Outcast Marines Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  “These fighter craft didn’t get here under their own steam,” he said. “Especially as there’s only a handful of people in the whole Confederacy who knows where here is. Hausman’s got to have a jump-ship around here somewhere.”

  Jezzy nodded. Solomon set the heavy fighters on a deep parallel course, still holding back but matching the vector that the singular CMC fighter was taking.

  “Deep-field scan initiated,” Willoughby called out from the comms and navigation desk, and all of the tactical maps overhead coalesced into one much smaller map as the view suddenly expanded.

  Blip!

  Vessels Found:

  CMC Marine Transporter 45GE-2

  CMC Jump-ship #34

  “Bingo,” Solomon said. He instantly set the Retributions on a Search and Destroy mission straight to the thirty-fourth jump-ship of the Confederacy.

  “All this technology we’re throwing away,” Solomon heard Chief Ochrie say.

  “Better throw it away than have it nuke us, ma’am,” Ratko called out with glee as she turned the scout in the same direction to follow way behind Jezzy’s bombers.

  The CMC fighter got there first, but Hausman’s ships were in disarray. The jump-ship was already starting to re-position itself, its engines starting to churn as threw its magnet locks onto the boxlike Marine transporter.

  That was how the eight CMC fighters got here, Solomon could see. Each Marine transporter was a huge block of metal, capable of holding a couple of regiments at once, as well as having loading arms that could dock a variety of smaller craft—anything as large as a heavy bomber or above had to secure its own jump-ship. The eight fighters must have clung on, limpet-like, to the belly of the transporter before they were skipped across the fabric of spacetime to attack the ECH.

  But apparently the transporter wasn’t deigning to wait for its tiny passenger as it fired positional rockets to get perfectly in line behind the jump-ship.

  “It hasn’t even deployed its loading arms!” Solomon heard Willoughby say at the apparent scandal.

  “Well, we can do something about that.” Jezzy detached her own Nightjars, which shot away from the Vultures to scream towards the jump-ship and Marine transporter.

  Solomon looked at the jump-ship, then at the transporter, and lastly at the CMC fighter desperately screaming forward to try and reach the transporter before the ECH Test Fleet caught up with it.

  Inside every one of those vessels is a CMC officer or Marine, he thought. They wouldn’t have been conscripted like he and the other Outcasts had been, Solomon was willing to bet.

  But that also doesn’t mean that they don’t have their own extenuating circumstances for joining the Marine Corps. His fingers moved toward the hologram controls and froze. “And they certainly didn’t ask to be put into the middle of a civil war,” he muttered.

  “Lieutenant?” Jezzy said, hearing her superior officer mutter and pausing her attack commands.

  “Wait.” Solomon shook his head, sliding the Retributions back to Protect and directing their target as their ward and the ECH itself.

  “Why? What’s wrong, sir?” Ratko asked.

  “Leave them. Weapons down. That’s an order,” he said sternly.

  “Sir. Yes, sir,” Jezzy said, pulling her own Nightjars back to the Vultures and slowing their speed accordingly.

  “Lieutenant?” Chief Ochrie raised an eyebrow at the man. Solomon knew that she could countermand his order, she had all the authority to override his control of the automated fleet, but she didn’t.

  That was one thing that he had learned about the ambassador—the commander-in-chief, he corrected himself—during their long, arduous journey together. She might be fierce and cantankerous, and she might be more than eager to pick a fight when she saw the need for one, but she was a woman who was also willing to hear the analysis and opinions of the people around her.

  “We don’t need to kill any more of Earth’s children today,” Solomon said severely. “And we’ve sent the message to Hausman now. He knows that we have the ECH, and the ansible, and the Test Fleet.”

  “But he knows where the ECH is now, of course,” Chief Ochrie countered. “Do you not think that he will try again? And the next time, he might bring his dreadnaught with him, and the rest of the Near-Earth Fleet?”

  “No,” Solomon said in a matter-of-fact manner.

  “Explain.” Ochrie nodded her assent.

