Science Fiction
No Good Deed
A war ripped world, an ace pilot, and an offensive that could turn the tide…
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The rimworld glowed high in the sky. Wrir’s eyes watered at the sight. Her cockpit was dark with nothing but the controls lighting her immediate surroundings. Everything was powered down and the only thing she could focus on was her steady — yet nervous — breathing.
This was it. An offensive that could save thousands.
She rubbed her index finger between her thumb and middle finger, gently caressing it to sooth the anxiety that welled within her. Her heart leapt in her chest with each beat and the taste of the cold re-cycled air graced her nostrils.
Beyond her cockpit the ground was pitch black. The comm-channels were dead. The eeriness of the wait always unnerved her. As distant ancestors generations gone used to say: it separated the men from the boys. She scoffed and kept her eyes firmly locked on the horizon.
It wouldn’t be much longer now — or so she thought.
The distant, resonant boom of an anti-matter bomb shattered the silence and lit up the evening sky a blinding hue of crimson red. The charred rock below gleamed the color of blood as she punched the ignition lever and gripped the joystick.
Her eyes darted over the status lights and saw each one flicker green in sequence; first the engine injection light, then the hydraulics, the radar system, comms-link, the gyro stabilizers, and the weapons systems. This was followed by a host of sub-systems bursting to life. It wasn’t long before she heard the soothing hum of the nuclear reactor in the bowels of her mech. It calmed her nerves. She was ready.
The wait was over.
“Spearhead-1, come in, this is Indigo Leader. Status?” the voice crackled through her comm-link.
“Spearhead-1, online, Lance to affirm.”
“Affirmative Spearhead-1, standby for initiation.” The comm-link sunk to static. She turned to it, assigned it to her Lance frequency and spoke,
“Spearhead-1 broadcasting. Prepare for initiation. Confirm.” She flicked the switch and within a second she heard a barrage of replies;
“Spearhead-2, online, awaiting mark.”
“Spearhead-3, online, awaiting mark.”
“Spearhead-PL, online, awaiting mark.”
She flicked the comm-link on twice and cut it within a second each time; a comm-link code to signal she’d received their replies. She switched her channel back to the Indigo Brigade frequency. She opened her comm-link,
“Spearhead Lance, online, awaiting mark.” She gained the two-click reply from the Brigade leader.
With the hectic launch sequence out of the way she had a brief respite. She looked up from her cockpit control panels for the first time since the initial explosion to see the sea of black illuminated by dozens of mech headlights. She looked out to her right hand side and could see Spearhead-2 scrambling away at his controls. Her comm-link crackled to life,
“Spearhead Lance, initiate.” It was Indigo’s Leader.
She sprung into action by grabbing the joystick and flicking her comm-link to the Lance frequency.
“Spearhead, form up on me, Papa formation.” She glanced to her Lance’s vitals, “Spearhead-PL, why are your weapons systems online?”
“Sorry Spearhead Leader, I must have forgotten to remove that line of code at home base.”
“Don’t forget, not today, power them down and take your position.” She glanced to the holographic map display, “Spearhead-2, close in tight around the right flank. Keep Spearhead-PL in close proximity.”
“Affirm Spearhead Leader.” She watched as the blip that represented Spearhead-2 close the gap in their flank, keeping Spearhead-PL firmly in the middle of a triangle formation which she led.
The lance sped off into the dusk at break-neck speed; around 130 kph. They were small, nimble, and agile as far as mechs went; a ‘feather lance’ made up of light mechs. Speed was their armor.
Their mechs streaked across the terrain with a grace and elegance that wouldn’t normally be assigned to machines. They carved round the side of a huge, ancient crater and crested into enemy territory.
Her jaw almost dropped at the sight of the battlefield when it presented itself.
Foxtrot Brigade had begun their assault to the East to draw the enemy forces, giving Spearhead time to mount the first phase of Indigo’s offensive. So far, everything was going as planned. The Intel Corp had done their jobs well.
The first thing that caught her eye were the streaks of middle-range missiles cutting across the auburn horizon and slamming into enemy mechs with beautiful explosions of sparks and flames. Rapid machine gun fire tore across the open plain and the occasional burst of photon acceleration beams lit up the landscape.
Spearhead Lance didn’t waste any time, and with Wrir leading them, they swept down the hillside into the enemy’s deep left flank. It wasn’t long before light machine gun fire shattered the rocky surface into fragments around their formation.
“Number 3, what is that!?” Wrir boomed through the comm-link.
“Looks like a light scout mech, closing in fast, light armament.”
“We don’t have long now, his friends won’t be far behind. Number 3, weapons free. Light em’ up but maintain formation.”
