“That’s a bit of a jaded attitude for a new marine officer to have,” said Jack.
“Jaded?” replied Stanton, shaking his head. “Realistic. Think about it. Let’s say you knew something about the Shiveen that was so mind-blowing that if the general population knew about it there would be panic throughout the core and outer worlds. Would you want that information to be exposed. Better to hide it in a few half-truths or even lies.”
Jack saw the point that Stanton was trying to make, but he didn’t like it.
“Oh,” continued Stanton, “and if you think that’s not already been done for the past several thousand years, and even before we all left Earth, well, you’re the kind of sucker that signs up for military service believing all the bull propaganda that they feed you.”
“And you are no sucker, right?” asked Nathine.
Stanton grinned at here.”Now that’s a truth.”
“Why are you here then, Stanton?”
Stanton glared at Nathine while shoveling the last of his food into his mouth then stood up and took his cutlery and his plate with him as he left the table.
“Was it something I said?” asked Nathine of Jack and Khouri. Jack laughed loudly and Khouri joined him a moment after. A smile appeared on Nathine’s cat-like face, her short whiskers trembling as a throaty laugh came from her.
Jack watched Stanton deposit his dirty utensils and plate and then storm towards the mess hall exit. On his way out, he almost stumbled into Taggart, but caught himself before he did. He sidestepped the smaller Sergeant, who entered the mess hall.
The room quietened almost immediately. The stocky Scotsman made his way to the center of the room, surveying the room in silence as he did.
“Looks like you all got your appetites back,” he said. “Good. Getting some food in your stomach and a decent night’s rest is what you need, because tomorrow’s going to be a busy one. But tonight you get some liberty, so enjoy it.
“Welcome to the PSS Dauntless, nuggets. Do her proud.”
3 Meeting The Fireteam
Jack ducked to the side, Anderson’s massive fist missing its mark. The previous two punches the huge marine had landed on Jack’s lower abdomen felt like fire, and Jack struggled not to show how hard the big man had hurt him. As Anderson’s path crossed his, Jack brought a knee up into Anderson’s abdomen, hearing a grunt of pain from the big man as Jack’s knee landed precisely where Jack had intended. Jack followed up with an elbow to Anderson’s back, which did nothing. Anderson grabbed Jack’s leg and straightened his, throwing Jack off-balance before depositing him onto his back on the floor mat.
Corporal Pablo Stone and Tech Specialist Melinda Bandura stood at the edges of the mat, watching the newest member of their fire team get his ass handed to him by their heavy weapons specialist.
“Conway,” said Stone. “You any good at medicine?”
Lying on his back, his breath caught from being winded by the surprise move by Anderson, Jack wheezed out a reply.
“Standard training,” he said, taking the huge hand that Anderson offered him to help him up off the training mat. Anderson wore a face-splitting grin and showed little exertion from the sparring session; he didn’t even seem to acknowledge the knee that Jack had landed.
“Well, get better at it. Keep trying rookie moves like that against a Shiveen, and you’ll have to patch up all the holes they’ll put in your body. Assuming they leave you in one piece.”
“Not really a fair comparison,” said Bandura. “Shiveen have four arms and six legs. Then again, they’re about as smart as Anderson…”
The big marine pointed a meaty finger at Bandura.
“You and me, on this mat. Right now, baby girl,” he said, pointing to the mat. Bandura laughed.
“Told you before, big guy,” she said. “Flowers and chocolates first if you want to get your hands on me.”
“Working on it,” said Anderson, stepping off the mat onto the hard floor of the gym. Bandura jabbed a quick punch on one of Anderson’s upper arms. He responded by wrapping a meaty arm around her slender waist and picking her up off the ground. She burst into laughter.
“Put me down, you big lunk!”
“Not until you apologize.”
“I’m sorry you’re as stupid as a Shiveen.”
“Apology accepted,” he said, letting her go.
