We Dare

by Chris Kennedy

Gunny bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body shaking. When he felt he had enough control over the pain he took a step. It was too much. Without saying a word, he turned and gingerly walked off the course, stopping every few steps to catch his breath.

  Captain Brink stayed silent and watched him walk away. Nathan Brink was a strong man, one who had once led a large street gang and now commanded over two hundred specialty troops of multiple races. A man with several combat actions under his belt, he watched his hero step off a course he helped design…giving up. Once Gunny was out of sight, Brink threw the recording slate at the wall, shattering it. He couldn’t see where the pieces landed through his tears.

  * * *

  “Sir, I don’t know what to do for him,” Captain Brink said. “He insisted on attempting the Beast. I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “Gunny’s not going to allow himself to come back on duty if he can’t complete the course,” Harmon said.

  The conference call included Commodore Harmon Tomeral, Captain Marteen Yatarward, Brink and Captain Mayla Opawn. Brink had gathered himself and gone to his office to think, trying to figure a way around the regulation. Realizing he was in over his head, he initiated the call.

  “You’re right,” Marteen agreed. “The day I met him as a brand-new lieutenant, I learned that from him. There is absolutely no way he is going to ask his marines to do something he can’t do.”

  “I love him to death, but sometimes he drives me crazy with his stubbornness,” Mayla said. “And I accept that. I would never want to change him. His idea of leadership is leading, not telling. He’s an incredible leader and an even better man. If he wants to retire, then I will support it.” She paused a moment and then continued, “I will give you some time, Commodore, but my heart will be home with him. I intend to join it there. Especially since some days the pain is almost too much for him to bear.”

  “I hate to lose the both of you,” Harmon sighed, “but I completely understand. I just wish there was a way to do something about the pain.”

  “The specialists say the nerves were damaged,” Mayla said. “The doctor did the best she could, but it was emergency surgery on the ship. Saving his life was the priority.”

  “I know,” Harmon said. “I’m not blaming the Doc.”

  “I’m going home for the week,” Mayla said. “I’ll talk to him and see what he wants to do. I’ll call you.”

  “Alright,” Harmon said. “I’ll think about it some more. There has to be something we can do.”

  * * *

  Harmon leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the conference table. There has to be something we can do. He looked over at Clip Kolget. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, man,” Clip said. “All the advances in bionics and prosthetics through the centuries can’t help if the nerves themselves are damaged. Maybe they could take off more of his legs above the frayed nerves, but that’s above his knees and kinda risky. I mean, it’s not like we have the latest technology or techniques out here on the edge of the galaxy, dude.”

  “That’s it!” Harmon exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

  “I alwayss get nervouss, when he doess that,” Zerith said with his reptilian race’s distinctive lisp. He shook his head and went back to eating his mid-morning snack. The Prithmar was always eating something; right now it was a bowl of mixed fruit. “The next thing he’ll ssay iss: what can go wrong?”

  “His ideas tend to work themselves out,” admitted Jayneen. She spoke through the overhead speaker. She was currently in the Defensive Bridge with Bahroot, where the two AI’s were attempting to reprogram the guidance programming for the defensive shotgun missiles, giving them greater range.

  “You tell them, Jayneen,” Harmon said. “It’s all about positive thinking. Can you do me a favor and make a direct call for me?”

  The Bith Gate, the transportation method connecting systems throughout the galaxy, was the system wide router for the Galaxy Network, and it allowed direct calls between systems. It was extremely expensive to use, but Harmon would spare no cost for what he had planned.

  “I can,” the AI said. “Who would you like to call?”

  “The Mars Bionics Corporation in Sol System,” Harmon answered. “Ask for Jerock Guyland, the CEO.”

  A few moments later, the screen in the conference room lit up and changed to a man sitting behind a huge desk. A young boy of about seven was standing beside him. Harmon could see the red mountain ranges of Mars through the clear-steel windows behind the CEO.

