Warrior Mates: A SciFi Romance

Chapter 1

Kim

Dart star fighters thunder and crackle overhead as they streak toward the fortified bunker/hill the Ataxians have held for the last three days despite gallons of our blood soaking into the grassy incline. From my vantage point, crouched behind a twisted metal bulwark which still glows from a recent incendiary mortar, I watch as they’re shot down one after another by the flak cannons booming on top of the hill.

Grimly, I stare at the debris as it streaks toward the ground, dark spots in stark relief against the ironically cheerful blue of the sky. Maximo is very similar to Earth in terms of ecology, though about six times the size.

Its abundant natural resources, and its prime strategic location between Titanus Vox and Antares, have made it a fierce battleground between the combined IHC/Alliance forces and the nigh unstoppable hordes of the Coalition.

Our orders are to take that hill. So long as those flak cannons remain in place, it’s impossible to deploy aircraft for assault or withdrawal purposes. We’ve been trapped in this valley for over a week, waiting on an airlift that never came because the Ataxians hold this hill.

So we’re going out the hard way. 

I glance over at the others of my unit, the AIOC #475, or as we like to call ourselves, the Lunatics. Our staff sergeant was a woman named Luna, hence the name. Was. She died yesterday, leaving me in command of the six remaining IHC power armor soldiers.

A week ago there were thirty of us.

“What’s the sitrep, Chase?” asks Donnell, a rookie on his first deployment. His black class four hard armor is covered with silver scrapes and dents, much like mine. But it still functions. Just like mine.

“Bad. They took out the entire squadron of Darts.” I turn to my Alliance liason officer, Moa. As  Vakutan, he stands almost two feet taller than I, from the bottom of his black boots to the top of his ridged skull. Midnight blue scales adorn his muscular body, and as strange as it seems, he has the prettiest lavender eyes.

“Moa, can you get us some more air support?” I ask.

He licks his lips, and I can tell from the grim set of his jaw it’s a long shot. But he obligingly gets on his comm for the attempt.

I try not to stare while he speaks with the Alliance commander a few clicks over the foothills to the south. It’s hard, though, because Moa is a very handsome exemplar of the Vakutan sapient species. If it weren’t for my condition, I’d be able to do more than just admire him with my eyes.

Moa speaks, breaking me out of my reverie.

“I’m sorry, Corporal,” he says tightly. “There just aren’t any ships to spare at the moment.”

I spit off into the weeds and swear. It’s what I expected, but I’m not happy anyway.

“Can you get me a bird’s eye view of things, at least? Try and pick an approach up the counterslope that doesn’t leave us sitting ducks?”

Moa seems eager to do something useful. He’s taken great pains to endear himself to our unit, and me in particular. I might even say we’re on our way to being friends. 

“Tally.” He speaks into a wrist mounted receiver, and a moment later a silver winged shape zips down out of the blue sky and perches upon a specialized gauntlet on his opposite arm. The AI drone resembles a feathered avian, minus the feathers of course. Its hooked beak is for more than just show, as are the small energy cannon underneath its wings.

“Tally, trailblazing mode for infantry units, please. Get Kim safely up that miniature mountain.”

“Affirmative,” answers the electronic voice of the little drone. As it speeds off into the sky, I turn toward Moa and arch an eyebrow.

“Why do you always says ‘please’ to your bot? It’s not like it cares about pleasantries.”

“Tally’s pretty smart, and anyway, I care about pleasantries.” His toothy grin takes my breath away. Oh, if only. If only. I would rock your world, Moa.

“Fair enough.” I glance over at my unit. “Hang loose here, people. I’m going to check on our Lieutenant.”

I pick my way further down the slope, leaving our FEBA (forward edge of the battlefield for you civvies) behind to reach the more fortified defensive force wall at the bottom of the slope.

The grunts guarding it don’t speak, they just hit the switch and disable the field in a small enough section for me to pass through. Inside the walls of our base camp lie more than a hundred wounded, including our former medical officer.

Fortunately, the nearby Alliance forces were gracious enough to lend us a medic in the form of B’uk. B’uk is big for a Pi’Rell—really big. As big as a Vakutan, maybe even pushing into Odex territory. He’s a mountain of a man who seems like he’d rip you in half without even trying. And he probably could, but he chose to heal bodies rather than break them.

I see him squatting down next to a shrouded figure, shaking his bald head. As I stride up with a whirring of servo motors, he turns to face me. Normally B’uk is quick with a smile and his brand of gallows humor, but the tight lipped grimace on his visage now sends chills down my spine.

“Corporal Chase,” he says, inclining his chin by way of greeting. “How goes the taking of Chocolate Hill?”

