Mercury Bound

Kristoff feathered his rig's cold thrusters, just enough to crest the top edge of the asteroid. "You see it, hun?" he said on the autopilot channel.

"You bet, cap," came the eager feminine reply from Anna, his autopilot system.

He spoke on the squad's shared channel. "Dog, do you see it?"

A man's steady tenor voice: "yes sir."

"BB, Angel - where're you princesses at?" He said it with a smirk - he knew they chaffed when he called them that. Their rigs and load-out were painted with MD40 (a descendent of the venerable Musou), rendering them invisible to light, and nearly invisible to radar. At least, to his rudimentary radar. It made the interiors hot as pip, though, and meant they always had to be careful about their equipment overheating.

Angel's battle-hardened voice, unusually low for a woman: "in position, on your ten o'clock. Shall I flash my E. B. for you sissies?"

Kristoff chuckled. "We're getting there; we're getting there. We're not all shadows you know." He glanced to his right. "BB?"

Her voice was high and musical, but still belied honed focus. "At your three o'clock."

He frowned slightly. "Are they in your range?"

"Not with good accuracy, cap. I'm still on the move."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "We'll hang tight until you're there." He glanced to his ten o'clock, But knew he had no hope of seeing Angel. He smiled wryly. "Don't get antsy, Angel."

"Shut up."

He grabbed the water canteen from its perch on his right and sucked at the straw. As he did, he glanced down at his radar. Mill, Alice, and Bull were on the surface of the asteroid, working their way to its top edge. They would need stable positions for their heavy equipment. As it was, they'd set the rock rotating once they started firing. It meant they would need to keep moving. It wasn't ideal. Dog, Viper, and Hammer were floating alongside him.

Five miles in the distance was the pirated Junker.

His squad had a vendetta against Junkers.

Not that it was junk at all. Junkers were pretty sophisticated ships with cargo bays large enough for either a good haul or several squads of rigs. It made them a favorite among pirates, which is why Junkers usually flew with escorts. It also meant they had to be approached carefully: you never knew what they were carrying. His squad was keenly aware of this. They had lost Spud a month ago when a Junker had spilled out a whole cloud of mines before jetting away from them. The Junker's engine wash had sent the mines flying at them all, and Spud, even though he was a "back" with a fairly nimble rig, was swamped and blown to bits. Kristoff hadn't replaced him yet, so they were still down a man.

The Junker was running dark, of course. Also running dark was its accompanying defense rigs. "How many rigs, hun?"

"Ten," Anna replied.

"I only see six"

"The rest are on its far side."

"You're sure?"

"C'mon, cap, how long have we been doing this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just as long as you've got your eyes on them all."

"Natch."

"Cap-com," he said over the main channel as he put the bottle back on the wall, "Junker and ten rigs."

"Copy. Proceed."

"I'm there," said BB.

"Ready," came Mill's and Alice's voices at once.

"One sec -" said Bull. "There." In the background over their squad channel, as Bull was speaking, they could hear the vibration-induced sound of the tank's stabilizers crunching down onto the asteroid.

"Good." He took a focusing breath. "BB, you take the first shot when you're ready."

There was three seconds of tense silence. Then, a searing bright light from the shadow of an asteroid at two o-clock, half a mile distant. The shot was on target. It wasn't an outright kill, but it sure lit the place up. "Pippit," muttered BB.

"Go!" Kristoff shouted.

Mill, Alice, and Bull all let off their first missile load - solid propellant powered. On cue, Kristoff, Dog, Viper, and Hammer dove into the missiles' thick cloud to follow them in. They had to be careful not to follow too closely - once the missiles hit something, they didn't want to be nearby.

Anna slammed on the reverse thrusters, and a fraction of a second later he knew why: one of the missiles had locked onto an approaching rig. It detonated right in front of his face, sending parts blasting over his shielded canopy. "Thanks, hun," he said, but there was no time to dwell on it. "Kill," he called over the squad channel.

"You got it, cap. Left cannon is jammed, though."

He glanced out the narrow canopy window as he heard Dog call out, "kill." He could see the piece of the rig that had exploded wedged crosswise among the rotating barrels.

