce fear and forced some kind of clear thinking. He calmed even as another hole appeared in the low section of wall he was using for cover. This allowed him to really look at the situation. Then it occurred to him. The Aggressors were dead, there was nothing he could do for them and they certainly weren’t his objective. He pulled himself over to the closer of the two, drug it over the top of his frame and then, with everything he and his frame had, pushed it up and over the low wall. As expected both drones took the bait.

Neil spun on his frame’s back panel by kicking his feet, got his shoulders and arms around the edge of the wall and let loose with everything he had. The RAM grenade and gyro both hit the turret where the rail guns were, while his lasers and machinegun tore into the front. The drone stopped and released smoke, a lot of it. He kicked his feet to spin back around hoping this meant he had done enough damage for it to be recorded as a kill.

A six-pack of micro missiles blasted into the low wall knocking bits of it onto him. Again, while no real damage was done, the testing computer determined two areas of the chest had taken minor hits. Annoyed, since Neil figured in real combat he wouldn’t have taken any, he barrel rolled over to the other Aggressor and shoved it hard.

As the missile armed drone locked on to the shoved frame, Neil snickered, “You idiots just don’t learn!”

Neil jumped up, leapt over the wall, and planted a kick into the drone, locking the turret because the force of the kick bent the frame. He then delivered a four punch combo, shattering the turret armor. With the internals exposed he sent a haymaker into and through the mangled turret, reached in, yanked out the ammo feed to the launcher, then punched the launch tubes. With a growl, he reached in and activated the firing mechanism and spun behind a building corner. As expected, the ammo blew up in the tubes and caused a cascade effect. Fifteen seconds later the drone literally exploded taking out a wall as it did so.

Ten minutes later Neil located the Mercenary frame, found a dummy pilot in it, and carried it out.

Inside the main bar at AIM Grey Sands the cheering was beyond loud as the display lit up with a 96.2 score, tied for second highest score ever recorded at Grey Sands and the highest score ever recorded on test three by a just under three points.

Even as Neil boarded the armed shuttle, newly promoted Lieutenant Polzin was getting offers of thousands of credits for letting Neil join other units. At the same time the AIM commander bought a full bottle and took a long hit from it while looking over at Trofin with horrified look, “The fifteen grand for the test won’t even scratch the damage he did to my drones!”

Major McKenna moved up, paid for another bottle, and set it in front of the clearly stunned commander, “It’s about time you money grubbing bastards end up picking up a bill rather than stealing from all us hard working and fighting blokes! Oh, and me and my boys are going to stick around to see you give him an AIM Gold Star Frame Combat Cert Medal, and make sure you give him the frame reward for scoring over a ninety-six!” McKenna pointed up to the testing board where there was a notice of the new Mercenary frame prize, which had clearly been put up as a nearly unobtainable goal.

The commander ran his hand down his face took another long drink, and sighed, “No way is he big enough for a Mercenary… Shit.” He looked back to one of the people at the desk, took a third huge swing, and shook his head, “Specialist, what new frames do we have for someone Mr. Lockley’s size, in the same price range as a Mercenary?”

“Nothing really, sir. The Ice Marauders bought our last three Aggressors, and all five of our Intruders. We’ve got Avengers and Raiders, but there is no way he will fit in them.”

“Move up the list, what do we have for a what… he can’t be but about fifty kilos, if that!”

“Sir, in the real small size range, most of our stuff is super low end, Blades, Cadets, Micros and Garrisons…”

“No, go high, not low. I don’t want it said AIM Grey Sands welches on deals or prizes… and put a note up of a winner and change that damned banner to ninety-seven or better!”

Hearing laughter from dozens of mercs, the commander held up both middle fingers and rotated his hands so everyone got a good look. This only got more laughter, but did cause more drinks to be bought.

A few seconds later an AIM sergeant came out of the back with a piece of paper, “I only see three possibilities if you want to give the little shit something better than a Mercenary, sir.”

The commander looked at the list, the three highlighted frames and cringed. “Oh, what the hell! It’s going to kick my budget straight in the nuts no matter which one I give him. Besides, how often does something like this happen? They can take it out of my bonus. Let the kid pick. He did give us a hell of a show.”

Neil parked the frame in a holding space aboard the shuttle and hopped out. He looked over at the bemused grin on Senior Sergeant Mezzelo, “I’m hoping your look means I got better than an eighty-five and am going to get about a 1300 credit payoff!”

“Oh, you nailed it, kid, and you got more than a bet payoff coming. But since you creamed at least a 100 K worth of drones and blew out half a dozen vid feed cameras, the least you can do is show me you really do have Advanced Frame Repair, and patch the armor for us.”

“These dings? I’ll have them touched up and still have time to eat my second meal pack before we get back to Grey Sands!”

