As a follow up to the first preview of the second book in my upcoming Mil-SF mecha series, here’s another early look at Combat Frame XSeed: Coalition Year 40.
Second Lieutenant Theodore Red had a man to kill. He
adopted a brisk but casual pace as he debarked from the Argyre shuttle to Hansa
Station’s bustling concourse. Should be
plenty of time to finish the op and catch the Brussels Air Base transport,
he thought as he joined the chattering flow of spacefarers bound for Western
Europe. He tried not to think about which of the unsuspecting men, women, and
children were sharing a transport with his target.
adopted a brisk but casual pace as he debarked from the Argyre shuttle to Hansa
Station’s bustling concourse. Should be
plenty of time to finish the op and catch the Brussels Air Base transport,
he thought as he joined the chattering flow of spacefarers bound for Western
Europe. He tried not to think about which of the unsuspecting men, women, and
children were sharing a transport with his target.
Red scanned the overhead screens advertising earthside Soc
businesses between condescending PSAs. He ignored the perky stewardess’
emergency spacesuit demo and left the white-tiled concourse for a men’s room on
his right. A middle-aged man in a charcoal business suit swept out of the
restroom and nearly bumped into Red. The older man took one look at Red’s blue
CDF uniform, stood aside, and saluted as the Lieutenant passed.
businesses between condescending PSAs. He ignored the perky stewardess’
emergency spacesuit demo and left the white-tiled concourse for a men’s room on
his right. A middle-aged man in a charcoal business suit swept out of the
restroom and nearly bumped into Red. The older man took one look at Red’s blue
CDF uniform, stood aside, and saluted as the Lieutenant passed.
Dumb civilian must think I fought the Kazoku
myself. He was probably a toddler during the war.
The Earth Sphere had seen little warfare in the four decades since Megami’s
coup. Besides a few skirmishes in Europe and Naryal’s manhunts for leftover
Kazoku, most of the conflict had come from grounders protesting the Socs’
aggressive expansion on Earth. And the Socs had quashed dissent without firing
a shot.
myself. He was probably a toddler during the war.
The Earth Sphere had seen little warfare in the four decades since Megami’s
coup. Besides a few skirmishes in Europe and Naryal’s manhunts for leftover
Kazoku, most of the conflict had come from grounders protesting the Socs’
aggressive expansion on Earth. And the Socs had quashed dissent without firing
a shot.
At people.
Raining space rocks
on Earth’s breadbaskets might’ve been fighting dirty, but it got the job done.
The lesson wasn’t lost on the HLO. The earth-based cells were waging covert
terror campaigns on Soc officials too clueless to realize they were facing
organized resistance. Red’s handlers were sending him to join his Human
Liberation Organization comrades, but first they wanted him to show a
particular Soc official the cost of complacency.
on Earth’s breadbaskets might’ve been fighting dirty, but it got the job done.
The lesson wasn’t lost on the HLO. The earth-based cells were waging covert
terror campaigns on Soc officials too clueless to realize they were facing
organized resistance. Red’s handlers were sending him to join his Human
Liberation Organization comrades, but first they wanted him to show a
particular Soc official the cost of complacency.
Red passed a mirror reflecting the hair that had inspired
his handle and the violet eyes that often drew comment. He ducked into a
brushed steel stall. Automated air freshener made it smell like artificial
lemonade someone had peed in. He pulled his handheld from his inside jacket
pocket and checked his messages. As promised, a new encrypted missive blinked
on his screen. Red entered the decryption key, and the message’s contents
revealed themselves.
his handle and the violet eyes that often drew comment. He ducked into a
brushed steel stall. Automated air freshener made it smell like artificial
lemonade someone had peed in. He pulled his handheld from his inside jacket
pocket and checked his messages. As promised, a new encrypted missive blinked
on his screen. Red entered the decryption key, and the message’s contents
revealed themselves.
Target has changed flights.
Boarded shuttle leaving for Munich in six minutes. Commence operation
immediately.
Boarded shuttle leaving for Munich in six minutes. Commence operation
immediately.
“Dammit,” Red cursed as he stuffed the handheld back
inside his jacket. Had the target made him? With any other Soc, Red would have
dismissed the last-minute change as coincidence. But Malov Strauss wasn’t any
other Soc. According to his HLO file, the new Assistant Customs Director showed
the kind of intuition and nonlinear thinking that could endanger the Brussels
cell. It was Red’s job to nip the problem in the bud.
inside his jacket. Had the target made him? With any other Soc, Red would have
dismissed the last-minute change as coincidence. But Malov Strauss wasn’t any
other Soc. According to his HLO file, the new Assistant Customs Director showed
the kind of intuition and nonlinear thinking that could endanger the Brussels
cell. It was Red’s job to nip the problem in the bud.
Better get nipping.