  “President Tomeral, this is a nice surprise,” said Jerock Guyland. “Meet my grandson, Patton. Patton say hello to President Tomeral. He is the president of Salvage System.”

  “Hello, sir,” the boy said. He held up a picture he had colored. It was in red and vaguely resembled the skyline behind them. “Do you like my picture?”

  “I do,” Harmon confirmed. “I like how you’ve exhausted your reds in an attempt to convey the true Martian landscape. The rocks in the foreground are nicely done and provide a good contrast to the mountain range. They draw the eye but don’t hold it for too long, allowing the entire scene to be enjoyed. Good job.”

  “Thanks,” Patton said, beaming. “I’m going to show it to my mom and tell her I ‘zausted my reds. Bye.” He ran off with his picture.

  “Thank you for that, Mr. President,” the CEO said, smiling. “You are a man full of surprises.”

  Harmon shrugged. “You’re welcome. I like art. Young ones should be encouraged to draw and paint. Please, call me Harmon.”

  “Certainly, if you’ll call me Jerock,” he said. “Tell me, what prompts the call? What can I do for you?”

  “Well,” Harmon began. He spoke with the CEO for quite some time.

  * * *

  Gunny woke to a pounding on his front door. He was alert instantly; like most in the military, he had the ability to go from a deep sleep to instant consciousness. He sat up and swung his legs over the side to sit up. He reached for his feet when he heard Mayla open the door.

  “Hi guys,” she said. “You’re here early. I just fixed breakfast and was going to wake him up. Come on in.”

  Gunny stopped in mid reach and tried to remember if Mayla had mentioned visitors coming over today. Nothing rang a bell. When he heard the voices of the visitors, he really got curious. What are Hank and Stan doing at my house? he wondered. He finished attaching his feet and stood. Today isn’t a bad leg day, he thought as he walked out of the bedroom.

  “Hi, Gunny,” Hank said around a mouthful of eggs. Much to everyone’s delight, chickens from Earth had taken to the planet Salvage and settled with no issues, unlike in the Tretrayon System.

  “Come eat!” Stan said. He had a huge forkful about to go in his mouth. “Captain Opawn made cake. It is kind of flat, but it is good. She says they are called pans.”

  Gunny just grinned and shook his head. The brothers, a couple of Leethogs, were of a marsupial race; they looked like large opossums from earth. They were both lieutenants in Salvage Fleet, and, technically, they were some of his employers. As associates, they owned a percentage of Tomeral and Associates, which meant they owned part of the entire Salvage System, including its fleet.

  They were both wearing their Earth World War I-era flight helmets with goggles on top. Without laughing, he sat down and had breakfast with Mayla and the brothers. They talked of the fleet, repairs, and about them sharing a ship again, since the frigate Watch This had been destroyed. Hank acted as pilot and Stan sat in the commander’s seat because Stan was missing a hand. He had a prosthetic from Leethog, but it didn’t really give him the feeling he needed to pilot a warship in combat.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Mayla said. She stood up, walked into the bedroom, and shut the door.

  “So, what are you two doing here, anyway?” Gunny asked between bites. “I haven’t retired yet. The ceremony is not until the end of the month. Are you two going to come see me every now and then when I do?”
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br />   “We came to get you,” Hank said. “We get to take you to Sol System.” He smiled. “All by ourselves.”

  “Sol System?” Gunny asked. “Why would I want to cross the entire galaxy? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it would be…um, exciting, to go on a trip with you two, and I have never been to the home system but…”

  “We are going to get new stuff,” Stan said, grinning. Every sharp tooth in his mouth was plain to see.

  “Stuff?” Gunny asked. “What stuff?”

  “You’re getting new legs, and Stan is getting a new hand,” Hank said, matter-of-factly. “I’m flying the shuttle.”

  “Mayla!” Gunny called out, staring at the brothers. “Did you know about this?”

  Mayla came out of the bedroom with Gunny’s go-bag fully packed. “I don’t think I forgot anything. If you need anything else, you can buy it there. There should be enough changes of clothing.”