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo pointed to a repair kit and a stack of armor rods, sat back, and watched.

Neil grabbed onto the frame bay as the shuttle took off. Once the flight leveled off and things steadied, he grabbed an armor liquefier and went to work. He was just finishing up when the shuttle pilot’s voice came over the speaker, “Sergeant Mezzelo, I have a flash message posted on the merc board and we are super close!”

“Put it up Specialist!”

Neil glanced up as a holographic unit lit up and a woman in an AIM lieutenant uniform appeared, “Any merc units: Emergency open ticket rescue flash contract! Nickel Creek just sent word of their corporate transport shuttle having taken ground fire approximately thirty-seven klicks east of their main facility. It didn’t make it to station and all contact has been lost. Nickel Creek is offering a flat 150 K for live retrieval of its CEO and 50 K for each of the other six family members brought back alive. Responding units are welcome to all combat salvage. Nearest current units are AIM Testing Transport Three, the Dirt Neck Devastators, Alexi’s Avengers, and O’Connell Grenadiers. Next closest units are…”

Even as the two frame pilots who guarded the transport during Neil’s test moved to their Mercenary frames, Senior Sergeant Mezzelo glanced over at Neil, “What about it, son? You game for an even sixteen and two-thirds percent split after repairs to the shuttle, frames, ammo replacement, and fuel?”

Neil looked over with wide eyes, “I’d love to, but I got training ammo…”

“We got live ammo in the back lockers, I’ll even help you load.”

Neil pumped his fist, “Let’s do this!”

One of the two men who were tasked with guarding the shuttle during Neil’s test looked over. “Have you ever done a real drop pod drop?”

“Yeah, one!” Neil smiled, “It was a blast!”

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo laughed. “Good enough for me. Let’s get you loaded and we’ll move our frames into the back so we can drop.” He then turned his attention forward, “Get us there and put up on the board we are responding! Keep me posted on who else, if anyone, is coming. We don’t want to end up fighting the wrong people!”

Back at the Iron Horn complex, Robin’s battle computer lit up with the flash message. He looked over, “Major, we are less than a hundred klicks out from the latest AIM flash contract.”

Major O’Connell shook his head, “It would cost us at least a few thousand in deployment costs with no guarantee of payout. Besides, there is not enough of us down here to go after it.”

Luna spoke up, “What are you talking about? We have almost a full frame force down here!”

“Luna,” Captain Tanner spoke up, “you all are listed as auxiliary, not frontline combatants, and the vast majority of those down there with you are not part of the Grenadiers. Plus, of the new members who are, we haven’t officially added them into our AIM roster. Besides, Major O’Connell is correct. At max we’re are talking about 450 K payout, and chances are some, if not all, didn’t make it since their transport went down. We could go out there, get shot up, and find everyone dead. We come back with nothing and have to pay to fix up frames. It’s not a good contract for us.”

“But we’re like just down the block!” Robin argued. “We could jump in a shuttle and be there in minutes!”

“Yeah!” Luna joined in. “Hell, at a dead run in these frames we could be there in about two hours!”

Major O’Connell snickered, “Robin, Luna, when I say no, you both ought to know by now, I actually mean no. However, if you two want to play around with calling all the shots of a merc unit, we’ll take your butts and those of any Grenadier Double D, existing or new, who want to join you down to AIM. We’ll get you all listed as independent, but attached to us. I bet with the salvage we get out of the SFC and Wagon, much of which we got because of Robin and those who went over to the Wagon with him, we could patch up the EC Combat ship Kay shot down. I could hand it over to you so you all have transport and something to base yourselves out of. For starting cash and supplies, you get all the combat salvage down here and we’ll spot you fuel and a few necessities such as med kits, repair kits, a couple weeks of food and the like. We’ll add in personal weapons and a pair of full ammo load-outs for fighters and frames as well. You will be responsible for paying us for any such equipment, meaning you start like any other merc unit, in debt.

“You’ll need to hire a real medic and find a couple of adults to be advisor officers. All of whom I will have to approve, but I think you have all the other basics covered. We’ll be here for at least six months and it sounds like this moon is one step in the wrong direction from a toilet. Many of you are in enlistment age within the system, too, so it will not be a big deal for me to wiggle AIM into letting you all get your feet wet. Chances are good you could pick up a contract or two, or just sit up here and go after flash missions. This is the third one I have seen come across the AIM boards since we got here.

“Truth is, it’d be good for both of you, since you would find out what a nightmare it is to run a merc unit, make payroll, keep all your members current with AIM, make quarterly payments to AIM, keep up with maintenance, handle supplies, and the myriad of other things neither of you fully grasp.”

Luna took a knee and frowned, “Not that we will, but what if we screw up and can’t keep up with the bills?”