"Drop it," he ordered.

"Wait -" He could hear the barrels rotating, and a glance confirmed it - Anna was spinning it rapidly clockwise, then counterclockwise. After three such repetitions, the debris was flung free.

"Genius."

"Anything for - NOON!"

An armored rig was charging through the cloud of rocket exhaust and debris, dead ahead. Kristoff leveled both cannons at it and fired. His rig shuddered and was propelled backward with the BRRRRRRRRRRRRRT of the depleted uranium shells. He recognized subconsciously that the debris impact on the left gun had affected its balance - his left arm shuddered unfamiliarly as the barrels spun.

His consternation grew as he watched the shells pinging off the charging rig, leaving dents, but no more. He shouted and then lurched with the impact as it crashed directly into him, grappling him. As he fought to push it far enough off to fight, Anna broke in: "it's a Pegasus, cap!"

"What the - ?" He had recognized the form, but he hadn't had time to dwell on it. His own rig was a Pegasus, as were the others on his squad, except for Angel's and BB's Valkyries.

A blinding light flashed across his view and the pirate rig came free, parts of its right arm's shielding floating away.

"Gemini, Angel, you nearly blew my arms off!" he shouted.

"You're welcome; you can return the favor now."

It was typical - the pirate Pegasus was now charging at the source of that sniper shot: the small asteroid where Angel was situated. He blasted full-throttle after it as his eyes readjusted to the dark. "Cap-com," he shouted, "where did these jokers get a Pegasus?"

"From movement analysis," Anna chimed in, "there are three. This one's the only one who knows what he's doing, though."

"It's not unheard of," Master Sergeant Frank replied over the cap-com channel. "They go missing every once in a while.

"Autopilot says there are three!"

After a second of silence: "watch yourself."

As if he had to say that.

"Kill," he heard Alice's low grinding Russian voice declare with deadpan satisfaction.

"Wooh!" Viper cheered. "Nice shot! That was one of the Pegasuses, right?"

Kristoff was keeping up with the other rig, but he wasn't gaining, at least not fast enough. "Anna, can you give me any more?"

"No, cap, and I can't even keep this up for much longer."

He couldn't risk shooting and missing since he didn't know where Angel's exact position was. As they neared the small asteroid, the pirate rig let off a burst charge: the rocket quickly got up to speed and then split into a hail of smaller projectiles. The pirate didn't know exactly where Angel was either, so was having to use a wide shot. Kristoff's Pegasus could have weathered it, but not Angel's lightly armored Valkyrie. She had to jet out from under the shot as it hammered in, which naturally gave away her position. The pirate rig immediately lit up with its twin rotating barrels.

"Filtz, Cap, where the pip are you?" Angel shouted.

He grinned slyly. The pirate's shot had slowed it. He piled into it from behind and kept the engines hot, driving it into the surface of the small asteroid. He sprang back and lit it up with his cannons, but it had already rolled and was on its feet.

"Holy -" Anna said. "That was fast prediction! The autopilot has got to be at least a Series 4!"

From the top of the pirate rig's shoulder, a pair of pincer missiles jetted towards him. He blasted to the side to avoid them, and by then the pirate was in the air, his guns already blazing.

"Shag; shag; shag," growled Anna as they back-peddled along the surface.

His rig shuddered with each heavy thack thack thack as they were struck. He dug his hands and feet into the surface of the asteroid and blasted with his jets, kicking up a cloud of debris. The burst charge he was expecting smashed in just over his head. He scrambled on his back into that larger cloud as his light-duty sniper gun rotated up from his back onto his right shoulder and snapped into firing configuration. He waited for the cloud to clear. "Status?" he asked Anna.

"Left ankle hydraulics are hit, but we can still walk on it. The rest is scratch'n'dent."

Bull grunted, "someone get this flea off me."

Kristoff glanced at his radar. "Hammer, you're closest."

"Already on my way."

The cloud settled just enough, and there the pirate was, waiting. But just as Kristoff was about to take his shot, someone's bullets from the right hit the Pegasus. It turned and jetted away.

"Shag. Keep the lock, if you can, Anna," Kristoff responded.

