story [BDay] Happy Birthday [Fanfic in the Tankiverse] [Ch7 of the One-eyed Man]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Happy Birthday

 

The hot coffee was everything Nyx had hoped it would be. Despite the sweltering heat of the jungle, the oppressive cling of her uniform in the thick, humid air, the delightfully bitter taste and heavenly aroma stimulated her mood in ways she couldn’t quantify. 

 

“So you haven’t seen anyone else?” asked Apollo, for the umpteenth time.

 

“Sorry, commander, as I said, I got so much smoke in my eyes that I was effectively blind during the whole bailout. It’s just dumb luck I didn’t land in a tree and get stuck or break a bone. As soon as I could get oriented, I struck out after the transport. I never had any contact via the NetHand until I picked up your pulse, and never saw any sign of anyone else.”

 

“You said you were the last one to bail out?”

 

“Yes, sir. I saw my sister jump, and as I was about to follow her, I noticed I’d gotten my harness twisted. It took me a few seconds to get it straight; that’s how I got separated from her.” She and Lam had agreed this was the simplest lie to tell; it had enough proximity to the truth that Nyx wasn’t likely to get confused. 

 

“Well, I suppose it makes sense that you’re the first to return, then. We should be seeing Lam, then the others, any day now.”

 

Nyx nodded. “I pray that’s true, sir!”

 

Everyone was crowded around her, eager to welcome her, glad to see her alive and well. At least, that’s how it seemed. She had to remind herself that at least one of the people she was now surrounded by was likely the saboteur. 

 

“So, what’s our status, sir?”

 

Apollo snorted. “You can see most of it. The quad is wrecked, but we have ample survival supplies. The flight and command crews are all here, and unhurt. We’re without effective communications.”

 

“You managed to generate directional pulses, though!”

 

Apollo smiled and indicated one of the flight crew. “You can thank Electra for that!”

 

The woman he’d indicated blushed. “It was nothing. Most of the individual items of equipment in the quad are fine, it’s just that the entire power distribution system, and I do mean, the entire power distribution system, is fried. The fusion generator is operating, but without control or distribution networks intact, has dropped into idle. I took a low-voltage output, ran it into a battery bank, hooked that through a power regulator, and into the radio transmitter. The trickle of power slowly charges the battery bank and gives us enough juice to do a high-power transmission burst a couple of times a day. We rigged a makeshift antenna through the trees using scraps of wire.” She dug her toe into the ground, apparently embarrassed at the collective attention focused on her. “Like I said, it was nothing.”

 

The others laughed, Nyx among them.

 

“So what fried the power distribution network?”

 

“A backlash surge from the engines. Caused by, well, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“The stator locks engaged mid-flight, right?” prompted Nyx.

 

“How did you know that?” demanded Apollo, aggressively staring at her.

 

Nyx shrugged. “They make a very distinctive sound.”

 

“So I’m told,” he said, relaxing. A subdued chuckle ran through the crew.

 

“Sir, I…” she paused, afraid to move forward. She had been about to mention the idea that the quad had been sabotaged, but was it prudent to voice her suspicions? What if the entire camp was in on the conspiracy? Mightn’t they decide to kill her rather than have their plan, whatever it was, exposed? Suddenly, that idea seemed terribly plausible. After all, why hadn’t these people abandoned the transport when the klaxon sounded? Maybe they’d all known what was coming! 

 

Quickly, she cleared her throat and continued in a different direction. “I was thinking that, now that I’m here, we should try to get the tanks out of the transport.”

 

Apollo nodded. “Indeed. We’ve been trying to cut through the hull to gain access, but progress is slow.”

 

“We only have one small plasma torch,” interjected Electra, “and the composite materials used in the skin and frame of the quad are quite tough.”

 

“Even if we get the cargo bay open,” said Pan, “without the access codes, those tanks aren’t going to do us any good.”

 

Nyx cleared her throat. “Um, as a matter of fact, I have access codes.” 

 

The pilot stood up. What was his name? Nyx couldn’t remember; she’d only met him briefly, and there had been a crash and some jungle survival since then.

 

“Those tanks were supposed to be code locked by the Loadmaster before we took off, and not able to be restored except by the Loadmaster at our destination. Are you telling me that you could have activated those tanks mid-flight?”

 

“Stand down, Artemis,” rumbled Apollo. “Tanker? Care to explain?”

