"What the fuh…? Well stop yapping and patch me into your visual, dammit!"
There was a short pause as Kit reconfigured data streams.
A section of Krislee's HUD flickered into a rectangle of video. The picture rocked slightly from the sergeant's gait.
Three local farmers stood facing her, their arms akimbo. Krislee's stomach tightened at the odd tableau. Farmers don't stand firm, she thought. Farmers run like hell.
She noticed a shine of baldness and a hint of white beard on the tallest of the three, but she could not pull her eyes from the women figures flanking the old man.
Except for their peasant-cloth robes and civvie hair, they looked just like her.
Krislee scanned her boards again. No threat showed, but all her instincts screamed. She activated her own camera out of desperation.
"Can you get in tighter?"
"Not without more shake."
"Bullshit. Paint one of them with your ID laser. That'll activate your targeting stabs."
"Good thinking, sir."
Krislee's comeback died on her lips as Kit's camera zoomed to show a version of herself, slightly dirty and squinting in the sun.
"Krislee, that dirt pounder could be your twin."
"What the hell?" Krislee felt her jaw fall.
Ah, there you are.
Krislee jumped with surprise. The Battlemaster translated her shock into a clumsy and earthshaking hop.
"Sergeant! What the fuck was that?" Embarrassment put a harder edge to her voice than she'd intended.
"What sir?"
"What did you just say?"
"Nothing, sir. I didn't say anything… except for that dirt-pounder comment."
It's been too long.
"Will whoever the fuck that is stop the chatter on this channel or I'll rip you a new asshole! With my teeth!"
"Lieutenant, we're on line-of-sight. EMR is flat. No one is broadcasting."
"Well then some clever bastard has put a hex on my comm and when I find out who…"
Krislee, you've been away so long. You have forgotten.
That last sounded female.
"God damn it! I am in no mood to be fucked with. Whoever that is either shoot or shut the hell up!"
"Lieutenant, are you OK?"
It is not your impotent machinery that we are talking through, wombsister. It is your body. Our bodies cannot forget.
Krislee took stock and made her decision.
"Sergeant, we have a situation here. Someone's cracked our comm. Our systems might be compromised, but if they are, someone is being awfully stupid announcing the fact. Did you here that, you assholes? Awfully stupid! We don't want to infect the rest of the fleet. Power down your comm and hump it back to base."
"And pray our pickets don't slag me before I get a chance to wave 'hi', right?"
"That's about it, Kitame. I'll collect these freaks and be on your six, so don't fuck it up."
"Aye-firmative, sir! I can't wait to find out what the hell is going on. I'm out."
"That makes two of us. Out."
Kit's video feed flickered out. Krislee watched him start to the south, pushing his mech into a full-out run. His vents would be glowing like flares by the time he got back.
Now to see what these yokels have to say for themselves. She leaned her Battlemaster into an easy jog.
Yes, please do hurry. I suspect that the ingrates holding your leash will shortly be turning these hills into mounds of radioactive glass.
The male voice again.
Whatever, thought Krislee. Play it cool and don't let these creeps get under your skin again.
Krislee, wombsister, please hurry. Elder Hahlu is not exaggerating.
You can exaggerate my ass, you freaks, Krislee thought.
No, actually I'm unable to exaggerate your ass, Krislee. You and your sisters have an exemplary behind.
For the second time in six years, Krislee's mech stumbled.