Dog: "you okay, cap?"

"Pippit, Dog, I was about to take a shot!"

Dog: "Catch me if you can!" He was bobbing and weaving away from the pirate's attack.

"Turn the filtz around, Dog, before he caps you in the back!" Kristoff shouted.

"Let's go get him!" Anna said eagerly.

"What's got you so excited?"

"This is awesome! I haven't fought a Series 4 since Io!"

Kristoff smirked as he blasted off the asteroid in pursuit. "What if it's something above your pay grade?"

"Let's find out!"

"Draw him this way," Mill called.

"No way," Anna confided. "This guy's not that stupid."

"Angel," Kristoff said, "are you secure?"

"For the moment. I'm going to lie low for a bit."

"Understood."

Alice: "I'm out of ammo."

Viper: "Ten seconds." Viper was their designated JOTS (Jonny On The Spot). His primary role was to keep the tanks armed. His rig was lightly armored so it could carry the weight of the extra ordinance. It made him a juicy target, so he relied on Kristoff, Dog, and Hammer (and Spud, in the past) to keep people off him.

"Filtz!" Dog shouted. He'd been hit in the back by the Pegasus they were pursuing. He spun around and began firing. It danced away.

"Series 5!" Anna said excitedly.

Kristoff growled and fired a burst charge. He didn't expect it to hit. As the Pegasus dodged it, he took a shot with his sniper rifle and caught it on the shoulder. "Yeah!" He fist pumped. "Thanks for keeping that lock, Anna."

"He's not finished yet, cap."

It was true, but he was slowed. Kristoff neared him, firing his cannons. Mill's missiles arrived a second later and parts flew out the other side of the fireball. He'd been blown to bits.

"He stole our kill!" Anna whined in protest.

"Kill!" Mill said.

"Yeah! Kill!" called BB in her sing-song voice.

"How many is that, Anna?" Kristoff asked.

"Five."

"Kill," said Alice again, this time with a low chuckle. "Thanks for the assist, Hammer."

"Yeah, you owe me a paint job."

"Oh, shag, you are going to be insufferable tonight, aren't you, Alice?" said Bull.

Hammer: "Looks like the rest are running."

"Or regrouping," Anna confided. She didn't need to, though.

Kristoff was watching the radar carefully. "Back off, everyone - she's opening up. Let's see what she's gonna dump."

"Mines," BB called from her concealed forward position.

"Ladies - paint it!" Kristoff shouted. "Tanks, drop your load! Everyone behind the rocks!"

The three on the ground fired their high-speed guided missiles. BB and Angel, wherever they were, were projecting the target mark onto the Junker's open bay.

"Dog's not moving," Anna reported.

"Dog! Status!"

"Main engines offline. I'm limping on cold thrusters."

Kristoff wheeled his rig around and began blasting towards Dog's position. He could see on his radar that the last four pirate rigs had retreated into the Junker, and its engines were starting to glow with the green of its starter fuel. He wasn't going to get there in time. "Turn around and eject my way!" he shouted.

"Pippit," Dog growled as his pilot pod launched out the back of his Pegasus.

The Junker's engines blinded him. Dog's pod crashed into his chest, and the swarm of mines weren't far behind. His last sight of Dog's rig was the autopilot firing its guns at the mines, trying to clear as many as possible from their path. Then it was gone in a flash.

Kristoff rocketing towards the nearest asteroid. It wasn't big, but it would have to do. He saw the repeated blasts from Angel and BB as they attempted to keep the mines at bay long enough for him to reach it.

"Come on!" shouted Angel. "Get there! Get there!"

He swung around its far side and watched as the swarm of mines began to hit. The asteroid fractured. Fractured some more.

"Shag," cursed Dog as it came to pieces. Kristoff jetted away with Dog's pilot pod in his arms, but then he realized that the asteroid had lasted just long enough. They were clear. He spun around and watched as the rest of the mines crashed into other asteroids further on. It took a minute for them all to reach something and detonate. He looked back at the Junker. At least some of the missiles had hit before the bay doors were closed completely. The doors were blown off and everything inside was dark. Three of its five engines were down.

"Sound off!" he called.