Major O’Connell shot both kids a sinister looking smirk, “Then you lose the only real asset you have, the EC combat craft. It gets transferred back to me. Your debt and first unit vanishes like seventy to eighty percent of all new units do within the first year of their existence.”

Robin glanced over at Major O’Connell with a worried cringe, “And if we don’t take you up on the offer, we don’t get the shuttle, do we?”

“Nope. Kay is a Grenadier, so his combat kill and everything left in it is mine to do what I want with it.”

“And this is why I never want to play you in chess,” Luna complained. “It’s like you have me checkmated before I make the first move!” She punched the ground, “But, come on, sitting here doing nothing is a waste.”

“No, sitting here and keeping guard is a huge part of being a disciplined merc, Luna. Running off to fight with no real guarantee of success or a payoff, is.”

Jared moved up and took a knee next to Luna, “Makes me wonder if being captured by questionable mercs, like Neil was, or being here stuck on guard duty is worse.”

Luna shot Jared a grin, “Neil has it better. At least he can try to escape or something. All we can do is stand around and guard a pile of rubble.”

Neil verified the drop pod was synced to his frame by test firing a few of the maneuver jets. Once satisfied, he pulled up the terrain mapping and watched the landscape below. Suddenly there was an obvious divot in the ground below. Seconds later he felt the shuttle violently slide to the right and bank up.

The voice of the pilot came over the speaker, “Ground fire, ground fire!” at the same time Neil heard the buzz of muffled machinegun fire from one of the lower turrets.

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo’s voice came over the radio, “Finn, we are taking fire. It is up to you if you drop. Herman, Stetson, we go in three… two… one… Drop!”

Neil didn’t hesitate. As soon as he got a green light, he hit the release. The securing arm held him just long enough to allow the hole below him to open. Moments later he was out. Below, he watched as tracer fire tracked toward one of the other pods and lanced into it. The fire was short lived, as the gunner on the shuttle sent a stream of heavy machinegun fire back. Even as the hit pod spun out of control, there was an explosion on the ground as whatever was firing upward succumbed to the sustained fire from above.

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo’s voice came over the radio, “Herman, stay with the pod! Stay with the…Damn-it!”

Neil cringed as the pilot in the damaged drop pod panicked and broke out of the shell moments before it hit the ground. Rule one, drummed into him by every Grenadier and reinitiated more times than he could count by the Quaker VII academy, was to stay with a drop pod. It didn’t matter how damaged it was, since it was weighed and had shock absorption built in to the base plate. This meant even if the thrusters didn’t fire at all, there was still a chance for survival. While Neil had heard this, been preached it, he had no idea what breaking out too soon would mean.

Watching the hapless pilot plummet into the moon, slam into the side of the pod and then see the whole frame nearly fold in half, caused a shiver to roll up his spine. There was no question the frame pilot had been killed.

A chirp from Neil’s pod snapped him back to his own situation. With wide eyes and a pounding heart, he pushed the side thruster so he was over level ground and let the pod’s auto descent handle the rest. He waited until he felt the pod settle and stop moving before pushing outward to break the encasement.

He jumped out and started to move toward the downed frame out of instinct, but was stopped, “Finn, there is nothing you can do for him and I can guarantee you, you don’t want to see it up close. Hook up with us. We’ll do a triangular formation. I’ll take point, you take left back at fifteen meters.”

Neil took one more glace in the direction of the mangled frame and drop pod before turning away and jogging to take up the ordered position. As he continued to move up the hill, he spotted a frame crouched down behind a rock. He dropped to a knee even as he radioed a warning, “Militia behind spiked rock at 370!”

Moments later the frame opened up with a trio of light lasers, but the warning gave the other two with Neil time to dodge. All three missed. Neil lined up his standard laser and fired. The shot caught the very light frame in the right elbow. The laser burned through the armor and into the hydraulics.

The enemy pilot jerked back, exposing himself to Senior Sergeant Mezzelo. The AIM sergeant was only too happy to pound the Militia with a sonic cannon and a heavy laser. Armor over the chest buckled and the right shoulder started smoking while knocking it down and fully into the open.

Neil targeted the struggling frame with a RAM grenade and a light laser. Since the pilot was fighting just to stand, it was almost too easy. The grenade slammed into the right hip while the laser burned into the upper chest.

At this point the Militia fell hard a second time, even as a Mercenary and a Minuteman popped up from over the crest of the hill and unloaded on the frame taking the right flank of the triangular formation. Armor shredded. While nothing breached, the cascade of fire caused the man to fall. He stayed down, moaning. A few seconds later red smoke signaled he had a real medical problem.

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo snarled, “Damn-it, Stetson! Right flank was yours. What were you looking at over there? Air, do you have a visual on what else we are facing?”