I named it. I’ve got an addiction, okay? Since I lost my tactile senses, food is the only thing I can still experience on a physical level.

“Not good. We lost our entire Dart squadron and there’s no more available. I’m tired of command, Doctor B’uk. Please tell me that the Lieutenant is fit for return to duty.”

B’uk glances down at the shrouded figure, then back up at me and shakes his head.

“Sorry, Princess. I wish I could do that, but this is your Lieutenant right here. I did all I could.”

“First of all, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I snap. “I’m not a Companion any more. I’m a soldier. Get it?”

My expression softens, and I even rest a hand on his shoulder. I should point out that B’uk is as tall as I am on my feet while he’s kneeling.

“Second…I know you did all you could. You’re a good man who cares, and it shows.”

His blue cheeks stretch in a nervous grin. B’uk relishes my attention for some reason, and I confess to using it to my advantage, such as getting the Lieutenant moved up on the medical que. For all the good that did me in this case, but still.

“You’re too kind, Princess,” he says. “Excuse me. I have many who need my attention.”

I watch him walk off, my gaze focused on his tight, cute butt. Damn. If not for my condition, I might tell him how much I appreciate his rear end. I hate to see him go, but I love watching him leave.

Damn. Looks like I’m still in charge of the 475th. Well, I’m sick of looking up at that damn hill. I’m sick of this valley. And I’m real sick of being around all these alien studs and not being able to do anything about it.

We’re taking Chocolate Hill. Damn it.

I get back to the bulwark and find that little has changed. The Ataxians are content to remain behind their defensive walls and wait us out. They have the luxury of having supplies air lifted in, unlike us. Moa’s little bot Tally has returned, and I don my helmet so he can send me the telemetry via  heads up display.

Glancing up at the  hill, I see the path outlined for us marked with a yellowish highlighted hue. The path will take us next to a thirty foot section of sheet rock, effective cover for at least part of the journey upward.

It’s still going to be one hell of a climb, servos or not. I wish we had enough power for our flight packs. But as they say, if wishes were fishes the whole galaxy would be an ocean.

I assemble my squad and give them our marching orders. While they aren’t happy about a frontal assault, they’re also as sick of this place as I am. If the choice is starving to death due to lack of supplies, or getting shot, I’ll take getting shot any day of the week. It’s faster.

As we prepare for what might be our last assault—as in ever—a sleek and slender Alzhon jogs up to my side. His cobalt skin wrinkles with concern, brow furrowing over one red eye, and one silver cybernetic one. A long barreled rifle hangs crossways over his back. Time to see what my sniper BFF has on his mind. Spoiler alert; he’s going to try and convince me not to try the assault.

“Kim,” he says between pants, bending over and putting his hands on his knees. “I came as soon as I  heard.”

“You ran two miles in four minutes, Tarvel? I’m touched.”

“In the head!” His eyes widen, both natural and cybernetic. “For fuck’s sake, Kim, I know you’re brave, but it’s suicide to try and take that hill with just six soldiers, armored or not.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s suicide, Tar. When you’re hyperbolic all the time it diminishes the impact of your words.”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer.

“I’m not jesting, Kim. Please, there has to be another way.”

I sigh, and take off my helmet so he can see my smile.

“I’ll be fine, Tar, really. And there is no other way. We’re not getting more air support—Moa can confirm that—and we’re down to less than a  hundred able bodied fighters. Sooner or later the Ataxians are going to realize what terrible shape we’re in, and charge our line. Or, t hey could just wait a few more days until we run out of potable water.”

There’s a few streams snaking their way through this valley, but a type of algae native to Maximo renders it toxic to all but maybe an Odex. Thus we’ve had to bring our own water supply, and it’s running critically low. You can work with being hungry, but you’ll die of thirst right quick.

I slap my helmet back on and raise my voice.

“All right, Lunatics. Helmets on, power up. Keep one foot in the gutter—“

“And one fist in the gold!” They rally back. Even Donnell the rookie seems enthused. Doing something always feels better than doing nothing, even if it’s not the best idea in the world.

As I prepare to don my helmet, Tarvel’s fingers close around my bicep.

“Kim, don’t go, please,” he says, eyes full of fear.

“I’ll be all right, Tar,” I say, extricating myself from his grip.

His voice trembles when he speaks.

“You’ll die.”

I don’t know why I do it. Impulse, maybe. Or perhaps because Tarvel is a good friend and won’t take it the wrong way. Or maybe, just because he’s handsome.

Whatever the reason, I grab him by the face and plant a wet one right on the lips. I can’t feel it, other than dull, general pressure, but it’s still exhilarating on a mental level.

While he stands there, dumbfounded, I don my helmet.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Tar.” I turn back to my unit and grin. “All right, Lunatics. Move out!”