 

Nyx squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s a common secret amongst tankers, sir. The myth of the code lock is to discourage malfeasance, hijacking, that sort of thing. But the truth of the matter is that it makes no sense to disable a fighting machine during transit. What if something unexpected happens? If a convoy were attacked, or a transport were forced down, or a ship were boarded by pirates, what good would it do to have a useless tank?”

 

“Of all the…” muttered Artemis. 

 

“Well, that’s good news for us!” exclaimed Apollo. “I’ve never been so happy to be lied to before! So you can get both tanks up and running?”

 

“I’m not sure, sir,” Nyx lied quickly. She had full access to her tank, and because of the long history shared between the two crews, also knew the access codes to the other. But was it wise to admit that? Dammit, she wasn’t a spy! This was hard! She decided to hide the truth as much as she could for now. “I’ve never had to use the emergency access codes before. It may be that my code only works for one tank, and maybe only for my functions. I’m the driver, you see. It may be that we need the commander to gain full access.” She knew better but hoped that the lie would sound plausible.

 

Apollo nodded. “Well, let’s start with what we can do, and move forward from there.”

 

“If nothing else,” said Electra, “we can flatten down the roots in the campsite. And if you can access the communications functions, we can do a better job of calling everyone else home.”

 

“Can I gain access to either tank?” asked Nyx.

 

Electra nodded. “It’s awkward to maneuver inside there, between the strange angle the quad is propped at, and the damage. One of the tanks came loose and rattled around as we crashed. You can see a tank-shaped dent in the hull. It’s jammed in there sideways now, and a little on top of the other tank, but you can get to both hatches on that one, and to the commander’s hatch on the other.”

 

“Let’s go take a look,” said Nyx, draining the last of her coffee.

 

The quad was a mess. The crash had twisted the frame badly. Propped up by the trees that it had toppled, it was pointed as if it were climbing aggressively while banking left. There was, indeed, a comic-like imprint of a tank in the outer skin. 

 

Inside, the air was thick with the stench of burned insulation and wiring. The only light came from flashlights carried by the crew. Twisted scraps of sharp metal threatened to cut uniform and flesh alike as Electra, Apollo, and Nyx picked their way to the cargo bay.

 

The tanks did appear to be intact. As El had said, one was wedged across the other, its left tread atop the other’s nose. That one, Nyx noted with relief, was actually her tank. 

 

“Our thoughts are that we need to cut a hole in the wall and just drive that one out through the side,” said El. “Doing it in reverse will mean less of a drop, but it’s still over a meter to the ground.”

 

“That’s a bump, but manageable,” said Nyx. “So you’ve been trying to cut through the hull there?”

 

“Trying to perforate it, at least,” said El. “But, as Apollo said, it’s slow going with that little cutter. We haven’t made much difference, I don’t think.”

 

Nyx nodded. “I’m pretty sure that I can punch through the wall, but it’s going to make an awful mess. And with that kind of damage, plus such a massive, abrupt shift in the load, the quad may well shift. You should all stay well back when I try.”

 

El nodded. “We’d thought of that. We’re also worried that, depending on how and when that shift occurs, it could flip your tank upside down, or even fall on top of you.”

 

“Right,” sighed Nyx. “I hadn’t thought of that. Is there anything we can do to minimize the risks?”

 

“We’ve done what we can without heavy machinery,” said Apollo. “Jammed some logs under the quad to help stabilize it and run some ropes to adjacent trees.” He shrugged. “It may even help.”

 

Nyx laughed. “Right. Ok, then, there’s no reason to delay, is there? You two get out of here, get some distance, and make contact with me via your NetHands.”

 

“I think I should stay with you,” said Apollo. “You could probably use some help.”

 

“And what help would that be, sir? Even if the rest of my crew were here, I’d be doing this alone. This is the driver's job. Having a gunner and a commander won’t make it any better, and only puts additional personnel at risk. Now, off you go, sir.”

 

Apollo looked like he’d eaten something sour. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to being so casually and thoroughly dismissed by a subordinate. El turned away and headed back for the exit, struggling not to laugh. Nyx held Apollo’s stare for a moment longer, then turned and began climbing to her tank.