The pilot’s voice responded, “Sergeant, a hover is angling away from the crash. What you saw explode was a small tracked platform, couldn’t have held more than four or five frames. I have three enemy frames, but you know about them. I got nothing else. There is a lot of debris and rough ground out there, though and lots of places to hide.”

“Keep your eyes open up there for us! Finn, take the Minuteman, but keep your eye on the Militia in case it gets back up. The Merc is mine!”

Neil stayed down on one knee, knowing it not only made him a harder target to hit, it also allowed him a steady position to fire from. He twisted his torso and unloaded with everything he had. While the light laser went high, everything else hit including the gyro and a couple of machinegun rounds into the face plate. The head unit didn’t breach, but smoke started pouring out from around the head unit, telling Neil, he had done some damage to something vital.

The back hatch of the Minuteman popped open seconds later and the pilot fell out coughing, while smoke continued to curl around the head and out the back. Just to make sure it stayed out of the fight, Neil put another RAM grenade into the chest of the abandoned frame knocking it onto its back. Knowing there was no chance anyone was getting back into it without help to roll it over, he pointed his arm over at the Militia and put another laser shot into it.

At this point the pilot of the Militia had enough. The frame rolled behind the rocks, then continued to tumble down the backside of the hill.

The shuttle pilot instantly radioed, “We’ve got a runner!”

“Finn, let him go! Keep me covered!” Senior Sergeant Mezzelo ordered. “Air, keep tabs on the hover and the runner!”

Neil jumped back up to his feet and piloted in a flanking move, while still staying in position to keep Senior Sergeant Mezzelo covered. As he did so he couldn’t help but be thankful of how many hours the adults of the Grenadiers had worked with him and other on just this kind of scenario. It didn’t take long for Neil to work himself into a position to get a nice clean shot on the enemy frame. He took his time and sent a RAM grenade and a laser into its side, while missing with the gyro.

The Mercenary spun and peppered Neil’s frame with a pair of heavy auto shotguns, causing the frame computer to chirp out over two dozen widely spread out hits.

The massive number of small hits to the armor was like getting slapped hard by dozens of hands over his entire body. Even as Neil grimaced, anger flared. He hit back with his machinegun on full auto even as he advanced, while firing the rest of his weapons as quickly as they cycled.

At the same time, Senior Sergeant Mezzelo took full advantage and pumped in several hits of his own. Less than thirty seconds later the pilot popped white smoke and pointed his arms down.

Seeing Neil still pointing his arm mounted weapons at the battered Mercenary frame, Senior Sergeant Mezzelo shouted, “Finn! Back off!”

Neil leaned forward and took some deep breaths, “I am, but if he shoots me with those shotguns again, I’m going to put a fist through his faceplate! Those stupid things hurt like crazy!”

“Between the two of us, we had him dead to rights. There was no reason for you to close. You got careless and paid for it. Use this as a valuable life lesson.”

Neil coughed a few times, “Oh, I paid for it alright. I think I just found out what a sandbag at a firing range feels like!”

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo couldn’t help but snicker. “You think it hurts now, wait till morning… Oh, and by the way, I don’t think you are going to get your armor patched before we get back.”

“Ugg!” Neil managed to get out.

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo moved up and motioned for the pilot to get out. As the back hatch opened, he spoke up, “Who are you with?”

The woman winced as she stepped out, rubbing her shoulder. She said nothing, but did spit at Mezzelo’s frame.

Senior Sergeant Mezzelo made a growling sound even as he put a sonic stun shot into the woman at point blank range, then as she fell, he stunned her a second time. Without any sign of remorse, he moved over to her frame and pushed it onto its back. This way even if she managed to wake up, there was no way she could get in. “Let’s get to the crash.”

Neil pointed over to the red smoke, “What about him?”

“Once we secure the area I’ll call the shuttle in and they can pull him aboard. Neither one of us can do much for him right now, and I am not about to have our transport land until we know damned good and well we can lift off without taking ground fire.”

Hours later Neil yawned as he made his way over to Trofin. As he did so, he had a whole different take on the after actions of combat. The securing of the site, the pulling of the company CEO and his three surviving family members out of the wreckage came first, but it was just one of many tasks required. It didn’t help there were only two of them to do things like take control of the prisoners, handle the retrieval of the drop pods, the securing of the frame and the pilot who had died horribly in the failed drop, and the gathering of combat salvage. On top of all of this, the CEO was angry some others had gotten away after shooting down his transport, taking of one of his kids as a hostage, the killing another of his children and pilot in the crash, and stealing the pay for those in the installation he had been going to. Even with all this going on as they flew back to the base, Neil had to work on the borrowed frame and patch all the armor hits. The fact he had taken dozens of hits also left him bruised and battered making all the work harder.