Red burst from the restroom and rushed down the concourse, taking advantage of
his uniform to navigate the crowd. Some of the civilian travelers stopped and
babbled nervously to each other about a conjectural emergency.
Red burst from the restroom and rushed down the concourse, taking advantage of
his uniform to navigate the crowd. Some of the civilian travelers stopped and
babbled nervously to each other about a conjectural emergency.
I’ll show you an
emergency, thought Red. He veered down a side corridor that led to a
security door reserved for official use. The A.I. in his pocket got him through
the unmanned checkpoint. He hurried through the sliding lithium glass doors,
confident that no trace of his entry would remain.
emergency, thought Red. He veered down a side corridor that led to a
security door reserved for official use. The A.I. in his pocket got him through
the unmanned checkpoint. He hurried through the sliding lithium glass doors,
confident that no trace of his entry would remain.
The passageway led out of the station’s rotating main hub,
and Red left simulated gravity behind. He drifted down the gray-paneled
corridor with the ease of one used to maneuvering in space. The harsh LED
lighting gave way to intermittent wall lamps whose circles of illumination
barely overlapped. Oxygen scrubbers gave the concourse a pervasive sterile
scent, but in the utility passage, oily machine smells prevailed.
and Red left simulated gravity behind. He drifted down the gray-paneled
corridor with the ease of one used to maneuvering in space. The harsh LED
lighting gave way to intermittent wall lamps whose circles of illumination
barely overlapped. Oxygen scrubbers gave the concourse a pervasive sterile
scent, but in the utility passage, oily machine smells prevailed.
Rows of molded plastic lockers lined the walls at regular
intervals. Red used his handheld to open one without triggering the safety
alarm and removed a plain-looking but functional emergency spacesuit. He
slipped the baggy one-piece garment on over his clothes, locked the helmet, and
glided down the hall.
intervals. Red used his handheld to open one without triggering the safety
alarm and removed a plain-looking but functional emergency spacesuit. He
slipped the baggy one-piece garment on over his clothes, locked the helmet, and
glided down the hall.
Voices approached from the T intersection directly ahead.
Red slipped down a connecting corridor on his right. Luckily, it would take him
to the auxiliary maintenance bay, where the tools of his trade waited.
Red slipped down a connecting corridor on his right. Luckily, it would take him
to the auxiliary maintenance bay, where the tools of his trade waited.
The reinforced door at the end of the hallway hissed open
as Red—or rather his handheld—approached. He ventured into the murky area
beyond. The door sealed itself behind him, shutting out the low reactor thrum
he hadn’t noticed until it was gone.
as Red—or rather his handheld—approached. He ventured into the murky area
beyond. The door sealed itself behind him, shutting out the low reactor thrum
he hadn’t noticed until it was gone.
A room the size of a small warehouse stretched out around
Red. Just below the high ceiling, a catwalk ran along the dingy walls and
terminated at a ten-meter-tall bay door. Halfway between it and Red, a metal
giant crouched, facing the right wall.
Red. Just below the high ceiling, a catwalk ran along the dingy walls and
terminated at a ten-meter-tall bay door. Halfway between it and Red, a metal
giant crouched, facing the right wall.
Crouched wasn’t
quite right, since the giant lacked legs. Instead it sported a pair of booster
nacelles to supplement the standard thruster array on its back. The nacelles
were folded under its vaguely humanoid cobalt blue body, giving the rough
impression of a roosting underfed jay.
quite right, since the giant lacked legs. Instead it sported a pair of booster
nacelles to supplement the standard thruster array on its back. The nacelles
were folded under its vaguely humanoid cobalt blue body, giving the rough
impression of a roosting underfed jay.
“A Guardian,” sighed Red. His handler had promised to have
a combat frame waiting for him in the hangar. A Grenzmark III might’ve been
asking too much, but he’d at least hoped for a sturdy old Grenzmark II. Saddling
him with one of the Customs Bureau’s balsa wood patrol units made a kind of
practical sense. No one would question its presence at a major travel hub. But
something military—even surplus—would better suit an assassination.
a combat frame waiting for him in the hangar. A Grenzmark III might’ve been
asking too much, but he’d at least hoped for a sturdy old Grenzmark II. Saddling
him with one of the Customs Bureau’s balsa wood patrol units made a kind of
practical sense. No one would question its presence at a major travel hub. But
something military—even surplus—would better suit an assassination.
No sense complaining. He had a job to do, and the clock
was ticking.
was ticking.
