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Forty four - EARTH (DIVIDED)
A tone warbled, James gave a war whoop, and the plane flipped onto its back. There was no way to tell whether the officer had a reason for flying that way or simply wanted to.
Luton, still strapped into his chair, felt his feet flip over his head. A stylus feel out of his pocket and clattered to the floor. The infantry officer felt the chair jerk, knew air to surface missiles had been launched, and heard James' casual drawl. "Blue Six to Blue Leader. Feet dry, enemy engage. Over". "That's a roger, Blue Six. You are green for target one-niner-four. Do your shit. Over". The Lance flipped right side up, shuddered in response to a near miss, and jerked as two additional flights of ASMs raced toward a preselected target. The sticks continued to pound out their rhythm. Luton forced himself to think, to switch himself away, to "ride" someone else. He was a platoon leader this time. The hard metal seat slammed intoRelated chapter
HALF BREED Forty five - EARTH (DIVIDED)
The flight of six Daggers entered the stratosphere, shed heat from their specially designed skins, and bumped through the quickly warming air.Salom checked her heads up display, saw more red deltas than she cared to look at, but was grateful for the fact that they were still below. That was an advantage she was happy to have. The naval officer had targets, plenty of them, which meant they had her as well. Why no response, then? Were they blind?A voice sounded in her helmet. It was confident, verging on smug. "Victor One to incoming Daggers. Welcome to the party. Over".Salom marveled at her luck. The idiot assumed she was friendly! Not surprising, given the circle jerk up in orbit... but not very smart either. Her pilots followed as the naval officer rolled to starboard and dived towards the aircraft below. "Blue One to Victor One. Thanks for the hospitality".Victor One watched the delta-shaped icons roll in behind his formation, heard
HALF BREED Forty six - EARTH (DIVIDED)
The technician entered, started to say something, and Luton waved him off.He waited for the numbers, not wanting to hear them, but knowing that he must. The preliminary report was even worse than he had feared. Fully fifty percent of Assault Team Victor was killed in action, wounded in action, or missing in action.Was Sandral Usmos at fault, for withholding the resources he needed? Or was he to blame, for attempting too much? The answer seemed obvious. The burden was heavy.* * *Marco left the sit room the moment the mutineers cleared the coast. He summoned a Trooper II, climbed onto the cyborg's back, and strapped himself in. The helmet jack entered a panel provided for that purpose. "Take me to the landing Zone located near Boi Vawa. Condition five, assault speed".The cyborg said, "Sir. Yes, sir", and started to jog. Marco could remember when the sideways, up and down motion had made him nauseous, but that was a long time ag
HALF BREED Forty seven - IN SPACE
Jyro peered around the corner, confirmed that the passageway was clear, and consulted his data pad, or more accurately Pardo's data pad, since the eighty year old device still worked and the skeleton had no use for it.Once the prospector had established a reasonable secure home, and moved Pardo's supplies to the new location, he redirected his attention.The vessel was big, but how big? Who constructed the ship, and why? Where was it headed? This was the sort of knowledge that would enable him escape.The first step was to create a map, and that's where the data pad came in. By taking copious notes, and marking each intersection with a self-invented system of coordinations, the human had established a fairly good idea of the ship's layout. He entered the latest findings and used blue spray paint to write "D-44" on the steel bulkhead.The Shem mother ship, if that's what the vessel could properly be called, was shaped like a Flava fruit, except that it had an eno
HALF BREED Forty eight - IN SPACE
There was very little to do. Some of the inmates reacted to this by engaging in what seemed like endless squabbles. Others, especially the less sociable types, became morose and withdrawn. A few, Herbert included, plotted and planned. Not that the activity did them much good, since the storage module was virtually escapeproof, a fact that the navcomp had verified by countless excursions, experiments, and observations. No, the only way to leave was to be summoned by the Hoon, and escorted out of the module by one of the blimplike Hoon agents.Green lightening zigzagged across the grid, and the ground gave birth to a mountain. Herbert could do nothing, but wait. * * * The moment had finally arrived. By waiting till the prey entered one of the metal caves, then racing ahead, the Worgan had established an ambush. His quarry would pass directly below. He would drop, right himself in midair, and smother the biped's movement. There would be no opportunity for
HALF BREED Forty nine - EARTH (DIVIDED)
The village blacksmith waited for the farmer to inspect the newly healed metal, accepted payment with a courtly bow, and watched the tractor growl away. Ancient though the equipment was, the blacksmith was even older, and more machine than man.Marcus Doug Douglas had played many roles throughout his long and rather productive life, including those of son, brother, husband, father, uncle, friend, industrialist, politician, strategist, artist, and for the last six decades, village blacksmith.His biological body had died years before, which explained why, with the notable exempting of his brain and some spinal cord, the rest of Doug Douglas was synthetic. Nor was this the first such body. After being forced to occupy a blue eyed monstrosity immediately after his "death", the businessman had commissioned bodies that looked a lot like the original had. Pleasant but portly. His Asian-Parsian ancestors would have been proud.Not only of the body in which he had chosen to d
HALF BREED Fifty one - EARTH (DIVIDED)
Peaches saw the executive's discomfort and felt a strange sense of superiority. She participated in the horror because she was too afraid to say no. Quinn did it for personal gain. That made her the better person. Didn't it?Quinn turned his back to the video. "So? I asked for a report, but a tour of some god damned gravel pit! Where the hell is she?"A muscle twitched in Baba's cheek. Voice presidents come and vice presidents go. God help this son of a bitch if he ever fell out of favor. "Yes, sir. Take a look at the woman. Notice how they wear scraps of red and blue?"Quinn hadn't noticed but was not going to admit it. "Of course. What's your point?""The point", Peaches said patiently, "is that gangs have formed. The reds and the blues"."Representing those why support us and those who don't", Quinn said brightly."No", Baba replied. "I'm afraid not". The words "dumb shit" went unsaid but were clear nonetheless."Then
HALF BREED Fifty - EARTH (DIVIDED)
A third screen, which registered nothing but snow, was hooked to the company's communication network - a fully encrypted system that enabled Doug Douglas to communicate with offices all around the world. Although some of his staff had been arrested and placed in prison, the vast majority had escaped, and were back in business. Afterall, what is a company beyond the people who run it? Records? Those were duplicated and sent off-prem once every fifteen minutes. Processes? There were backups for those as well. The company had been attacked before.So, in spite of the fact that the mutineers had cost him some money, and that Zuon Inc. had obtained some valuable intelligence, Doug Douglas was very much alive.The blacksmith sat at the ancient desk and started to type. Not because he had to, but because he enjoyed the kinesthetic feedback.Thousands of miles away, in the basement of an old church, words jerked across a screen. Kenny read them and grinned. It seemed that the myste
HALF BREED Fifty two - EARTH (DIVIDED)
The pilot, a man named Hudson, was none too happy. The mission had screw up written all over it. A clipboard was velcroed to Hudson's right thigh. He checked the printout for the tenth time. The lights were dim to protect his vision, but the orange ink continued to glow. The instructions were clear. He was to land near Hugo, pick up an passenger, and haul butt. All without alerting the mutineers.Of course, that wasn't the worst of it, not by a long shot. Assuming the orders were correct, and not the ravings of a suit gone mad, the person he was supposed to collect was listed as Citizen Doug Douglas, as in Marcus Doug Douglas, a man who had disappeared more than fifty years ago and should be dead.The navcomp beeped softly and projected a map onto the windscreen's inside surface. The transport was five miles from the LZ and closing fast.Hudson pushed a thought through the neutral interface, felt the speed drop by fifty percent, and directed power to the bow-mounted searchl
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