  “Mayla, I don’t know about this,” Gunny said. “The feet I have are not a bad design. It’s the nerves.”

  “Ron, you are going to Sol System,” Mayla said. “Earth, the home of all humanity. The techniques and technology there are light years ahead of what we have here in our corner of the galaxy. You’re going to the Mars Bionics Corporation because they lead the entire galaxy in human bionics. Mr. Guyland has assured Harmon they can work on the nerves and fit you with legs that won’t hurt you anymore.”

  Gunny stood up, kissed Mayla, and looked over at the brothers. “Let’s go, guys. Breakfast is over. Get it down and get out!” Both brothers scrambled toward the door like trainees. Gunny grinned at Mayla. “See you when I get back.”

  * * *

  They came through the Bith Gate into a bustling system. None of them had ever experienced anything like it. They were immediately contacted by Sol System Flight Control, and after they gave their destination, they received a flight path and designated speed. Gunny didn’t mind. The last thing he wanted was for Hank to fly like he normally did back home.

  The brothers were in awe. Among the many ships, huge super-freighters could be seen coming and going. Sol Fleet warships patrolled, helping the system’s law enforcement ships maintain order. There were several space ports within hours of the gate, as well as defense platforms. The trip across the system took days, and Gunny lost track of the various types of ships he saw while en route. The three dreadnoughts flying in formation stood out above them all, though. They were by far the largest warships he had ever seen in his career. He figured each must’ve held a battalion of marines as security.

  “There is Mars,” Stan said pointing through the clear-steel portals in the cockpit. “Everything inhabited has to be enclosed on the planet.”

  “I wonder how much power it takes for the gravity plates under the domes,” Hank asked.

  It was a much smaller planet than Salvage and lacked the greens and blues of most habitable worlds. It reminded Gunny of the planet Joth, though it was red in color as opposed to the browns and tans of the desert planet in the Tretrayon System. Like Joth, water was an issue, and moisture collection was big business on the planet Mars. The domed cities were huge and a lot of water was needed daily.

  Hank followed the directions of the star port flight control and slowly came to a hover in front of a large hanger door at their assigned terminal, which extended out of the dome over the city named Rover. The door opened, and he flew the shuttle in like it was the bay on a ship. The door closed behind them, and they watched a huge panel on the wall in front of the shuttle until it showed normal atmosphere in the parking bay. The terminal they had been assigned was for ships their size and below. They had passed other terminals designed for bigger ships on the way in.

  Gunny, Hank, and Stan grabbed their bags and exited the shuttle. Hank made sure it was secure before they walked away. It was one of the really nice ones from the cruise ship docked back in their system. Zerith had set up a travel account for Salvage System before they left the system, so Gunny used the codes to pay for the berth. Once the credit was transferred, the outer door to the chamber opened, and they passed through the scanner headed into the terminal.

  When they exited the inner lock of the chamber, two armed security officers walked over from a kiosk. One consulted his slate and said something to the other. A hand-held scanner was passed over Stan’s arm and both of Gunny’s lower legs. After the scan, he nodded and said, “Enjoy your stay on Mars.”

  Hank and Stan weren’t the only non-humans in the terminal, but they still received plenty of looks. Very few humans in this part of the galaxy had ever seen a Leethog. Hank and Stan didn’t seem to notice the stares and smiled politely to those they passed; most stepped a little farther away from all the teeth. A large, green multi-tentacled being ambled by, and Gunny noticed that this time, the brothers were doing the staring and stepping away.

  “We could never fly that one’s ship,” Hank whispered. “We only have four limbs.”

  “I have three and a half,” grinned Stan, waving his prosthetic. “You have four. Is seven enough?”

  “Let us ask,” Hank said, turning back toward the direction the being went.

  “Hold it right there,” Gunny said, realizing things were about to get out of hand. “You’re not asking a complete stranger if you can fly their ship.”

  “Do not worry, I will introduce myself first,” Hank explained.