  “When we were held prisoner in the Ru’at colony, the Ru’at drone showed me an image of the Ru’at mothership approaching Earth space. It might already be in orbit by now, for all I know. They might be working with Hausman, but I doubt it.”

  “Reasons?”

  “Past experience,” Solomon said, just as he had been taught to do. Stick to the facts. Make a case. “We saw what the Ru’at did to the Chosen of Mars on their colony. And you, of all people, Chief, should know how the Ru’at treat their humans.” She may not have remembered the experience, but they had filled her in. “They brainwash them. Hypnotize them. Even when they’re supposed to be allies. So, for that reason alone, I don’t think that the mothership will take long to start treating Hausman and the rest of the citizens of Confederate Earth the same.”

  Ochrie nodded, her eyes going far into the distance for a moment. “So, you are telling me that we need every human fighter alive in order to use them against the Ru’at? Even if those fighters are loyal to Hausman?”

  “I am telling you that the real battle is against the Ru’at. And that we’re all in this together. Hausman and the Near-Earth Fleet just haven’t realized it yet.” Solomon powered down his console and took a step back. “I won’t be ordering any of my ships to attack those CMC ships out there,” he said unequivocally.

  “Neither will I,” Jezzy said, copying the motion.

  Solomon dared the new commander-in-chief to speak against him, but she didn’t. In fact, she cocked her head to one side and gave them both a small smile. “Very good. You know, at first, I wondered at the necessity of creating a new regiment out of criminals, murderers, and thieves, but now I see how lucky I must have been to fall in with the Outcast Marines,” she said, before formally agreeing. “Let them go.”

  The air of tension settled and all eyes on the bridge turned to the viewing screen to see the final CMC fighter craft eventually catch up with the Marine transporter, and for the transporter—not so desperate to get away now that its pursuers were so far behind—to extend one of the loading arms for the CMC fighter to dock awkwardly.

  And then, just a few instants later, the Barr-Hawking ring of the jump-ship was glowing and blurring, creating a corona of light that extended over all three ships. It shimmered and glittered into nothingness, as if it had been a dream.

  “And heaven knows that if it’s heading back for Earth, then it’s going to have the shock of its life,” Solomon murmured as he looked at the wavering stars finally settling back into their hard and bright brilliance.

  “True,” Ochrie sighed, before gesturing toward the viewing screen. “No time to lose, then. Take us to the ECH, and let’s find a way to take down that Ru’at mothership, now!”

  “Sir! Yes, sir!” the crew members and Outcast Marines chorused loudly. Not one of them could agree more with the sentiment, and their new commander’s determination.

  16

  Major Surprise

  “ECH Mainframe? Activate voice controls,” Chief Ochrie breathed into the dark.

  The errant team of Outcast (and ex-Outcast) Marines had docked with the experimental command hub, Ratko synchronizing the scout with the rotating outer disk and docking on one of the portholes with practiced ease.

  The doors had opened with a slight hiss of atmosphere to reveal a dark room with a clear glass airlock at the far end, and cabinets of encounter suits and a biohazard sign etched onto the wall.

  “This place has always operated under maximum security protocols,” Ochrie explained. “There’s all sorts of sensitive and experimental equipment in he
re, everything from jump drives to new chemical compounds.”

  Solomon shared a look of wary alarm with Jezzy beside him as Ochrie walked up to the clear door and looked through to the other side.

  “Not that I suppose it matters anymore. Door open!” she said, and the glass broke its seal with another hiss of atmosphere, revealing a wide corridor that occupied the middle of the outer disk, and a narrower one heading straight forward, which Solomon assumed went to the heart of the hub. It was down this corridor that Ochrie stalked.

  “Lights,” she said. “Activate full emergency protocols.” At the sound of the acting commander-in-chief’s voice, white lights flickered on around them, advancing along the ceiling and revealing more doors on either side of the corridor.

  Ochrie didn’t pause, but as Solomon and the others hurried past, they caught glimpses through the clear glass of rooms and laboratories and workshops stuffed full of strange equipment. There were banks of screens with wires snaking to orbs that looked like they were made of mercury or aluminum. There was a room devoted to stands of a new type of power armor, as well as laboratories with rows upon rows of empty grow boxes, making Solomon flinch as he thought of his own beginnings.