Red skipped the ladder and leapt from the zero-g bay floor
to the catwalk abutting the Guardian’s chest. He hit the cockpit release. The
hatch retracted to reveal a mini-jetpack lying on the seat. Red strapped it on
and jumped into the cockpit’s tight confines. His hands flew over the Coalition
standard controls. The hatch closed, and the bay door opened. In moments, he
had the glorified police cruiser powered up and speeding through space.
to the catwalk abutting the Guardian’s chest. He hit the cockpit release. The
hatch retracted to reveal a mini-jetpack lying on the seat. Red strapped it on
and jumped into the cockpit’s tight confines. His hands flew over the Coalition
standard controls. The hatch closed, and the bay door opened. In moments, he
had the glorified police cruiser powered up and speeding through space.
Despite the Guardian’s general inadequacy, at least the
space-use version was reasonably fast, though Red firmly adhered to the design
doctrine that fast could always be faster. The CF’s sole fixed weapons—a pair
of 30mm Vulcans—were another problem. He might as well try taking the military
shuttle down with a popgun.
space-use version was reasonably fast, though Red firmly adhered to the design
doctrine that fast could always be faster. The CF’s sole fixed weapons—a pair
of 30mm Vulcans—were another problem. He might as well try taking the military
shuttle down with a popgun.
To Red’s relief, his handler had outfitted the Guardian with single-shot missile launcher. A note in the launcher’s weapons
inventory entry read, “Discard immediately after use.”
inventory entry read, “Discard immediately after use.”
Red put eight klicks between himself and the station to
stay out of sight but just within the missile’s maximum range. He turned right
and came about in a wide arc to face the Munich gate. A thrill raced up his
spine when he saw Malov’s shuttle still docked with the white tube of the
spacebridge.
stay out of sight but just within the missile’s maximum range. He turned right
and came about in a wide arc to face the Munich gate. A thrill raced up his
spine when he saw Malov’s shuttle still docked with the white tube of the
spacebridge.
Hansa station hung in the void between Red and the mottled
blue sphere of Earth. He drew the missile launcher from the Guardian’s back
rack and gripped it in both the CF’s hands. Using active sensors would give him
away, so he’d have to make the shot without benefit of fire control. Smooth
motions of the control stick traced his targeting reticle over the white,
two-wheeled axle of the station. Red fixed his sights on the shuttle, exhaled,
and took the shot.
blue sphere of Earth. He drew the missile launcher from the Guardian’s back
rack and gripped it in both the CF’s hands. Using active sensors would give him
away, so he’d have to make the shot without benefit of fire control. Smooth
motions of the control stick traced his targeting reticle over the white,
two-wheeled axle of the station. Red fixed his sights on the shuttle, exhaled,
and took the shot.
Red would have hit the target if he hadn’t aimed a couple of degrees too high. The missile zoomed over the cigar-shaped transport and
detonated on the station’s central hub in a bright orange ball of burning gas.
detonated on the station’s central hub in a bright orange ball of burning gas.
Red slammed his fists against his seat’s armrests. “Damn
it!”
it!”
A bright flash and a violent tremor that jarred his teeth
punctuated Red’s curse. The single-use missile launcher had self-detonated in
his Guardian’s now mangled hands. He cast about for another way—any way—to
complete his mission.
punctuated Red’s curse. The single-use missile launcher had self-detonated in
his Guardian’s now mangled hands. He cast about for another way—any way—to
complete his mission.
The shuttle pulled away from the station and picked up
speed. In mere moments it would fly out of reach.
speed. In mere moments it would fly out of reach.
An idea emerged from Red’s shock. He set an intercept
course with the fleeing shuttle on a ten-second delay, rigged the Guardian’s
reactor to overload, and bailed out. His safety harness dug into his chest as
the ejector seat’s explosive charge propelled him into space. He released
himself from the chair, engaged his jetpack, and spun about in time to witness
the overloading Guardian collide with the shuttle amidships. A blinding explosion
erased both vehicles.
course with the fleeing shuttle on a ten-second delay, rigged the Guardian’s
reactor to overload, and bailed out. His safety harness dug into his chest as
the ejector seat’s explosive charge propelled him into space. He released
himself from the chair, engaged his jetpack, and spun about in time to witness
the overloading Guardian collide with the shuttle amidships. A blinding explosion
erased both vehicles.
Messy, thought
Red, but effective. His
nitrogen-propelled flight back to Hansa Station gave him ample time to bask in
his success. Those student dissidents on Earth might have disgraced a Fel
bureaucrat or two, but not even they had assassinated a Soc official. I’ll show them how it’s done.
Red, but effective. His
nitrogen-propelled flight back to Hansa Station gave him ample time to bask in
his success. Those student dissidents on Earth might have disgraced a Fel
bureaucrat or two, but not even they had assassinated a Soc official. I’ll show them how it’s done.
Red slipped back onto Hansa through a neglected airlock.
The chaos gripping the station made it easy. Every emergency spacesuit had
sprung from its locker like a pale, bubble-faced jack-in-the-box.
Adults—already suited as per safety protocol—fumbled to suit up their crying
children as the harsh light strips flickered.