Trofin looked down at Neil, “Not bad for one night of work, kiddo.”

“Ugg,” was Neil’s only response as he collected his winnings on his bet, took a seat at the counter, and ordered a large breakfast.

Several mercs came by to congratulate him on not only passing his Combat Frame Pilot Cert, but also partaking in a successful AIM mission. Neil forced himself to be polite, but for the first time he really understood how come his mom and dad didn’t want to talk when they came back in from a combat mission. Even though he had been told countless times by one or both parents ‘We love you, but go away’ or ‘Go play’ when all he really wanted was to hug them for coming back alive, it wasn’t until he took his first bite of eggs after his first mission it made sense. He didn’t want to talk to the other mercs, he didn’t want to hear about how great he had done, and he certainly didn’t care about having his Combat Frame Cert. He wanted to unwind, to eat, and to have his ears stop ringing from being inside a frame as it got pelted with round after round of heavy shotgun rounds.

The other thing he couldn’t help but relive was seeing the frame of someone on his side slam into the ground. He had lost friends and family of friends, but for some reason this was different. This had been the loss of a member of the team, one he felt responsible for. The fact one of the others had been taken straight to medical, made it harder. Two men had fallen, men he was fighting with, men he didn’t even get the names of. Neil wondered as he took a long drink of juice how the Grenadier adults could do this over and over. How did they deal with the loss of someone they did know, and oftentimes had for years?

Neil’s train of thought was brought to an abrupt end as Senior Sergeant Mezzelo sat down and slid an AIM scanner over. “Let’s get some cash on your AIM ID. You’re getting an even split from the mission.”

Neil handed over his card, and watched as 13,734 AIM credits was added on. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, “Didn’t you say we were getting an even split?”

“We are.”

“But… we got 300,000…”

“We earned 300 K, yes.” Senior Sergeant Mezzelo paused as he saw confusion written over Neil’s face. “But you are not taking into account mission expenses.”

“I get there was expenses, but like 250,000?”

Mezzelo sat down and rubbed Neil’s shoulder. “Hard to believe, but over 200 K, yes.” Getting only confused blinks out of Neil, the AIM sergeant forced a bit of a smile. “So let’s go down the big expenses, OK?”

“Um, sure… I guess…”

“First we have the lost drop pod, 40 K, and the refurbishment of the other three 15 K each. Next is the lost AIM frame, taking into account age and used condition, it cost us just under 69 K. Then we run down the basics, fuel, ammo, armor patches, medical for Stetson, and remember we are splitting this six ways. We owe the pilot and gunner for getting us there and for air cover. Herman has family and they deserve to get his cut. AIM isn’t charging us for rental of the shuttle, since it didn’t take any hits and the crew is fine, or we would have had to pay something for that as well.

“We also will get something from the armored transport the shuttle took out and since it was posted as a full salvage mission, the CEO’s transport, or what is left of it will get us some more, but we will have to wait to see what a salvage company is willing to pay us. Again. It won’t be much, all in all I bet you will get a few more grand added to your card over the next couple of hours. Now you do have the added award of the Minuteman. I get the Mercenary, so you do have some damned good combat salvage, but you’ll probably want to pull the weapons to add to your new frame and sell the frame so you can finish the outfitting and buy ammo.”

“I haven’t even started to fix the Striker yet…”

Trofin let out a light snort, “Finn, I’m pretty sure the Striker is going to be your back-up.” He put his finger under Neil’s chin, lifted his head and turned it to look at the banner. “You’re famous here.”

It took a few moments for Neil’s exhausted mind to note the award of the frame for a getting such a high score pasted with his picture and Corporal Lockley as the name. “No… no way…”

The AIM commander came over and set down a tablet, “We are giving you a choice out of these three frames since you couldn’t fit into the Mercenary we had up on the board.”

“Wow…” Neil looked at the list with a whistle. “Astro, Guardian, or Legionnaire…” Neil looked up at Trofin who simply held up both hands, so he looked back down at the pad in front of him. “My unit had an Astro, but sold it because it was too expensive to keep up. After seeing how fast 300,000 goes, I don’t want lots of upkeep. I really like the armor of the Guardian, but it has an auto med kit, and I know those take stupid money to restock and I have no idea how to work on it. I’ll go with the Legionnaire. It will be awesome to have a frame with a battle computer and battle map HUD… unless this is some sort of initiation joke…”

“Nope, no joke.” The AIM commander sighed, “It was on the board, for anyone scoring over a ninety-six, and you just managed to make it. Seven minutes longer and you would have been just below and I wouldn’t be handing you a prize we have had on the books here for over six years. Now everyone has to go a bit higher, and get a ninety-seven.”