  “Maybe next time,” Gunny said, shaking his head. “We need to find the exit to the star port and catch our ride to Mars Bionics. Let’s go.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Hank said, “Besides, it would be embarrassing if its language was not one programmed in our translators.”

  They caught the magnetic rail train running through the center of the terminal and, minutes later, they were standing in the entry lobby to the star port. Through the floor-to-ceiling clear-steel portal, they could see the city and all of its lights and activity. There were rental rides parked against the walkway and small stands selling all kinds of things from food to souvenirs, even at this time of night.

  Across the road, leaning against a wall, were four men. Gunny noticed them immediately because they reminded him of others, ones he grew up with in an orphanage in a city on Tretra. He enlisted in the Tretrayon Defense Force as soon as he could, but they stayed in the city, joined gangs, and he never knew what became of them. When he left the home he never looked back.

  They were probably looking for an easy mark. His slight limp, and Stan’s obvious metal hand would attract them like zaxs to an outdoor party. Zaxs were a small biting insect on his home world of Tretra, and thankfully, they hadn’t been brought to Salvage System when they began colonizing it.

  “Guys,” Gunny instructed, “don’t carry your bags. Put them on your backs and fasten the chest strap, before we go out and look for our ride.”

  With a shrug at his brother, Hank put his backpack on and helped Stan fasten his. They stepped out into the crowded walkway, and Gunny looked up and down the street. In the distance he saw the area where noncommercial hovercraft were waiting to pick up arrivals. As they started in that direction, Gunny watched the four men out of the corner of his eye. After a moment one of them nudged another, nodding in their direction. The men started keeping pace on the walkway on the other side of the road.

  Great, Gunny thought, and here we are in a system that requires all kinds of registration and digital licensing to carry a weapon. Probably should have just hid something nonmetallic on myself and took a chance with the authorities. “Guys, when we get to that pick up area, be ready. I don’t like the way those four are trailing us.”

  “Do you think they will try and take our belongings?” Hank asked, without looking across the street.

  “It is the middle of the night in this system,” Stan advised. “On Leethog, this is not the time to be out in some areas of the capital. It is the same everywhere.”

  “We will just have to fight them,” Hank said. “No one is taking anything of mine.”

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bsp; “At least one of them will get hit with this metal hand,” Stan said, full of confidence.

  Gunny grinned and said, “You guys are alright by me. We’ll see what they do when we enter the hovercraft area.”

  The three of them turned into the parking lot and looked for a hovercraft marked with Mars Bionics Corporation. “There it is.” Hank said pointing to one on the other side of the lot. “That says Mars Bionics in Earth common.”

  “You’re right,” Gunny said. “Let’s go.”

  Gunny glanced at the four followers and saw they were still on the other side of the street, so Gunny headed to the hovercraft. When they got there, Gunny punched the code he had been given into the door, and both sides clicked open. It was an automated vehicle that would take them where they needed to go once they were settled inside. They started to take off their packs when a voice rang out, “You can leave those bags right here. Your slates and comms, too.”

  Gunny and the brothers turned to see the four men closing in on them. The man that spoke had a knife out. It hummed softly. Two of the others had a hand in their jacket pockets. “You can leave the ear pieces too; translators go for a good price.”

  “Boys,” Gunny said, slowly shaking his head, “you don’t want to do this.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gunny saw Hank bend down and put his pack on the ground. He stayed down longer than he should have before standing back up. “Why don’t you crawl back under whatever rock you came from?” Gunny asked.

  “You’re gonna give us what we want, old man,” the leader said, “and we’ll see who wants to crawl under a rock.”

  As he continued stepping toward Gunny with the vibro-blade held in front of him, Gunny slung his pack around and threw it at him. The unexpected move caught the four of them off guard. The pack knocked the man back a few paces and when his blade hit the ground, the vibration stopped.

  Gunny stepped to the side, prepared to fight. He didn’t know if they had other weapons and wanted to put some distance between them. Stan couched low, ready to spring and hit someone. Hank hopped on one foot, then the other, while taking off his unclasped boots.