“Affirm.” Spearhead-3 replied, rotating the top half of his mech towards the incoming threat. The thunder of Spearhead-3’s return fire lit up Wrir’s peripheral vision; his own light machine gun tearing through the darkness.
“Number 2, what’s our flank looking like?”
“Clear,” Spearhead-2 replied.
“Affirm, drop to formation Papa, right paw orientation. Make sure that scout doesn’t get close.”
“Affirm.” Spearhead-2 responded. Wrir noticed Spearhead-2’s mech decelerate on her holographic map of the battlefield and she rotated her own mech round the triangle formation to cover more ground. The maneuver would leave them with an open flank to their West for a period of time, but it was a risk she was willing to take.
The payload could not be compromised.
“Spearhead-PL, go dark but maintain course.” Wrir commanded.
“I’ll be flying blind!”
“Use my tail light as a reference, we can’t risk that scout’s sensors picking up your armament.”
“Affirm, going dark.” The blip on the radar signifying Spearhead-PL disappeared from sight. By this point Spearhead-2 had positioned correctly to provide support to the right flank.
“Spearhead-2 is in position.”
“Green light to engage Number 2.” Another rumble of machine gun fire screeched through the dusk towards their inbound enemy. To Wrir’s bewilderment, the enemy light mech wasn’t giving up.
Spearhead Lance continued on their trajectory deeper into enemy territory. With every moment that passed it was only a matter of time before the light mech’s scout pair — a more heavily armed Medium weight class mech unit — would come looking. All Wrir could do was hope they had enough time to complete their objective.
One thing was certain, it was going to get messy.
Their target was in sight now through the haze of battle; the Cruiser mechs forming the bulk of the enemy’s backward line. These huge behemoths weighed in excess of 200 standard tons with an armament to match. They did, however, move very slowly. This made them a force to be reckoned with and ideal for forming defensive lines.
A defensive line they had been tasked with shattering.
“Objective visual, confirm PL?” Wrir asked.
“Confirmed,” came the reply as an explosive shell ruptured the loose boulders twelve metres North of their position.
“Number 3, status?” Spearhead 3’s vitals were fine but explosive shells shouldn’t be raining down on them, not yet at least.
“Looks like this Scout has a short range missile launcher.”
“A Hitman loadout?” Wrir asked.
“Affirmative,” Spearhead-3 responded.
“Shut that shit down, we can’t risk getting legged out here. Number 2, cut back and out. Chase it away if needed.”
“Affirm,” Spearhead-2 replied. Not a few seconds had passed before Spearhead-2 cut their speed and veered directly towards the incoming enemy scout mech.
“Number 3, right paw shield formation. PL, start running hot,” Wrir waited for Spearhead-2 to fully engage the enemy scout, “Execute.” Their mechs twirled in an exotic dance to take up a new formation with Wrir and Spearhead-3 guarding the right flank. The left flank was completely open but Spearhead-PL’s sensors were now online to cover the gap.
“What about my weapons Spearhead Leader?” Spearhead-PL asked.
“Offline. Don’t forget what you’re carrying.”
“But Wrir, the left flank is-”
“Not up for debate.”
“Affirmative Spearhead Leader.”
As Wrir, Spearhead-3, and Spearhead-PL made pace across the battlefield, the nearby rumble of machine gun fire and strained sounds of Spearhead-2 battling the light mech could be heard via the comm-link periodically. Wrir could see Spearhead-2’s mech vitals taking hits, with integrity percentages slowly dropping for different components of his mech.
“Number 2, status?” Wrir asked. There was silence over the comm-link as Spearhead-2’s vitals kept dropping. Suddenly the comm-link spluttered to life again with only one word,
“Viper.” Wrir couldn’t believe what she’d heard,
“Number 2, repeat?”
“It’s a Viper,” the uneasy voice returned.
“Visual confirmation?” An explosion shook the battlefield behind them. Spearhead-2’s vitals vanished from her screen. “Number-2, respond.”
Static filled the channel.
“Wrir, he said Viper,” the panicked voice of Spearhead-3 broke in.
“The comm-link isn’t for speaking freely Number 3. Not a word.”
“What are mercs doing out this far?” It was Spearhead-PL.
“Not up for discussion. Number-3, initiate an override, HALO formation around PL.”
“What about-”
“Just fucking do it. I’ll take care of the Viper.” With this she cut the channel, and opened to the Indigo Brigade frequency.
“Spearhead Leader to Indigo, Status Red. Receive?” The two clicks were followed by Indigo Leader opening the frequency,
“Affirm Spearhead. What’s the situation?”
“Spearhead-2 is KIA, Vipers on the battlefield.”