  “How much have they been keeping back?” Kol whispered behind Solomon, but if he had been hoping to be surreptitious, he failed in the empty, echoing space.

  “Everything, Mr. Kol,” Ochrie said severely. “Quite simply, the ECH is designed to create, innovate, research, and test the future. At this level of the Confederacy, scientists are brought in from across civilian, colonial, corporate, and military walks of life to help determine the best technologies to deploy for the betterment of humanity.”

  “Mars doesn’t seem to have been bettered recently,” Kol muttered.

  “And neither has Proxima.” Ochrie spared a look at the still-unconscious Mariad, lying on her gurney and being pushed by Malady ahead of him. “And neither have large swathes of Earth, or the Marine Corps. That is because until Tier 1 is absolutely certain that the technology won’t cause havoc with our delicate Confederate ecosystem, then they will not release it.”

  Grow boxes. Agricultural experiments. The Message. Solomon’s mind leaped between the dots, adding them together in a flash of insight. “How much of his comes from the Ru’at Message? The one that changed the Midwest?”

  He saw Ochrie’s eyes flicker as she was caught off-guard by his question. But she nodded and said nothing.

  “You’re backwards-engineering Ru’at technology, and you’ve been doing so for years, am I right?” Solomon said, unable to keep the growl from his voice. He heard a gasp from Ratko and Willoughby behind him.

  Solomon remembered the memory-vision that the Ru’at had given him on their colony—that of the original, non-clone Augustus Tavin taking blood from the original, non-clone Solomon Cready, aged about ten.

  That was the Solomon Cready whose genetics had been unknowingly altered by the arrival of the Ru’at drone-seed, looking functionally similar to the very one that he still had in his pocket, although the one he carried was in danger of falling apart. The original Solomon had been the progenitor of Serum-21.

  “Which is why it has always been so very important to withhold the technology, and to test and re-test it until we are sure it is safe for humanity,” Ochrie said.

  “It wasn’t,” Solomon said in a low, stern voice. How much of their current problems owed itself to this platform? He had blamed the greed of the mega-corporations before, that of AgroMore and NeuroTech and Taranis, but maybe they were only doing the cybernetic and genetic research that Tier 1 of the Confederacy had always wanted them to do. When NeuroTech was churning out cyborgs on Proxima, were they doing it at the behest of Confederate command? Was the entire colonial war just a field-test of Confederate weaponry?

  “But you never realized that the Message was a dupe,” Solomon growled. “The Ru’at were using the Message to gain control of human technology. To change the biology of Earth itself!” he said, outrage plain on his face.

  “Whosever fault it was, we have an alien mothership about to take over Earth!” It was Jezzy who broke the glares of Solomon and Ochrie.

  She’s right. Solomon nodded gravely.

  “Yes, we do.” Ochrie echoed his nod. “Here, let’s get the imprimatur to a medical bay and get the rest of you to the ansible.”

  The medical bays of the ECH were some of the best that Solomon had ever seen. In fact, they were the best, with hologram-bays that swept colored light and created internal diagrams of what was wrong with the imprimatur.

  “Concussion, a bleed on the brain,” Ochrie said as she examined the images. Her hands swept through the holo controls, and in response, the automated drone arms craned over the imprimatur’s form and started to work. Lines of sparkling light lanced into the imprimatur’s head.

  “It’s a simple procedure. The ECH’s medical computers will cauterize the bleed and evaporate any displaced blood. She’ll have a headache for days, but she should be fine,” Ochrie said. Solomon refused to leave the side of the woman who had saved their lives escaping the Ru’at colony until the computers had given a green ‘all-clear’ prognosis, and then he nodded for their urgent work to continue.

  “I’ll take you to the ansible,” Ochrie said, leading the way to the central command chamber of the hub.

  All the ECH’s main controls were in a large circular room with a raised, bridge-like area in the middle. Around the outside circle were many different consoles and data-screens, each with shimmering holographic graphs, readouts, and gauges as the ECH constantly monitored information from the super-black satellite network.