Jack stood on the mat, hunched over, his hands on his thighs, catching his breath. He saw the easy camaraderie that these three marines had together. The fourth member of the fire team, Trent Stanislaw — who Jack had replaced — was meeting the other members of his temporary fire team elsewhere on the Dauntless.
This was his second day with the fire team. His first was spent performing basic maneuvers together in the Dauntless’s simulation array, running through several combat encounters and allowing Stone to identify areas of concern with Jack’s performance and ability to integrate with the fire team. That had been after physical training and their first meal together as a unit, during which Jack took time to take stock of his new fire team mates, and get to know them a little.
Corporal Pablo Stone was a man of few words, most of them sharp and curt. It was obvious he was a career man through and through by how he carried himself and the way he issued commands. He also didn’t seem to like Jack, but whether that was because he had replaced a trusted member of his fire team, or because Jack would hold a higher rank when his commission came through, Jack didn’t know. What was obvious is that he cared very much about nobody on his team making mistakes and dying. Several failed simulations had shown that to Jack. Stone was just as hard as himself as Jack was when he had failed simulations, pushing the team through them again and again until he was happy with the outcome. When Jack had been in basic training, he was teamed with marines of more or less equal skill and experience. Working through the simulations, Jack realized how much he really didn’t know working with these three marines who had seen action in multiple engagements.
Garth Anderson contrasted Stone. He was a mountain of muscle and quick laughter, literally taking up two seats at the mess table. Strong enough to carry the articulated heavy machine gun that was his weapon of choice, he was also surprisingly agile for someone of his size. He always had a glib comment or a joke, which sometimes caused Stone to break his mask of seriousness momentarily. The corporal not only tolerated Anderson, but liked him.
Melinda Bandura was focused and deadly. During combat simulations, Jack watched her rapidly infiltrate complex computer systems and expertly use multiple types of combat drones to help the fire team achieve their objectives. She was curious, asking Jack multiple pointed questions about his background and his beliefs, but making no commentary on them at all. Her attention to detail made Jack consider if she was a synthetic. There was no way to tell with some of them.
Jack had met Stanislaw, the marine he had replaced, briefly in the mess hall when Anderson and Bandura had introduced Jack to him. He had looked Jack up and down and only said one thing: “Don’t get my friends killed.”
That was the problem.
Jack was worried that he would do just that.
It didn’t matter that he had a year of combat training under his belt, with half of that also being spent at OCS. These marines had all seen real action, and if Jack’s performance in the simulations they’d been running was any sign, Jack was a liability to them.
What the hell were the people in charge thinking, putting green officer graduates into actual live fireteams? Was it because they were short on fireteam manpower, they wanted marines to see actual combat before leading, or was it to weed out those who were liabilities?
Whatever the reason, Jack felt uncomfortable with the whole thing.
“Hey, rookie,” said Anderson. “How about ‘Turtle’ seeing as you spend so much time on your back?”
Anderson had come up with at least two dozen nicknames for Jack since they’d met, all of them poking fun at him and his performance. Jack had liked none of them
, but he played along, understanding that this was the fireteam’s way of bonding. Also, you never gave yourself your own nickname.
If he and they were going to survive, they’d have to work together.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to get to choose or approve my nickname, Anderson,” said Jack. “If that’s how it worked yours would be ‘Pretty Boy’ instead of ‘Meathead’”
Bandura laughed loudly at that, and even Stone cracked a slight smile.
“How’d you know my high school nickname?” asked Anderson, before stuffing some cornbread into his mouth.
Bandura lost it again and Stone laughed louder. Anderson himself began laughing his deep booming laughter. Jack joined in.
“Ah, Rook,” Anderson said, slapping a huge hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You’ll do just fine.”
“Okay, everyone,” said Stone, the smile still on his face. “A little personal time then lights out. We’re running through simulations again first thing in the morning. Conway, please stop dying during them.”
Shiveen chemical rounds exploded where Jack had just been standing. If he had still been there, most of his face and his combat helmet would now be gone, either blown off from the explosive round or slagging off from the highly corrosive acid at the within it.
