When it comes right down to it, you know, there are still a few things even this new Mark V Power Armor you’ve built can’t do.
Oh, sure, if you’re talking to the top brass up on the hill or the media reporters, there isn’t anything it won’t do for us “Special Agents” as they call us (“grunts” as we call ourselves). And it’s good they think that way. It makes our job a lot easier. But since you’re from the company that makes this stuff, I’ll tell you something it really needs: Flotation. It can’t float.
Oh yes, I know you can swim in it, or even walk on the bottom. I’ve avoided a couple of nasty demolitions by jumping in a nearby river and walking away. Had to go nearly eight miles one time to beat the blast and the search patrols that followed.
But the fact remains it doesn’t float. And this is what happened to me as a result.
I started out on what was supposed to be a routine but discreet mission to a frontier world in the Pleiades cluster—a small system there that’s just been started toward political and social integration with the Interstellar Federation. It was supposed to be a routine social awareness survey, but apparently there were politics involved that I wasn’t up on, and as I approached the planet I was jumped by two pirate ships.
The scout ship I was using was designed for stealth. It could land, cruise around, and take off from a world with a minimum of fuss. But it couldn’t outshoot or outrun those bozos, so my best chance was to evade them and hide. As they closed on me I put a couple of moves on them that were so sexy they would’ve made my girlfriend blush, and they lost me for a few moments. When they found me again I was beyond them, just minutes from the planet’s atmosphere. By the usual rules of this game they should’ve given up at that point and headed home. It’s very uncouth to upset these isolated worlds with flashy displays of interstellar power. If those guys chasing me were spotted they’d get a nasty reprimand—even nastier than they’d get for failing to waste me.
As I headed for the surface, I suited up in the power armor—just in case there was further misunderstanding on my part. The Mark V is particularly nice for that. Making it about the size and shape of a football uniform is pure genius. I could wear it and still man the ship’s controls. You guys do good work (but don’t let it go to your head).
It was good I did. The two ships stayed right on my tail. I hit the atmosphere going about twice what the stealth ship was designed to take. I was risking a lot coming in that fast. The ship could easily break up. Even if it didn’t, the heat or the braking G’s might break me up. But with those pirates closing right up on my tail, it looked like a good bet. I was also counting on the power armor for additional protection. I’ll bet you guys never thought of using the stuff that way, did you?
As it turned out I didn’t have to worry about maneuvers breaking up the ship. I was still slowing to maneuver speed when those jokers got within range. I was a sitting duck. The first hit broke the ship into a million pieces. If I hadn’t been in power armor, I’d’ve been hamburger at 70,000 feet—laser fried and vacuum dried! Instead I was intact and falling among my ex-ship’s debris, wondering what to do next. According to the agency training manual I was ‘evaluating my situation’. According to me, I was scared shitless.
My pursuers were dedicated and professional; they weren’t subtle, and I began to doubt they were pirates. These guys knew they’d be spotted, but they didn’t seem to care. I figured they must have real important friends to think they could get away with this, or else they were brazen as hell, high on something, or some sort of suicide squad.
Even falling from that height the power armor would protect me when I landed. So I latched onto a piece of the ship’s skin that was about ten feet across. I planned to ride it down like a surfboard. Meanwhile the two ships followed the wreckage down and kept blasting big pieces into little pieces. Fortunately, we hit a cloud bank as they got to the ten foot-size pieces. I abandoned my ride, turned on the radar jammers, and headed down on my own.
I landed in water; deep water; big water. I did a quick scan and located a land mass in only one direction, about a mile away. Staying about a hundred feet under, I swam quickly for it.
What? Yeah, the armor ain’t bad. I know it. And sure, the Mark IV wouldn’t have let me do all this. But you came here to find out what else you needed. Right? So, watch the pretty waitresses, eat this good food you ordered, and keep listening.