On Silver Wings (2 page)

The computer instantly displayed the data on her right eye HUD, while the left lit up with a schematic of her body with system check status of all major systems, inside and out. Implants, armor, and basic equipment checked out clear, but her eyes were drawn to the power display settings.

Twenty two percent on her armor.

That was less than four hours at combat states, maybe a day if she didn’t use any of the carbon musculature chains or advanced sensors. She needed to find the rest of her equipment.

‘
Proc, locator pulse. Two hundred meter range. Initiate
.’

Her silent command was received and accepted by the implanted computer processor that rested just inside her rib cage, floating in the protection of her internal tissues and the surrounding cage of bone made up by her ribs, and acted upon. The low power pulse went out, sending a Radio Frequency Identification Pulse similar to the systems used in inventory management systems, and waited patiently for the reply.

A long list immediately appeared as her eyes glowed again, listing every piece of consumer electronics within two hundred meters, along with several items that appeared to be from widely scattered sources. Everything from children’s toys to farming equipment.

Those were interesting, in an abstract way, but what she was looking for were listed right on the top, in a totally separate category.

Inventory Report Results : Military Equipment

1X - Combat Helm - Assigned - Sergeant Sorilla Aida - MSIN# 2735639264

1X - M140 Assault Rifle - Assigned - Sergeant Sorilla Aida - MSIN# 2735639264

40X - 75Rnd Mag, 12.9mm SP-E - Assigned Sergeant Sorilla Aida - MSIN# 2735639264

1X - Field Charging Kit - Assigned - Sergeant Sorilla Aida - MSIN# 2735639264

3000X - 12.9mm SP-E Bulk Pack - Assigned - Sergeant Sorilla Aida - MSIN# 2735639264

The list went on, but she ignored it, flickering her eyes to select the military category, then demanded a positional lock from the display menus.

She had it within seconds.

Twenty meters, bearing fifteen degrees from magnetic North

Life Modeling software reported as many as five hundred people, but more likely under four hundred in the immediate area. Sorilla didn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved by that, however. It all depended, she supposed, on whether they were friend or foe. She would have to find that out quickly. Before that, however, she had to get her gear.

‘
Proc, Full Combat Power
.’

The suit didn’t hum, there was no external change in the equipment at all, but Sorilla felt the shift just the same. She looked up, eyes glowing a faint green as the display’s implanted in her cornea lit up with an infra-red overlay that rendered the interior with a daylight clarity, then added in the system’s analysis of the structure as well.

Neither she, nor her computer, thought much of the construction.

She rose to her feet, the carbon chains in her combat suit expanding to take up her weight, making her feel like she was almost weightless on her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her, but she again fought it off, and then was forced to manage with the pain in her ribcage as well.

‘
Proc, enable spinal shunt
.’

The subvocalized order seemed innocuous, but its effect was instantly felt as all sense of pain from her limbs and torso stopped like someone flipped a light switch. She straightened unconsciously; the weight of the pain lifting from her shoulders, then looked up.

The dizziness persisted, it was based above the spinal shunt after all, but she could deal. She’d have to. First step, get armed.

“Twenty meters, North by Northeast.” She whispered, dropping into a crouch as she raised her arm to shield her head. “Let’s go...”

She uncoiled like a snapping spring, rising into the air like a rocket from a tube, arms folded over her head, and struck the flimsy roof of the hut she was in with enough force to shatter the local wood into nothing more than splinters. Her feet touched down on the edge of the rooftop with an easy grace just as her now enhanced hearing began to pick up surprised voices.

“What the hell was...?”

“Look out!”

“It’s an attack!!”

She ignored the screaming, her mind plotting her next jump, then was airborne before her thoughts could catch up to her instincts. The twenty meters that separated her from her equipment was bridged in a single leap, her figure soaring through the low hanging jungle branches, snapping them aside with ease.