Trofin snickered as the disbelief flickered across Neil’s face. “Come on, Corporal. Get your frame, sell your Minuteman, and get it set up. You also need to leave a message for your unit and parents.”

“We in a hurry?”

“Yeah. I want to clear out and give those who hit us at the mining camp a reason to forget about us. Besides, thanks to your two successes, I think I managed to get us a contract.”

“To where?”

“Not sure, I am hoping to finalize the contract in the next hour or so.”

Neil came out of the private message booth, having sent messages to both of his parents, Major O’Connell, and Captain Tanner. He leaned against a wall and took a couple of nervous breaths. The messages really drove home what he was about to do, leave the Grenadiers, leave his family, leave the ”Grey Stallion”, his home. Yet this was the only chance to find the rest of the missing kids, and in particular Jessie’s brother. Still, there was fear and sadness. It was enough to cause a tear to roll down his cheek.

He wiped it away, closed his eyes tight and took a couple of deep breaths while speaking softly to himself, “Neil, you can… no, Finn you can do this. It’s only six months. It’s shorter than the off-world trip you wanted to take with the Q VII academy. You can do this.” He repeated it to himself a full dozen times before he forced himself to look calmer than he really was.

He moved past security and into the frame repair and holding area, getting nods and pats on the back from dozens of men and women he didn’t even know. In the bay he found his brand new frame and ran down the weapons pulled off the Minuteman. He then started running down what he could buy with the 73,780 AIM had been willing to pay for the frame itself. He decided to use most of the weapons from the Minuteman, and added in a few others, along with a spotlight and IR visual enhancement. He then used some of the remaining cash to adjust the loadout of the damaged Striker.

Since he had been given time for free in the repair bay, and Trofin was still working on a contract, he got permission to pull the Striker out and work on it. He quickly realized it had been left sitting in a humid area for far too long without care. The armor was fine, the weapon systems and connectors needed to be cleaned and the gaskets and seals needed to be replaced pretty much from top to bottom. The fact he had a full refurbish kit meant it was going to be a straight forward fix. He went to work on the harder areas to work on, taking full advantage of the repair gantry.

Almost two hours in, a very familiar deep voice interrupted him putting the head unit back on. “Neil Greyson Lockley!”

Neil smacked his head on the gantry as he spun, forcing him to grab at the side of his head.

Captain Tanner moved up quickly, “Oh, crap, sorry!”

Neil rubbed his head, “I’ll live, but sir, what are you doing here?”

“Me, I am here to try to talk some sense into your thick, and now dented skull.” Getting a giggle, Captain Tanner moved up and gave Neil a hug. “Boy, you scared the crap out of us.”

Neil accepted the hug, “I sent you a message, sir.”

“We know. We got them within minutes of you sending them. Your mom is freaking out, wants to beat your ass and kiss you. Your dad wants to beat your ass and buy you your first unit beer for not only getting CFC’ed but also getting a success on an AIM mission and finally making AIM hand something back. Major O’Connell wants to ring your neck, then pin on you new certs, and I just want to know what the hell made you think this was a good idea?”

“It’s not, sir, but Jessie is one of us… Is one of the few kids I have ever seen Robin like outside of the Grenadiers… this is for him, for them…”

“But you don’t even know if these Q VII morons know anything!”

“I know, sir, but what other shot is there? Every day, every hour, finding Jessie’s brother and sister gets harder makes the chances of finding them less and less, plus there are other Q VII cadets out there. I know the members of this unit don’t know much, but they may have heard something, or there may be something in their frames’ computers and I will be working on all of them.”

“Neil, you can’t do this alone.”

“Sir, I passed. By agreement, I will have the three Q VII kids they had under me. So I really won’t be out there alone…”

“And you trust this guy? He hooked up with Q VI!”

“Sir I know, but I have gotten to know him and while I know Lieutenant Polzin is kind of a jerk, he really isn’t bad. Their old lieutenant was, but I heard she didn’t make it thanks to Val.”

“We’re talking to Val, but still digging her out. She has confirmed the female lieutenant is very dead, though.”

“Sir, you can’t let Robin and Luna…”

“Oh, there is no way Valerie is going to be in any trouble with either of them, don’t you worry none. But are you really certain you want to do this?”

“Want to, no. Need to, yes. Jessie is a Grenadier, sir. His brother and sister are out there. We don’t abandon a fellow Grenadier.”

“We came damned close to having a four-way fist fight, but… Well shit, Neil…”

“Finn, sir, call me Finn. I don’t want any chance of anyone realizing I was in the Q VII academy…”

“OK, Finn it is. But, the next time you interrupt me I will make you see stars, got me?”

“Yes sir!” Neil gulped. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good, make sure you remember who you are talking to. Anyway, you already signed on, so fine, you get to be a Q Saber; stupid name by the way.”