“Shit, shit, SHIT!” he yelled as he dove behind the two-foot high remains of a building wall. All down the destroyed street the remnants of flyers and other buildings exploded in bright iridescent chemical light as Shiveen round after Shiveen round came hurtling towards Jack and his fire team from the entrenched Shiveen infantry just a few hundred meters away.
“Watch out, Rook!” shouted Anderson over the noise of the articulated heavy machine gun he wielded with uncanny precision. Jack knew that a lot of Anderson’s almost-perfect shots were coming via his alek, feeding that information into his helmet-based Active Heads-Up Display, highlighting targeting information for each of the Shiveen warriors that the high velocity rounds were now shredding apart when they poked their heads outside of cover.
Jack’s alek was doing the same for him, but the information overwhelmed him. This was nothing like the simulations he’d encountered in basic training or in OCS. Most simulations were based on actual telemetry gathered from actual encounters with Shiveen, some favorable to Sphere forces, others the exact opposite with aleks acting as black box recorders that saved and transmitted a dying marine’s last moments.
The problem was there were just too many damn Shiveen!
Shiveen fought in multiple teams of three — the standard Triad — with three teams to a squad but five squads to a platoon. Each platoon was lead by the Shiveen equivalent of a Lieutenant. Comparing apples to apples, the Shiveen always had better numbers in engagements, unless triads or individuals could be drawn awayand picked off with the help of drones tracking enemy units.
That’s what Jack’s fire team had tried to do.
It hadn’t turned out well.
On the other side of the street, behind ruined and destroyed buildings of their own, Stone and Bandura were under barrage from a Shiveen heavy weapons team. They had worked out that Bandura was controlling the fist-sized drones providing additional combat support information to the panhuman fireteam and were determined to take her out.
“Conway,” said Stone over Jack’s AHUD comm line. “Take out those damn bombardiers. Anderson, provide cover.”
Jack paused for a second. The bombardiers were behind several Shiveen infantry.
“Corporal, how am I supposed to do that?” Jack asked, ducking again as another chemical round came too close to his face for comfort.
“I don’t care. Just do it!”
During each simulation, Stone had a habit of pushing Jack to take point as the fire team attempted to hold and reclaim ground. In several simulations, and even in several attempts during specific simulations, this had meant that Jack had become cannon fodder for Shiveen forces. He’d now ‘died’ multiple times during simulations, experiencing the pain and agony of multiple types of Shiveen chemical weapons, but also having Shiveen infantry literally rip him limb from limb.
Knowing that this was just another simulation didn’t help with the very real fear that coursed through Jack right now. Simulations were fully immersive, using biofeedback sent through aleks and AHUDs into telemetry suits to simulate physical sensations. This meant the sensations that often accompanied those were realistic; the fear Jack was feeling was all too very real.
Jack checked his rifle, pulling up ammunition and other data into his AHUD from it. He was down to half a mag of slivers but still had most of his explosive rounds left. He’d need both to take out the armored bombardiers. Luckily, he had another mag of each on his combat belt.
“Anderson,” he said. “Covering fire. I’m moving up.”
Anderson acknowledged Jack by firing a rapid burst of shots that ripped into a burning flyer in the middle of the street. As the shots struck the flyer, they discharged their explosive payload, causing the burning vehicle to be thrown up into the air several feet and then come back to the ground, scattering metal and ceramic shrapnel in all directions.
Jack used that distraction to slip out from behind the wall and run the twenty feet between where he had been and the intact wall of the next building. He slammed himself up against it as Shiveen chemical rounds flashed past him and where he had moved from. Anderson had already moved behind cover.
“Down to a half dozen drones,” yelled Bandura. “We’re getting our asses handed to us here!”
“Conway!” shouted Stone. “MOVE! IT!”
One of Bandura’s drones was zipping above the firefight, zigging and zagging as Shiveen shots tried to take it out. Jack wasn’t sure if it was doing so valiantly because of its AI or because Bandura was in direct control. The drone gave him a perfect view of the next few hundred feet ahead of him, including his next viable target.