The target was another hut of similar construction, so she flexed her legs just before she landed, then snapped them out hard. The rooftop splintered under the blow, and Sorilla fell through amid the debris. She landed on the hard packed earthen floor, falling into a crouch as someone screamed, automatically pivoting in the direction of the sound.

Only a child.
She blinked, somewhat surprised as the young girl screamed again, and voices outside became more alarmed.

Sorilla ignored the girl, turning in the direction her HUD said her equipment was located, and instantly spotted the helm where it was resting on the equipment case she’d jumped with. She dropped to one knee, plucking the helmet up instantly as it opened up on its dual clamshell hinges, and fitting it over her face. The Helm snapped shut instantly, causing her to wince as she felt it pull at a stray strand of hair, so she twisted her head slightly to yank the offending follicle out by the root as she snapped both hands down to unlock her equipment case.

Her rifle was loaded and locked, so she swept it up into her arms as she rose to her feet and turned toward the door just as it burst open.

*****

The girl’s scream came from the central hut, what passed for a town hall since the invasion had driven them out of their homes. There were four men nearby and they ran for the hut, throwing the makeshift door open wide as they rushed in. Those that didn’t rush in waited, staring in mild, though not overwhelming, concern.

What had attacked them had never chosen to chase them into the jungle, and while there had been other scares they always turned out to be local animal life. Dangerous, but nothing that they weren’t equipped to handle.

That changed when the first man came flying back out through the wall, splintering the flimsy wooden construction of the hut like a toothpick toy. A woman screamed, more men rushed up, this time pausing to retrieve weapons, and the wall shattered open again as a second flew out through another section before the first had even touched the ground.

Yells erupted from inside the hut, and a child’s scream echoed again as the sentries rushed in with the rifles ready, the long guns against their shoulders as they paused at varying distances from the hut and waited.

Movement startled them, and a rifle went off as a figure in black stepped clear of the building, setting off a fusillade as they each opened up, recognizing that the figure was armed.

“Look out!”

“Run!”

*****

Combat Analysis Complete
, Sorilla read off her left corneal implant while the right fed her targeting data on the incoming shots even before they ricocheted off her armor.
Threat level negligible
.

Hunting rifles.
Sorrilla thought as she raised the muzzle of her battle rifle into the air, clearing its line of fire so she wouldn’t kill anyone accidentally. Her eyes flickered around to confirm the readings even as she calmly ignored a fifty caliber hunting slug that caromed off her helmet. It wouldn’t do to kill the people she was here to check up on, the thought of the paperwork that kind of incident would birth gave Sorilla shivers. She’d be behind a desk for months, even if she was cleared of wrongdoing.

Besides. the black and featureless mask that her helm presented to the wasn’t even remotely the weakest spot on the armor. The high powered civilian round did little more than scrape off some of the smoke gray residue of the ablative material she’d burned up on entry.

On the other hand, the impact of the round twisted her head minutely but sharply, crossing her eyes as even that small motion made her feel like her brains were ricocheting around the inside of her skull. Again, Sorilla found herself waging a battle against her own body as she forced down the desire to vomit and pass out. She squashed the feeling, burying it with the experience of having been in similar straights many times before. Time enough for puking later, she had a job to do.

She confirmed the scan by eye, quickly deciding that the computer was right in its deduction. The processors implanted in both her and her armor had analyzed the speed, composition, and sound of the incoming rounds and declared them to be civilian hunting rifles. Powerful enough to down any animal one might face, but not a match for military grade armor.

She kept the muzzle of the rifle up, left eye flickering to the power charge status of her armor as she held out her right hand in a gesture to stop. “Cease Fire!”

The fusillade of rifle rounds fell off after a moment, the men behind the weapons slowly raising their heads from the rifle butts, a look of wonder on their faces.

While she waited for them to stop shooting her, Sorilla’s right eye carefully noted the accuracy percentages while she made mental notes on what training they would require if she needed to turn them into a semi-decent militia.

