The Tau Ceti Agenda

consider carrying AIs. Many others (the intel community had also learned) thought it was just a silly myth and depended on AICs as much as people in the U.S. did. But the latter were the younger crowd that hadn't lived through the cleansing. But for troops, tankheads, and mecha pilots, AICs were a necessity, and they typically had the implants. Some of them did wear external AICs so that they could discard them if they felt the need. Elle had managed to keep most of them out of command positions. If a Separatist commander wasn't willing to have an AIC implant, he wasn't worthy and loyal enough to serve Ahmi from a leading position of any relevance. And Elle couldn't keep tabs on them as well, otherwise.

Okay then, he was a nobody. You got me a mecha ready yet?

Patience, Allison replied. Just as she did, the engines of the shuttle spun up and lifted the vehicle off of the staging platform. The deck plating of the little spaceship rumbled and reverberated from the engine's hum. I'm quite certain that we are attracting attention at this point.

What makes you say that? Kira felt the ship list sideways and then heard the sound of HVAR rounds pinging against the exterior armor. Shit! Those idiots are firing railguns in the hangar. No telling what they'll hit.

Yeah, like us. I'd suggest you keep your head down.

Good advice! Kira ducked reflexively as a hypervelocity round spalled against the forward screen of the cockpit with a brilliant flash of purple and blue ionization. Several rounds followed it, spalling with a thumping sound and leaving a long growing crack in the transparent armor. The rounds ionizing against the armor continued to flash. The armor wouldn't last much longer. Apparently, it wasn't as well made as the U.S. ship's.

One Seppy Stinger mecha, just as you ordered. Allison yawed the shuttle about and an eagle-mode Stinger pulled up beside the open troop hatch of the shuttle. The mecha's right hand reached out toward the side door of the shuttle and kept formation perfectly. The fighter looked like a hybrid between a bird of prey, with clawed feet and wings swept back ready to pounce, and a large metal beast, with humanlike hands.

Railgun fire continued to ping and slap against the ship. Several rounds came through the open door just past Kira's head. The rounds sizzled through equipment on the other side of the vehicle, throwing sparks and metal splinters about. Kira flinched and covered her face to avoid being blinded.

The cockpit of the Stinger cycled open and tilted slightly toward them, giving Kira her cue. Kira took two running steps from the shuttle and leaped across the gap between the door and the mecha's outstretched hand. Her right boot touched the mecha just long enough for her to make another jump like a track and field star doing the triple jump. She dove headfirst, tumbling clumsily into the pilot's couch of the mecha and slamming her healing arm against the control console.

'Ouch, shit!' she cried out. As she impacted the seat, the cockpit cycled shut, and the mecha pulled upward in evasive maneuvers, bouncing her around violently.

Squirming into the controls of the mecha while trying to ignore new bumps and bruises, she pulled the fighter away and above the shuttle to use it as cover. The high bay was only about twenty-five meters to the ceiling, and there were mecha and other equipment hanging down that made flying too far off the deck like flying through a maze. Dodging and maneuvering around the maze while being shot at and trying to strap in just added a more exciting level of difficulty to her task. Hell, it was almost fun—except for the small fact that people all around her were trying to kill her.

Kira pulled the six-point harness straps around her and fumbled to close the buckles. The mag-seal buckles pulled together and sealed her in place in the pilot's seat. The helmet that had been sitting on the dashboard was jostled free and flew into her nose as the plane pitched and rolled upward to keep its cover position behind the shuttle. Kira tried to ignore the wet trickle of blood running down her left nostril onto her upper lip and squinted away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

I suggest you put that on, Allison warned her.

Right, Kira replied, and rubbed at her nose and eyes with a thumb and forefinger. Okay! Let's go.

Kira's hands uncomfortably fit over the hands-on throttle and stick (HOTAS) and searched for fire controls. It had been a long time since she had flown mecha. Allison guided her as best she could and in some cases took control for milliseconds. But each time she had to take control of the mecha, she had to put the shuttle on autopilot, which Kira had torn out and torched to death so that the shuttle would fly uncontrolled with a locked-in vector for those instances. After a few seconds of bumping and crashing and thrashing around, Kira finally got the hang of the mecha. Sort of.

'Like riding a bicycle!'

Yeah, one that has a shitload of bells and whistles, buttons, levers, controls, and foot pedals on it, Allison said. We're taking some serious fire.

'Warning, incoming hypervelocity fire. Warning, evasive maneuvers required,' the Bitchin' Betty—the mecha's automated warning system—alerted her.

No shit!

'Guns, guns, guns,' Kira said, spraying the directed energy gun's blue-green bolt across the hangar. The large directed energy gun in the left hand of the eagle-mode mecha swept left to right, firing bolt after bolt at the Seppy troops and techs below. Impact and secondary explosions erupted with each new energy bolt. 'Let's get the hell out of here!'

This way. Allison illuminated a flight trajectory in the DTM virtual display. The spherical map around her head showed a path for her to follow. The trajectory led them downward and across the hangar toward the aft end of the compartment. See if you can soften the wall right there! A red X appeared in her virtual view on the aft hangar wall.

Got it. Kira toggled the fighter left and scrolled the weapons list to missiles with her pinky finger on the HOTAS. 'Fox three! Fox three!' she shouted, loosening two mecha-to-mecha missiles careening and spiraling wildly through the hangar. The two missiles tracked a purple ion trail across the room and vanished with an orange and white fireball on the hangar blast doors. The percussion wave tossed equipment, vehicles, and Seppies in all different directions, resulting in a reduction of incoming railgun fire.

More!

'Guns, guns, guns! Fox three!' She poured more energy into the same spot. 'Railgun auto, fire!' The big forty-