The chaos gripping the station made it easy. Every emergency spacesuit had
sprung from its locker like a pale, bubble-faced jack-in-the-box.
Adults—already suited as per safety protocol—fumbled to suit up their crying
children as the harsh light strips flickered.
Missile must’ve hit
the main reactor, thought Red, who’d blown his borrowed suit out the
airlock. Ignoring protocol would be easier to explain than being caught in a
spacesuit pilfered from maintenance.
the main reactor, thought Red, who’d blown his borrowed suit out the
airlock. Ignoring protocol would be easier to explain than being caught in a
spacesuit pilfered from maintenance.
“Lieutenant!”
Red followed the gruff voice to another blue-uniformed
figure standing out amid the crush of white-clad humanity. The uniform’s broad
shoulders bore captain’s bars, and the man whose bronze-skinned head sat on
those shoulders was gesturing toward a gate behind him.
figure standing out amid the crush of white-clad humanity. The uniform’s broad
shoulders bore captain’s bars, and the man whose bronze-skinned head sat on
those shoulders was gesturing toward a gate behind him.
“Emergency evac for military personnel,” said the Captain.
“Shuttle leaves in two minutes. Move your ass!”
“Shuttle leaves in two minutes. Move your ass!”
Red joined the steady flow of CDF members boarding the
shuttle. The colorful upholstery, the residual smell of alcohol, and ads for
Earth consumer goods betrayed its origins as a civilian transport commandeered
for military use.
shuttle. The colorful upholstery, the residual smell of alcohol, and ads for
Earth consumer goods betrayed its origins as a civilian transport commandeered
for military use.
A sergeant standing at the head of the cabin barked
instructions for each man to take the first available seat starting from the
front. Red slid into an empty aisle seat on the left. Only after buckling up
did he notice that the man seated next to him was wearing a midnight blue
business suit instead of a uniform. His golden head of hair was combed back in
a fashion more befitting a junior executive than a soldier.
instructions for each man to take the first available seat starting from the
front. Red slid into an empty aisle seat on the left. Only after buckling up
did he notice that the man seated next to him was wearing a midnight blue
business suit instead of a uniform. His golden head of hair was combed back in
a fashion more befitting a junior executive than a soldier.
The blond man neatly folded a newspaper bearing the
headline “Western Europe Region Governor Resigns” and laid it on his lap. He
fixed his piercing blue eyes on Red. “You’re wondering if I’m a civilian
stowaway. I’m with Customs. My last shuttle exploded.”
headline “Western Europe Region Governor Resigns” and laid it on his lap. He
fixed his piercing blue eyes on Red. “You’re wondering if I’m a civilian
stowaway. I’m with Customs. My last shuttle exploded.”
Red’s stomach lurched as if he’d suddenly gone weightless
again.
“Where are my manners?” The blond man extended his hand.
“Malov Strauss. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant.”
again.
“Where are my manners?” The blond man extended his hand.
“Malov Strauss. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant.”
Combat Frame XSeed officially launches next month! Indiegogo backers, you can expect your print editions soon!
It depresses me to see the forces of evil and tyranny continue to score victory after victory.
OTOH, we see that every day in this fallen world, but we have the sure and certain knowledge, not even hope, that Christ is triumphant.
And now I want to see what the Guardian looks like. One thing that I really enjoy is that you make the mecha real, descriptions, actions, everything in detail rather than just glossing over them as existing.
Also like the 2001: A Space Odyssey picture.
Arthur tired of seeing tyrants basking in victory, as well. His remedy may give you pangs of pity for the Socs.
"Also like the 2001: A Space Odyssey picture."
Glad you approve. I'd never seen that poster before, but it matches my conception of Hansa Station quite well.
"His remedy may give you pangs of pity for the Socs."
It may. I doubt it, though. Theoden puts it well: We shall have peace. We shall have peace… when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace.
Or in an older tradition: Fīat jūstitia ruat cælum.
You could argue that the Socs are hostis humani generis, like pirates and slavers.
…it's probably a good thing that I am not a ruler.
"Fīat jūstitia ruat cælum."
A fitting quote.
…it's probably a good thing that I am not a ruler
Disagree D.J., I like the cut of your jib.
Related to the pic: the concept art of Robert McCall and Ralph McQuarrie got me interested in lots of SF properties, though the properties themselves always let me down in the end. Both men did some amazing work. Here's McCall's site that his daughter runs now that he has passed: Robert McCall Studios website.
2001 is appropriate for Clarke's nihilistic outlook on the future of humanity. Always felt like I needed a shower after reading his stuff.
The Campbell-era authors were blessed with artists whose vision and love of beauty far surpassed their own. Clarke didn't deserve McCall.
Thanks for the link!
Wow,
What beautiful art!
I look forward to new artists illustrating the indie books with the same love of beauty as their predecessors
xavier