Neil snickered, “Couldn’t agree more. It was picked by Anson Mining. They are the ones who got these guys the AIM listing and contract. You may want to let Iron Horn know and see if they will hire us to hit them back.”

“No us, you are a Q Saber. However, I like the way you think. The major may have just the perfect group to attempt such a raid.” Seeing Neil about to speak, Captain Tanner held up a hand to stop him. “You need to worry about you right now. But you ought to know by now the chances of us sending you out here alone is so far below zero, I don’t even think the number has been invented yet.”

“Sir?”

“Thanks to your commanding lieutenant wanting to change out three Bandit frames for something better suited for smaller pilots, and there not being any takers, we have wiggled in some help, and like it or not you are stuck with it. This is especially true since it took some quick maneuvering from Brave Humanities once your dad put his foot down, saying his son would never be allowed to back out on a contract. And like it or not you did sign a five to seven-month contract with the Q Sabers after you tested and had offers from several other merc units. Oh, and for the record, you will be known pretty much by every merc in this system.”

“Yeah, I noticed everyone knows me on sight, and I kind of figured Dad would be the most pissed off at me…”

“No, your mom and the major are pretty much tied for that. Your dad, angry, but real proud. And, Neil… Finn, so am I.”

“Thanks, sir. It means a lot to hear you say it.”

“Not just say it, mean it, but like it or not, we got you some help. I’ll make sure to pass on to the others your name is Finn.” Captain Tanner pulled Neil into his chest and kissed him on top of the head, “Now, finish up on your frame and come back to us. Oh, and bring the others back with you.”

“Others? What others?”

Captain Tanner poked Neil in a spot he knew the boy was particularly ticklish, then dug in, forcing the boy down to his knees. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Now stay safe and know we love you, all of us.”

By the time Neil got up, and looked around the bay was empty. With a shake of his head and a deep breath, he wiped some oil off his hands and went back to work on his Striker frame.

Neil finalized the seating of the back gasket when Trofin’s voice echoed in the nearly deserted repair bay, “Finn! You in here?”

Neil jumped down from the repair gantry, “Over here!”

Trofin moved up, “Start packing up and get the Striker back to our transports. We are supposed to ship out in a few hours.”

“I’ll be done in less than an hour. All the parts were there and no major damage.”

Before more could be said, Zane and Jasha poked their heads in. Zane put on a devious grin, “Hey, is this the kid who won the frame and is going to be our squad leader?”

Trofin nodded, “Sure is, boys. Finn, this is Zyden and Jasha. Jasha was a cadet at the same academy as the other three and Zyden, here, is his cousin and was sent to live with his cousin on Quaker VII after his whole unit was killed off on New Bravaria. Both were on the Wagon and are now orphaned. However, Jasha’s family paid for Combat Frame Cert tests with AIM before they fled the Quaker system. Both wanted to join a merc unit rather than being stuck in New Brunswick youth care. Brave Humanities, which helped with the rescue of most of the others, said they would change out some of our Bandit frames for some better ones if I gave these two a shot. It seems both helped save lives on one of the escape pods.”

“I don’t get it. Why give them to us?”

“They heard about you, the kids I agreed to put under you, and told me if I give them a shot they would let us leave the system.”

“Why would they care?”

“They were paid by someone to help with the rescue of the SFC and PLCs. By the way they read the contract, it included the elimination of those who did the deed. This also means Brave Humanities are the ones who came after the Quaker VI guys who brought my unit down here. Brave Humanities really isn’t giving me much of a choice. It was take these two and get some help from them exchanging out some frames, or have Brave Humanities hunt the Q Sabers down and eliminate us. They want these two to check-in and keep tabs on us, me really, to prove I really wasn’t part of the attack spacecraft and they let us live.”

“Hold on!” Neil shouted, “These two little jerk-wads are here to babysit us?”

“No,” Jasha spoke, “we are here to not go to some child home. You will be in charge of us. We just have to contact Brave Humanities and let them know this unit is a good one, not like the Quaker VI murderers. You let us join under you, they will give all of us some extra ammo, repair kits, and armor patches.”

Zane spoke up, “Come on, give us a shot. I got a BH CMBT number on New Bravaria too!”

“Bull-shit! You weren’t with our unit!”

Zane clenched his fist, “You think your unit had the only merc brats out in the field fighting Earth Core? Shit, they took out our camp with rippers! I lost almost everyone I knew in that attack! So screw you!”

Neil put on a nasty glare, “Oh, tough guy huh. We’ll my base was hit by those damned EC Comets with lava bombs. I watched half my friends run off into the forest with their bodies on fire. They even hit the damned school where the little kids were. Even as I fired with everything I could, I could hear the kids screaming. I’ll never get those screams out of my head!”