Not bad,
She decided, noting that three of the five shooters had hit her with every shot. The other two had missed once apiece, but were further back by a factor of three and had missed only their initial shots.
Could be worse, could be better. Given that I wasn’t moving, I’d rather they didn’t miss at all…

The sound of shots were dying down, the echoes fading as she dropped her rifle, catching the weapon by the fore-stock and setting its butt against the ground. “Who’s in charge here?”

A moment passed, the fear and tension palpable, but finally a man with graying hair stepped out of a nearby hut.

“That would be me,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Sorilla’s gaze took him in, sizing him up by eye even as her processors took electronic stock of him. He was probably around his fifty-fifth percentile, about 112 Solar years, though her programs read him as sixty-eighth percentile. The Computers often misjudged ages on colony worlds, their software unreliable when a sun weathered face was presented to them. He was fit, both she and her processors agreed on that, and her electronics told her that his heart was beating fast but steady and strong, so he wasn’t prone to panic.

He had no implants, at least none that responded to a RIF request, but that wasn’t as unusual out here on a colony world as it would be back home. Implants were both expensive and required extensive medical expertise to properly insert, and while they were normally good for a lifetime, having that medical expertise available in case of emergency was highly recommended.

Her system flashed names and faces of known colony personnel across her left eye, but he didn’t match up with anyone. Again, not a surprise since, unfortunately, colony records were a little more spotty than she might have hoped for. Hayden’s world was a second gen colony, working on its third generation. The man she was facing had probably been born here, she decided, and no one had bothered to update the files.

“Your name, Sir?” She asked, keeping her tone crisp and respectful, like she was talking to a keyboard cowboy Colonel who might take offense at any perceived relaxation of discipline.

He stopped about twenty feet from her, blocking the line of fire of at least one of his men. She made a note of it to bring up later.

“Samuel,” He told her. “My name is Samuel Becker. Who are you?”

“Sergeant Sorrilla Aida, US Army Special Forces, currently assigned to Fleet SOCOM out of Earth Space,” she replied.

There was a pause as the words sank in to the people who had begun to timidly reappear from the huts around them.

“The fleet is here!?”

“Is there a rescue party!?”

“Where are the rest?”

The man who called himself Samuel held up his hand, his face grim, “Let her speak.”

Sorilla nodded to him gratefully, then tuned her suit systems so everyone would hear her. “The fleet is holding outside the heliopause, waiting on intel. There is no rescue party yet, we have been unable to acquire any scans of the planet, or detect any transmissions from the surface. Everything we’ve used beyond basic optics have been jammed. I’m here to find out what is happening, and prepare a report for Fleet Command.”

“We’ve been damned well invaded! That’s what’s happening!”

She ignored the yell, feeling another wave of dizziness sweep over her as she stood there, relying on the powered components of her suit’s artificial muscles to hold her upright. Even so, something must have been visible to the outside observer because Samuel snapped his fingers.

“Tara! Help her.”

A redheaded woman rushed forward, ignoring the threat of Sorilla’s weapon and took a hold of her elbow. “You shouldn’t be up. I checked you when you were brought in... you are the same woman right?”

The woman’s smile was mildly sarcastic, but appeared mostly harmless. Sorilla smiled back, though her blank helm relayed none of the warm gesture and showed on the same anonymous cold exterior.

“Yeah. And I know. Concussion, some fractured ribs, and lots of heavy bruising. I’ll heal.” She told the red head.

“I’m sure you will,” Tara replied, “However you’ll heal better laying down.”

“All the same thing in a suit,” Sorilla responded, but she allowed herself to be led back to the hut she had woken in.

“Alright, everyone... back to what you were doing,” Samuel clapped his hands behind her, “You’ll all be apprised of the situation just as soon as we find out ourselves!”

*****

Concussions were a stone cold bitch.

Sorilla couldn’t move by the second day, her head was nothing more than a mass of pain that throbbed with each beat of her heart. The home grown bacteria in her bloodstream that poured energy and nanoscopic care into her body was rapidly healing everything else, but the process was only making the head trauma worse for the moment.