“Sorry Spearhead Leader, repeat last? Did you say Vipers?”
“Affirm.”
“Disengage Spearhead.”
“Negative Indigo Leader.”
“Disengage Spearhead Leader, this isn’t a-” Wrir cut the comm-link. Coward. Nobody — Viper or otherwise — was killing her Number 2 unavenged. Wrir caught a brief glimpse of the rest of her lance maintain their course before turning her attention to the enemy scout mech.
The Viper was closing in fast and her counter-measure systems were already blaring about a signal lock on her. She deployed her IFAS system and fragmented metal dust sprayed omnidirectionally from the top of her mech.
This fragmented dust of charged metal was ideal at distorting electro-magnetic fields; scrambling any lock-on weaponry this scout may have. It did, however, cost her the ability to probe the scout’s full armament. She would need to eyeball it when the time came.
Before long the scout opened fire with a light machine gun; the .50 calibre rounds bouncing off her mech’s armor plating like small stones off a wall. Minimal damage but damage wasn’t their intention.
She didn’t return fire. Not yet.
Wrir veered her mech off towards the crater Spearhead Lance had crested not a minute or so prior. This took her on a near collision course with the scout mech and ordinarily would be a tell tale sign of what she were about to do. She had, however, oriented herself directly south of her lance to make her sudden change of direction look like a diversion tactic.
This, of course, worked. The Viper stayed on course.
This did initially catch Wrir by surprise. Viper mercenaries were often very experienced pilots and such a tactic would have been met by severe caution on their part at the very least. Maybe she was lucky. This Viper seemed determined to catch Spearhead Lance — which would take them directly into her firing line.
It only took a truncated half minute for the Viper to come within a stone’s throw of her mech. In this half minute her mech suffered a major blow from a short range missile to the torso but her mech remained functional. Just as the two mechs went to pass one another, Wrir changed her course.
She slammed her joystick to her left and kicked her throttle to full power. This put her into a close semi-circular arc around the scout for her to deploy her dual-muzzle flame thrower. Her angle gave her a solid eleven second burn time.
She arced in an orbital fashion around the Viper and by the time the Viper had realized what was happening, she’d already dumped at least 10 gallons of fuel in the form of high-grade napalm on their armor plating. While this did minimal damage to the plating it had its desired affect by the time those eleven seconds had passed.
Wrir could see the plating glowing bright red in the darkness and see steam from the Viper’s coolant system evaporating from gaps in the armor — the scout slowed significantly. She wasted no time in exploiting her temporary advantage and focused both of her light photon accelerator beams on the knee joint of the Viper’s left mech leg.
Her photon accelerator beams cut through the armor plating around the knee joint with ease.
The Viper tried desperately to avoid getting legged but Wrir was too fast. Her short range missile, timed perfectly, exploded on the Viper’s knee joint where she had surgically sliced a hole.
The Viper mech’s leg crumpled under the combustion, with the combination of the mech’s weight and the pulverized hydraulics. The Viper came crashing to the ground with a thundering screech.
Wrir never tired of seeing 35 tons of mech going almost 70 kph grind to a halt across bare stone. Such a sound meant victory.
She quickly circled round to where the cockpit of the mech was located to finish off the Viper; all mech pilots were equipped with exo-skeletons for escape (and sometimes even continuing combat). When she came upon the cockpit her joy sank to despair. Her prideful ego in victory turned to a chill of horror.
She’d heard stories about the Vipers but nothing was ever confirmed.
Until now.
It made sense to bolster their forces in such a way this far out from the Empire’s center. Rule of law became more complex and less rigid.
Prodigies being conscripted would never happen in a formal faction, and had only been rumors; rumors that seemed more akin to propaganda than reality.
Until now.
Wrir’s eyes fixated on the lifeless body of a child — no older than fourteen — hanging unceremoniously from a broken cockpit.
The unmistakable red hue drenched the battlefield with the resonant boom of a distant anti-matter bomb.
“Payload delivered,” it was Spearhead-PL’s voice sparking into life over the comm-link. “Target neutralized.”
All Wrir could muster was a lonely tear.
“A Viper Cruiser just bit the dust,” Spearhead-PL finished. The words of the Upper Echelon echoed through Wrir’s mind,
“An offensive that could save thousands.”
But at what cost.
Before You Go…
This story was written by Stewart Storrar, a writer from Glasgow, Scotland. Stewart is a lover of Science Fiction, Cosmic Horror, and Fantasy; with a specific leaning towards darker tales of the human condition.
Aside from short fiction, Stewart loves to write poetry and is currently working on his debut novel. He runs his passion project — Lore Publication — in his free time.
You can follow his work here on Medium, via Lore Publication, or his social channels.