 

Once inside, she carefully strapped herself in, then allowed herself the luxury of sitting quietly and offering a quick prayer to the Seven. Then she began activating systems. She went slowly, running a diagnostic on each before turning on the next. First came a basic power up. The Firefly began to awaken, control panels lighting up, screens flickering to life. The fusion plant showed green and stable; all initial tests were positive. Next came environmental systems. Oh, gods above, the feel of the air conditioner blowing down her back was delightful! Again, she allowed herself a few seconds, basking in the comfort, feeling the sweat cooling all over her body. Next, communications.

 

“Nyx to Apollo. Do you copy?”

 

“Apollo here. Tell me something good!”

 

“Things are looking good, commander. I have access and am powering up. So far, everything is testing positive. I’ll be ready to make the attempt in a few minutes. Is Electra there?”

 

“I’m here. You can call me El.”

 

“El, I want you to be in charge of letting me know if something goes wrong. We’re going to agree on two very, very important phrases here. First, if you want me to stop, say ‘STOP STOP STOP.’ Please confirm.”

 

“STOP STOP STOP. Got it. Next?”

 

“Ok, if you want me to go balls to the wall, to just punch as hard as I can, say ‘CHARGE CHARGE CHARGE.’ Please confirm.”

 

“CHARGE CHARGE CHARGE. Got it. Anything else?”

 

“You can say anything you like, and talk me through what you’re seeing, but if the time comes for emergency action, do not dither or hesitate. Use one of those phrases.”

 

“I understand. Ready when you are.”

 

Nyx wrapped her hands firmly around the steering yoke, then engaged the treads. “Ok, I’m starting slow.”

 

True to her word, she gently nudged the throttle and felt the Firefly respond around her. The tank shuddered and metal groaned as the tracks began to turn. It was a little bit rough, but she was moving backwards. Her tank rocked and tilted as it rolled off the other tank, then began to tilt the opposite direction as it started climbing the curve of the quad’s outer hull.

 

“Nyx, we can see the outer skin bulging. The transport seems stable, though.”

 

Nys nodded to herself. The tank’s nearly-imperceptible crawl was slowing as pressure increased; Nyx opened the throttle another fraction of a millimeter. The sounds of groaning metal increased as the tank labored to scale the increasing curve of the cargo bay’s wall.

 

“The hull is really deforming, but we can see the transport starting to shift,” came El’s voice over the com. 

 

Nyx allowed the tank to slow to a stop. She had no doubt that if she just kept pushing, the tank would climb far enough up the curve of the wall that its weight would simply tear through. The question was, would that threshold happen before or after the shifting weight caused the entire transport to roll over? Those seemed like terribly risky dice to roll.

 

Changing tactics, she slipped the tank into forward and gently moved back where she had started. It was a shame, and would seriously chew up the outer surface of the other Firefly, but this seemed safer to her. After returning more or less to her starting point, she switched back into reverse and crept backwards.

 

“The outer hull is deforming more. The transport seems stable.”

 

Good! It seemed to be working. Nyx repeated the procedure several more times, moving backwards then forwards, scarcely a meter in each direction, but slowly making a deeper and deeper dent in the quad’s wall. After halfadozen repetitions, she’d formed a notch that was perpendicular to the tank’s rear face. Now was the time to fish or cut bait!

 

“Ok, El,” she said over the com, “I’m about to hit that wall hard. If it tears through, I’ll burst out like a gunshot. There’s likely to be shrapnel, so make sure everyone is behind cover.”

 

“Copy that,” El responded. “Take care, there are trees along that path, as close as 20 meters.”

 

Wow, that was close. Nyx would need to hit the brakes almost immediately after popping out. Still, it seemed the safest route.

 

“Got it. Ok, here I go!”

 

Steeling herself, Nyx floored the throttle. The firefly leapt backwards to the shrieks of tearing plasteel and carbon monofiber. Briefly airborne as it sailed through the outer skin of the transport, the tank slammed into the ground. Nyx took that as her cue to jam on the brakes.

 

“STOP STOP STOP!” came El’s voice over the com. 

 

Nyx checked the cameras and proximity sensors. There was a monster of a tree immediately behind her, less than half a meter away. Ahead of her, the quad was rocking, settling to a new resting place on its bed of fallen trees. It had shifted dramatically, but not flipped over. She was free to maneuver.

 

“Wow, that was something to see,” came Apollo’s voice over the com. “It was like watching the transport give birth!”

 

Nyx smiled. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” she said while gently stroking the tank’s console.

 

 

 

 

 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

 

[NuclearPakistanii 223]

Beautiful piece of writing