  “Activate ansible,” Ochrie called out, and suddenly Solomon’s attention was taken from the devices around the room as something started to happen over the central dais.

  There was a discreet hum and whirr of machinery as a dark shape started to descend from the dome roof. The in-set floor lights illuminated something unfolding in an almost organic way—a curl of jointed metal pieces that locked into place until it stopped, stationary, a little over chest height above the dais.

  It looked a little like a telescope, Solomon thought, but a curved one. He saw rods, pistons, and servos that allowed it to fold, but its body was made of gleaming bronze and silver tubing, with a latticework of crystal-like wires, ending at a small, octagonal black screen that was no bigger than a man’s face.

  Crystal tubules, Solomon thought, drawing out the Ru’at seed-drone from his pocket. The two halves had almost completely broken apart now, revealing strange gold-colored units and modules for which Solomon had no name, with everything connected by fine crystal-like hairs.

  “Er…” Solomon started to wonder, holding up the Ru’at orb. “Are we sure that this ansible hasn’t been hacked by the Ru’at—just like the cyborgs?”

  “What is that!?” Corporal Ratko was the first to exclaim, and Solomon explained that these ‘seed-drones’ appeared to be the command modules for Ru’at technology. They could produce holograms as well as force-fields, and apparently communicate using subspace.

  “Let me see… If I can figure out how the thing works, we might be able to isolate the frequency that the Ru’at are using to control everything,” Ratko said as Solomon handed the orb over. The lieutenant had to agree that he was finally pleased to be rid of it, to be honest.

  “We don’t know if the ansible has been compromised, is the short answer to your question, Lieutenant,” Ochrie said. “But now that we also have the Ru’at orb, we still might have a chance to destroy their communication network. We have to take the chance.”

  Fair point, Solomon thought, even though it filled him with dread.

  “It must use the same principles as Ru’at subspace channels.” Kol had already stepped up to the dais to examine the large, curving apparatus in the center of the room. “It generates a tiny quantum field and must either isolate or transmit a paired electron, many thousands of lightyears away.”

  “I’m
afraid I am no quantum physicist, but I believe I read a security report to something of that effect,” Ochrie said as she, Solomon, and Jezzy joined him on the platform, where Ochrie stepped forward to the black mirror and started to speak.

  “Ansible? Identify the following CMC Officer: Brigadier General Asquew, of the Rapid Response Fleet,” Solomon watched Ochrie say into her reflection.

  It’s creepy, Solomon thought as he watched the black mirror of the data-screen pulse with some internal energy, like a ripple spreading across its surface.

  “Is it working?” Jezzy whispered in a haunted kind of voice, before suddenly the ansible jerked into motion. Solomon, Ochrie, Jezzy, and Kol sprang back as the entire structure swiveled just like a deep-space telescope, first turning one way on its axis and then the other, until it finally pointed some seventy degrees from where it had originally been.

  “Don’t tell me it’s just going to point and say over there,” Solomon muttered to Jezzy.

  But the black mirror of the device’s screen was still rippling in rhythmic circles, pulsing faster and faster.

  “It might take a while. It is still an experimental object,” Ochrie said as they waited.

  And while they waited, Solomon felt Jezzy move a little closer to him and whisper. “Sir… Sol. Back on board the scout, you did something…” she said, though their eyes were locked on the pulsing mirror in front of them.

  “Was it bad?” Solomon said. It probably was. I don’t think I’ve had the best of luck so far at keeping friends.

  “You let me take the command chair, and then you called me commander,” Jezzy said, and this time, Solomon looked at her to see how puzzled she was.

  She’s still my squad member, Solomon thought. Still fiery and determined, but also the most incredibly hardworking person that he had ever met.

  “Yes.” Solomon nodded. “I think you deserve it. General Asquew promoted me to First Lieutenant of the Outcasts. You have kept Gold Squad alive for the last however-long, and I think that—if any of us survive this and if there is enough of the Marine Corps left to even be a Marine Corps—you should be given squad command.”