"Mill." "Alice." "Viper." "Hammer." "BB." "Bull." "Angel." "Dog."

"BB, Angel, what have you ladies still got?"

Angel: "My sniper rifle is slag, cap."

"Do either of you still have your poppers?"

BB: "I do!"

Angel: "Me too."

"Okay. See if it's enough to take that thing down."

BB's heavy-duty armor piercing rocket launched in a cloud of smoke, identifying her to be on an even more remote asteroid. She'd been way outside of the cone of danger of those mines. He smiled. That meant that her popper was going to strike the Junker on its far side.

Angel's launched a few seconds later, but she was farther back. BB's was going to get there well ahead of hers.

There was a large, silent explosion on the side of the Junker. Kristoff couldn't see the exact spot. The remaining two engines went out immediately. Then he saw the front half of the Junker curling around and off to the side. BB was giggling. "Super-kill," she sang.

Angel's hit it on the back then, blowing engine bells everywhere. Whatever remaining fuel there was went off a half second later, sending debris out in every direction. Now the front half was all that was left. It continued to slowly rotate.

Kristoff sighed. They'd lost a rig - a Pegasus - but at least they hadn't lost another squad member. "Good fight, guys. Let's get home."

Half an hour later they reboarded the FDFS Suzanna. Kristoff set Dog's pod down on the bay floor, then backed his rig against the wall where the crew would tie it down for travel. He patted the control panel. "Nice flying, Anna," he smiled.

"Same to you, cap. 'Til next time."

There was a quick hiss - more like a pop - from equalizing pressure as his canopy opened like a clam shell. While this was happening, he removed his helmet from the neck ring and set it on the left control stick. Then he undid his five-point harness, stood, and stretched. The rest of his squad were getting their rigs into position against the walls.

He watched as the three tanks lumbered to their positions against the walls. Their load out was so extreme that they were barely recognizable as Pegasuses. Extra armor on almost all surfaces, larger guns with thick chains that led to the ammo buckets on their backs, double tall missile banks on each shoulder, both upper arms, and even both lower legs, and even close-range guns mounted directly on their torsos. The barrel of a tall heavy blaster rose from behind the back of each rig.

Angel's and BB's Valkyries, so black that it was impossible to see anything other than their outlines, were hissing from the heat of using their sniper rifles too much. They always made Kristoff squint when he looked at them. It was like looking at a hole in the side of the ship - just a black nothing. He knew even to do maintenance on them the tech had to dust them with powder first to see what the pip he was doing.

Angel's rifle looked more like a banana than a gun. the barrel was sagging over and the paint was peeling off. Poor girls. They were going to be stuck in there for a while yet - their rigs were too hot to get a scaffold next to, or even for them to safely open.

Once the swinging scaffold clanged against the front of his rig, Kristoff made his way onto it and began to work his way down the sequence of ladders to the floor. Three flights down, he saw the SIHI staff taking the autopilot pod out the back of his rig. It looked like a large steel egg - more than three feet tall - inside of a surrounding rectangular frame of support electronics. He remembered asking early in his career why they had to remove the autopilots. The answer had been that the design had some 'wetware' components that couldn't be left unattended for long periods of time. The details, of course, were proprietary. Each of the Heavy Industry companies guarded their secrets closely and SIHI (Southern Isles Heavy Industries) was no exception. Especially since their autopilots were considered the best since the Series 2 onward. All the rigs on his squad were equipped with Series 6.

He climbed the rest of the way down. Maintenance personnel were already walking around his battered rig, talking among themselves and taking notes. He looked up at it. On the left shoulder were the three diamonds of the SIHI logo: one diamond above the other two arranged to look like a chevron, and below that the slanted blocky black letters "PEGASUS II." On the right shoulder was the large number "03". There were multiple dents from its left knee across its lower torso. The hydraulics for the left ankle were hanging loose and dripping. The paint job was ruined, of course, and the gleam of the stainless hull shone clearly from beneath. There was a gash between the barrels of the left gun. He grabbed the nearest maintenance guy by the upper arm and said, "make sure that left gun gets rebalanced."

"Yes sir." He typed on his touch screen.