Jasha moved in between the two, “Whoa, guys, you were on same world, you fought same enemy. Don’t fight each other! We need to get going to the Tarvos system or we will miss our contract.”

“The Tarvos system?” Neil asked as he spat in Zane’s general direction.

Jasha shot Neil a nasty glare, even as he had to jump over and push Zane back. Neil gave Jasha a quick wink while looking over at Trofin, “Never heard of Tarvos.”

“Me neither, but it sits on the edge of FPA and EC space.” Trofin responded. “It’s claimed by both, but neither has established a government there. It has two marginally habitable planets Tarvos III and IV. We will be going to IV to pick up a couple of transports, then go into the edge of NFC territory to pick up their supply cache.” Trofin handed Neil a vid chip. “Here is the system briefing for Tarvos. Now I am going to leave you three alone, and when I get back you best all be on the same page, even if you are all a little bloody. Then you all need to get the other three out of lock-up and get them to sign up with me. You do, they get a Brave Humanities paid for frame each.”

Trofin then spun and looked at Zane, “Zyden, you agreed, as did Brave Humanities. You either accept Finn as your squad leader and do what he says, or you’re out and you lose your shot at a frame. Got me?”

“Yeah…” Zane grumbled, “Fine. I want to see what mister drone killer does in the real world, though.”

“He did just fine. He has a success as a part of an AIM rescue mission. You don’t have shit yet, so it is you, not Finn, who has something to prove. Also keep in mind, while you nailed the combat run with an eighty-eight, Finn did better. Now help him get his back-up frame ready and get you butts to the transports.”

Neil made sure Trofin was well out of earshot, “OK, give me a bloody lip and let me give you a black eye so we can keep this insanity believable. Then tell me what the hell you are doing here and how you only scored an eighty-eight.”

“The major told me not to go all out, so I got a worse score. I bet I could have gotten that stupid ninety-seven if I had been allowed and it’s your fault!” Zane complained as he popped Neil in the mouth. Before he could do more than grin, he took a really hard shot to his eye. Zane then backed off shaking his head to clear it. “Damn, really?”

“It has to look good now hit me in the mouth again, harder, but don’t break out a tooth.”

Neil recoiled from the hard shot and spit out some blood, “Better. Now what are you two doing here?”

“The major wanted you to have backup.” Zane stated as he picked up a wrench and pushed the cold metal up to his eye. “Sounded fun so I said I’d do it. My dad said no way, not after them taking in Jasha, so Jasha jumped in and said he wanted to go too. So you know my dad, open mouth once, OK, twice not such a good idea. He smacked me for trying to argue, then kicked both of our asses hard, sending us straight out the door. So here we are.”

“Only you would think this sounds like fun, Zyden. And both of you, I am Finn. Make sure you don’t slip-up. Now, what’s this mission and how long are we going to be there?”

Jasha responded, “We are going there to provide security to a group of mercs that got nailed in a raid. They were stripped of most of their equipment, but say they got some unit transports in mothballs on Tarvos and have a large stash of equipment they hid on some butt-hole world abandoned all the way back to the Machine Wars. Transport time should run about three to four months.”

“So we are going to escort a group of rich mercs to equipment stashes? We are going to trust them?”

“You got us stuck with a real green merc, dude, so yeah. But at least he is not being a total idiot. We are only taking the commander and ten others. They will do all the loading, and we will lock down the cargo. They are even paying for a Husky class PLC so we will be getting there in style.”

“And who is flying the Husky?”

Zane answered, “The Star Sliders. We worked with them on Tabeth XII back when we were still in the little kids’ room during combat missions on the ”Grey Stallion”. Brave Humanities checked on them. They have the same commander and the major knows the woman.

“The big unknown is this merc group we are working for. It’s commanded by a Captain Lomo. He is a brand new commander for what used to be some merc group called Baker’s Bandits, now call the Death’s Warriors since all of the Baker’s bloodline were wiped out in whatever raid it was. It’s weird, because the guy is new to AIM, and I’m told is missing a few fingers. His file is empty and just signed up and passed his Frame Combat Certs with over a ninety. The major says we need to keep an eye on them, but there is no reason to not take the mission. Brave Humanities is a little more skeptical, but can’t find a good counter point.”

Neil moved up and put his arms over the shoulders of Zane and Jasha, “Guys, thanks, but you do realize how crazy and stupid this is right?”

Zane openly laughed, “Of course I do! It’s why I wanted to do this!”

Kyle is a bit different than most of our other Authors. He wants feedback on his stories, but what he really wants is a critique of the story and chapter. What did he do right but more importantly, what did he do wrong? You may email him at: LeeColo at Gmail dot Com

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