“Our orders are clear,” the CO said. “We’re to make contact with civilization on the planet. Somebody that can speak for a sizeable body if there’s no world government. We’re not to become involved in wars but we are to assess the political and military structure of the governments. So landing on the peripherals is out, whatever the book says.”
“There’s a bunch of cities,” the tactical officer said.
“First Sergeant Powell,” the CO said. “I would like your input.”
“I can only extrapolate from human civilizations, sir,” Top said. “But, historically, contact like this would, in general, be better suited for a growing society. Indicators of physical growth in cities would be what I would look for. Such societies are already adjusting to societal change associated with that population growth. While they are going to be more volatile, in general they are more able to accept change. There are exceptions, of course. London didn’t really start to regrow after the Black Death for some time and yet underwent a Renaissance. But, in general, it’s the way to steer.”
“And while that will potentially increase the security threat,” Captain MacDonald said, “it’s unlikely that there will be anything we can’t handle. As long as Miss Moon agrees to remain in her armor.”
“Then I have a suggestion,” Miriam said. She and the chief were back on videophone. “The first city we’ve spotted. I was looking for some of the same indicators and it gives evidence of recent growth.”
“Okay,” the CO said. “I’d say that’s our target. Captain MacDonald is in charge of determining the landing zone. Think ability to contact and security.”
“What do you got, Top?” MacDonald said, looking up from the computer screen.
“Interesting suggestion, sir,” the first sergeant said, laying a sheet of paper on the desk. “This spot is located about six klicks from the outer edge of the real metropolitan area. It’s a large manor that seems to be part castle. Broad lawns, so they apparently like the same sort of stuff we do, which is interesting. Most important…”
“Those look like defenses,” the CO said, pointing to spots. “Is that a trenchline?”
“That, sir, is a ha-ha,” Top corrected. “A deep ditch designed to keep the riff-raff out. This, in fact, looks very much like their version of Buckingham Palace, just when the duke of Buckingham still owned it. Some interesting indicators to be drawn from it. The fact that all serious defenses have been eradicated indicates that the area is free from external threats. Lots of ship traffic. I think Miss Moon hit the jackpot.”
“I was looking at this thing,” the CO said, pulling out a similar printout. It showed an open plain and a very large hill apparently composed entirely of granite.
“I saw that as well, sir,” the first sergeant said uncomfortably.
“And you have objections,” the CO said. “It’s certainly defensible. And if we need to make a quick getaway…”
“As you say, sir,” the first sergeant replied.
“Say it, Top.”
“First, sir, there’s the fact that there is no development,” the first sergeant said. “There’s no indication that even when this area was castellated, and there’s significant indicators of previous castellation, that any occurred on that hill. So they deliberately chose not to build defenses on it. That could indicate anything from instability to taboo to religious reasons. Second, sir, it’s a long damned walk. Communication with the ship will be difficult if we end up entering the city. And in the worst possible scenario, fighting our way back to the ship will be difficult or impossible. Those are my objections, sir.”
“And they’re good objections,” Captain MacDonald said, frowning. “I’d thought of the second one but not the first. Very well, First Sergeant, Buckingham Palace it is…”
“To arms! To arms!”
“What is my son shouting about, Sreen?” Lady Che-chee asked as her footman entered the room. The normally phlegmatic servant was showing clear signs of agitation in his demeanor, his ears twitching most distressingly.
“Mistress,” Sreen said, his nose flickering open and closed. “There is a… thing on the lawn. It appears to be a greater metal Demon.”
“The Demons are here?” Lady Che-chee said, rising to her full height of nearly two meters. “Bring my sword and have the pups evacuated immediately.”
“Yes, mistress,” Sreen said, backing out of the room.
“Nice reception,” Jaen said as he stepped out of the elevator.
The locals had lined up confronting the sub, which had landed on the broad lawn of the manor. The building had fewer windows than a similar structure on Earth, but otherwise was remarkably similar. There were two long wings centered on a main “hall” that had clear signs of having once been a small fort or castle.
Drawn up by the heavy front door were, apparently, the defenders. Two were in plate armor and holding swords. They also were standing on a pair of the golden surfboards. It descended from there to a local that had to be a young teen holding a butcher knife. Most of the locals were holding short spears. No firearms, no bows and sure as hell nothing that could penetrate Wyvern armor.
The threesome deployed then, as instructed; Jaen marched forward, halfway to the “reception committee,” laid a heavy casket on the ground, then backed up.
“Be interesting to see what they think of the bait,” Berg said just as one of the armored guys lifted off on his surfboard. The action apparently was not agreed upon by the other, larger, armored figure who raised an arm and squeaked at the other.
Despite the apparent imprecations, the figure swept down and took a spear from one of the retainers, then swept around to face Jaen.
“Oh, maulk,” the team leader muttered.
“Do not fire,” the CO said. “Just take it.”
The local hefted his short lance and then barreled forward, gaining speed rapidly until he could plunge the weapon, hard, into the team leader’s chest.
Jaen, who had planted one foot behind him, didn’t even rock from the blow. The spear shattered.
The local, clearly infuriated, came around for another run holding his sword.
“If that’s a monomolecular edge it’s gonna sting,” Berg noted.
It wasn’t. The local nearly lost his grip on the sword, which was clearly ringing like a bell in his hand, but he stayed in the fight, whaling away on Jaen’s armor as the team leader took the blows stolidly.
“Sir?” he said. “Any suggestions?”
“Cha-chai! Get back here this instant!” Lady Che-chee shouted. Her son had recently joined the cavalry regiment and thought himself quite the warrior. Given that Lady Che-chee had started life as an almost penniless ensign and risen to the peerage, she knew what “warrior” meant.
And the visitors were clearly uninterested in attacking. They had no obvious weapons, but those suits of armor alone made them a weapon. She could see no air gaps, no way for them to breathe. Just masses of metal, perhaps even metal things like the chak-chak. The legends spoke of such, but she had never expected to see the day. Of course, the legends also said that where the metal things went, there went the Demons.
Cha-chai had ignored her, as was too frequently the case lately, and now snatched a spear from the gamesman and charged the leader of the trio. Aware that it could mean war at any moment, Lady Che-chee took a stance and prepared to draw. But the spear shattered upon the armor and the armored figure didn’t even rock.
And now the young idiot was attacking with his sword!
“That was your grandmother’s!” Lady Che-chee shouted. “If you break it I will so shave your coat you young snot!”