Dog walked up. He was young, early in his career. His dirty-blond hair was the same color as Kristoff's, but was a bit long, in Kristoff's opinion. That was just how the young guys were wearing it these days, it seemed. Their physiques were similar, so much so that Kristoff could imagine Dog being a younger version of himself. Except for the hair. And the boyish face with the narrow nose.

His piloting skills had been noticed, which was why he had ended up on Kristoff's team. Sometimes he didn't make the best decisions, though - like exposing his back to a pursuing enemy for a long period of time. That would come with experience. Like today's. He saluted Kristoff crisply. "Thank you, sir!" he said with tight jaw.

Kristoff saluted back. "Anytime."

Dog's gaze dropped as his shoulders sagged.

Kristoff reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's OK, man."

Dog looked aside. "It's just ... it was a bad decision, and ... I lost Chloe."

Kristoff pursed his lips with a frown, then nodded. It was weird hearing sentimentality from Dog, but he'd feel the same way about losing his autopilot. Anna and he had been a killer team for years now. It was why he could trust her judgement when she'd disregarded his order to drop the rotating gun. It would take a long time to break in a new autopilot. He thumped Dog on the shoulder twice. "I get it, man." One more thump. "You'll get there."

Viper had come up behind him. He was a middle-aged man, tall and on the thin side, with close-cropped black hair and an easy-going manner. He was nearing the end of his piloting career, but he just loved flying rigs so much that he wanted to do that until they wouldn't let him anymore. His reaction time wasn't as fast as it used to be, which was why he had the supporting JOTS role. "You really got in someone's face, didn't you?" he said with a wry smile.

Kristoff replied, "at least it wasn't your face for once."

Viper chuckled.

"Did you get any kills?" Kristoff asked.

"Not today, cap." He huffed. "Alice got two."

"Maybe even three. I really can't claim the one who blew up in front of my face."

Viper rolled his eyes. "Oh, shag, just tell him it wasn't his."

The two shared a knowing smirk.

Master Sergeant Frank had reached their position. Frank was a muscular black man, in his forties, with cropped hair that was just starting to grey, and a black mustache. He flashed a glare at Dog, then turned back to Kristoff. "Nice work, Captain," he said, and saluted. Kristoff saluted in response. He withdrew a small, translucent sphere from his shirt pocket and waved it in the air between them. It was a little larger than a marble, murky white colored, and affixed to a three-pronged stalk attached to a keychain. "New orders," he said as he handed the marble to Kristoff. "You guys get a change of venue."

"R and R?" Viper ventured eagerly.

Frank huffed. "Hardly. Someone on the FDF wants your squad on Mercury."

Kristoff and Viper stared incredulously. "Are you shagging me?" Kristoff finally asked.

Frank shook his head.

"Did you proof these?" Kristoff asked.

"I called in on the FDF line and verified at a summary level. If you want to proof the details, you can do it yourself."

The private call covered it. The lines were a quantum entangled pair (QEP) of endpoints. His squad's line was a ring of the same kind. Communication was instantaneous and non-hackable. The only real concern was of an endpoint being stolen, in which case the entire ring would be scrapped and replaced.

Dog asked, "why don't they just get a squad from Earth?"

Frank turned to Dog. "Earth's at opposition right now. Everyone knows that Mars has junk, so that makes you the closest team with Pegasuses." He turned back to Kristoff and gestured at the marble on the keychain. "All the details are there," he said. "You and your squad can look it over. The drone leaves at 0900 tomorrow." He began to walk away, then stopped and turned. "It's not top secret, but don't miss that it's confidential. Dog, come with me."

Dog rolled his eyes and followed glumly.

The rest of the squad, except for Angel and BB, had gathered around. "Mercury, huh?" said Mill. Mill's physique was also similar to Kristoff's, but his heritage was Spanish and it showed in his face. His hair was black and he kept his shave a bit coarse so he always had a shadow. With that and his dark eyes and slick manner, he was quite the lady's man.

"Ever been there?" Hammer asked. Hammer was thinner, black, in extremely good physical shape, and had a head that looked flat. Whether it was actually his head or the flat-topped haircut he maintained, he never let on.