Jack kept his back to the building wall as he moved along its length, monitoring the drone’s vidcast. Just around the corner of the building Jack sheltered behind, a Shiveen infantry unit was being sneaky and trying to flank him and Anderson. The twelve-foot tall arthropod-like alien used its lower six pairs of legs to scurry over rubble as quickly as it could. Two of its clawed hands helped it climb while the other two held the Shiveen version of an assault rifle — the long and bulbous organic weapon’s central reservoir glowing softly, showing it was almost empty. The Shiveen’s face was hidden from view of the drone overhead, but Jack knew what that face looked like: six impassive black eyes of differing sizes paired on each side of its head, all around a lobster-like mouth with many parts all with different functions, including paralyzing biological lifeforms and eating them.
Not this time, thought Jack. Once is enough.
He held his position until the Shiveen was all the way over the rubble then flipped his ammo selection from flechette rounds to high explosive. Almost instantly the barrel and receiver reconfigured to accept the larger rounds.
Jack performed a three-count then fired a shot perpendicular to the Shiveen’s path. As he hoped, it turned its head to watch the stray shot impact on some rubble.
He ducked out from behind the wall edge, flipping the ammo back to the high velocity sliver rounds that could rip the Shiveen apart. Jack’s AHUD outlined the Shiveen, who realized now that it had been tricked and was spinning to face him; Jack’s AHUD rapidly highlighted several potential target locations on the creature’s body.
He squeezed the trigger, releasing a short burst of long needle rounds that struck the Shiveen precisely where his AHUD had highlighted, shredding through the weaker chitin on the Shiveen’s underbody, splashing bright green fluorescent goop into the surrounding air. The creature shrieked as the metal slivers tumbled inside its body, ripping its delicate nervous system apart and destroying the ganglions that controlled its arms and legs. It collapsed, falling onto its front, bright green fluid pooling around its inert segmented and armored body.
Squatting
, Jack moved forward, keeping his rifle trained on the dying alien, looking down its sights. If he had missed the upper ganglion, the damn thing could still point its weapon at him and fire even as it died.
That didn’t happen; the Shiveen remained unmoving.
One down, even more to go.
Still squatting, Jack moved past the dead alien and across the rubble it had traversed. According to the drone above, the next nearest Shiveen was on a few buildings away. The drone could be wrong though. Shiveen could be hidden from view of the drone, ready to strike at Jack as he made his way towards the bombardiers. He tried counting how many Shiveen they’d engaged and how many they’d put down. Jack had put down two, including the one he’d just taken out. Stone and Bandura had put down three. Anderson had five confirmed kills. Jack’s AHUD showed five remaining Shiveen in play, including the three bombardiers he was attempting to take out, all clustered together and lobbing their chemical payloads towards Stone and Bandura.
Wait, something was wrong: that was only fifteen Shiveen.
Where the hell was the alien platoon leader? It wasn’t showing up in the kill list or active combatants list in Jack’s AHUD. Hell, it wasn’t even showing up as being in the combat arena.
“Bandura,” he whispered. “Where’s the leader?”
“What?” she replied. “Dammit. It was tagged. Now it’s disappeared.”
“What do you mean it disappeared?”
“None of the drones see it. It’s not here or it’s hidden.”
Jack felt his panic rising. The alien platoon leader could be anywhere.
“Shit!” said Jack. “Look for it!”
“What do you think I’m doing now?,” she retorted. “Making invitations to my next birthday party? Dammit. I can’t find it.”
“Where was it last tagged?”
In his AHUD, very near where Jack stood, a single marker pinged, showing where Bandura’s drones and tracking systems had last tracked the alien.
“Sonofa…” cursed Jack. He slammed his back against a building wall and began scanning the area visually, hoping that his alek would pick up the missing enemy. On the other side of the building continued blasts and roars came as Anderson and the bombardiers traded shots with each other. The remaining two Shiveen infantry were occupied with moving towards Stone and Bandura.
Emancipation Page 4