"No."

"I did a tour there," said Bull. Bull looked like an ex-linebacker, somewhere from what used to be the USA mid-west. He was lily-white, and looked overweight, but it was deceiving. His face was boyish and his voice was on the high side. "It's not as bad as Mars," he said with a wry smile. They all shared a knowing glance. Was anyplace as bad as Mars? "The planet itself is uninhabitable. You can only stay on the twin mobile platforms, the 'Dawn' or the 'Dusk.' They keep those pretty nice. They grow their own food, and stage the planet's mining products for delivery to the passing starships. I understand the stuff makes great fuel for nuclear drives. Since it's such a high-traffic area, they can get pretty much anything they want, when they want."

"Sounds nice…" said Mill.

"How big are these platforms?" Hammer asked.

"Massive. They stretch from horizon to horizon." Bull looked up and around. "Even the wheels would fill this place."

Hammer clapped once and pumped his fist. "Sounds like R and R to me!"

There were general remarks of agreement, but Kristoff wasn't inclined to chime in until he had read the whole report.

BB and Angel had finally joined them. "What's all the excitement?" BB asked in her cheerful sing-song voice. Standing there in her petite sweat-soaked sports bra and jogging shorts, her long wavy blonde hair half fallen out of its pony tail and sticking to her slick, lightly tanned neck and shoulder, she was hot as pip.

The men didn't try to hide it as their eyes roamed, but Kristoff knew that deep down, they'd all watch out for her like their little sister if the need came.

She pretended not to notice.

She refused to wear the pressure suit. Neither did Angel. The Valkyries were just too pippin' hot. It was an extra level of risk, but it was her decision, and Kristoff wasn't going to compel it. Besides the skimpy clothing (and running shoes), the only other thing she wore was a black brace on her right knee. She'd earned that at a bar a week ago on Idwick, one of the larger asteroids in the Kuiper belt. Two guys had gotten a little too friendly and she'd put them down. Hard. Kristoff knew she liked the attention, and he suspected she liked the fights too, especially knowing that there were guys around she could rely on to bail her out of a jam.

When Kristoff had first come across her bio, he'd thought her designation as a top-notch sniper was maybe a data mix-up. He hadn't been the first doubter. On her first squad they'd given her a BB gun as a joke. She'd proceeded to shoot each man's credentials off his chest. That's where she'd gotten her nickname. One guy - an old buddy of Kristoff's - had gotten irritated and had moved to teach her a lesson. Then they'd learned that the cat had claws. He smiled as he remembered his friend telling him the story over a drink. He wished he could have been there to see it.

As for him, any uncertainty he had had been silenced in their first skirmish. The only reason she hadn't gotten the first kill today was because she'd been shooting at a Pegasus.

She and Angel were polar opposites. Angel's hair and eyes were dark and her hair was buzzed nearly to her scalp. She was the same height as BB, but rock-hard from daily workouts. She wore a perpetual scowl which had only deepened since they had lost Spud. Kristoff couldn't fathom it, but apparently she and he had had some kind of a connection. It was weird. Spud had been a gentleman, and Angel was - well - not particularly ladylike.

"Mercury," Alice said in his deep deadpan voice. He was the shortest one on the squad, broad, and built like a rock. He rarely smiled or laughed, and when he did, it was at things that weren't obviously funny to the rest of them. Part of his Russian heritage, he'd told them. The only thing that reliably got him grinning was the body count. He kept score, and had a way of quietly reminding everyone what the standings were. His real name was one normally associated with girls in Russia, so when he had joined the FDF he'd told his squad mates he wanted a nickname that sounded 'tougher.' They'd all agreed that 'Alice' sounded sufficiently like a crime boss.

"Oh, filtz," said Angel.

AN: Yes - I'm starting a new story, and this one's an AU! Again, something I've never done, and something I never thought I'd do. But the characters just fit, so I'm going with it. :) I can't imagine this story ending up being as long as "White Birds," but I won't commit lest I eat the words.

I'm excited to try this. I hope you all enjoy! And PLEASE give me feedback!

Besides the obvious, some of the characters are based on personas from certain movies or video games. Comment with your guess! :D