On The Run: Spider Wars: Book 2

by Randy Dyess

  “Well, it does work and you’re now allowed to have one, too, because the Senate has abandoned this whole area of space. Robert said they were too bulky for his team, but they should suit you marines just fine. Now, these are also full of electronics, so we don't think they will survive a spider EMP. Our researchers asked if you could figure out a way to protect them and then put them on after the blast. If you can, they’ll come in handy during the attack.

  “The armor in the suit is thick enough to withstand all the kinetic weapons we gave you—even one of those grenades. You could stand there and set off one of those grenades and the fragments would just bounce off you and into a spider if it was close enough. The only thing in this room that would affect one of those is the nano-blade—it will cut right through them.”

  “I don’t think we can ever repay you enough for what you’re doing,” Sergeant Major McCoons said.

  “We came to an understanding with the Senate Security Committee after Candus, and Sullivan Security is the official protector of this area. We needed to test every weapon we could find, and we think these may work. Like I said, you’re next.”

  McCoons didn’t let Dakota fool him—he knew she would have brought the weapons to him, even if Shaserus wasn’t in line to be attacked. The Sullivans thought about all humans and not just themselves.

  “Understood.”

  “I don’t think your leadership knows about the attacks, so you have to keep these weapons hidden from them. You will also have to develop the tactics needed to use them against the spiders, which means you’ll need to train in secret. Cheyenne asks that you send her regular status reports on what works and what doesn’t as you develop your training program and tactics. What your team comes up with may be used to train thousands of future marines.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” Sergeant Major McCoons replied. “They’re coming and we’re going to have to fight them, anyway. At least you’ve given us a fighting chance to live.”

  “I expect you to live, Sergeant Major, and give us the methods we need to prepare for larger attacks by these monsters. Besides, I want my ship back,” she replied as the group broke out into laughter.

  “Yes, ma’am,” McCoons said. “I remember: washed and tidied up. Did you want the carpets cleaned and the cargo bay mopped?”

  Chapter 8

  Over the last two days, Sergeant Major McCoons and his small group of NCOs had worked on the load of weapons delivered to them by Dakota and Robert. They had quickly become comfortable with handling the rifles and machine guns, and McCoons took a real liking to the new nano-blades and had already figured out a basic training plan for them. The battle armor was taking quite a bit more time; the AI in the suit helped, but it was complex and none of the marines had ever trained in any type of battle suit.

  “Alphus,” Sergeant Henry said as he picked himself up off the floor, “I don’t think we’ll have time to learn how to use these. They’re too complicated for the time we have left. I can barely move around in mine without falling, and Sergeant Preston hasn’t been able to find one that will fit him.”

  “I know, Sam, but I hate to throw away a good weapon,” Sergeant Major McCoons replied.

  “It may be a good weapon in the future, but right now, it’s taking time away from the weapons we know will work.”

  McCoons sighed. They hadn’t finalized the training plan for the rifles or machine guns, and he needed to find a site far enough away from the base to fire the weapons. He found out the hard way how much noise they made when being fired. I need to put hearing protection and safety glasses on the list, he thought.

  “Besides, Alphus,” Sergeant Henry continued, “there are only ten of them. I don’t want to be wearing one if none of the other members of my platoon don’t have them. I’m not going into battle with body armor and leaving everyone else vulnerable.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that, Sam,” Sergeant Major McCoons said. “You’re right. Let’s put these things up and work on the other weapons. Maybe we can come back to them and try to use them to organize a heavy weapons squad. You can carry one of those big .50 calibers while wearing one of these, which might come in handy as a reserve force. We’ll have to work on that later, but we need to start the getting the team out and training on the new weapons.”

  The next morning, McCoons stood in front of two hundred hand-picked men and women. He knew each of them hated the Marine leadership and the government. All of them had come from corporation-owned worlds and had joined as a way of breaking the cycle of the near-slavery their ancestors had faced. They were all disappointed when they learned that most marines were only polished security guards for the sons and daughters of the rich and famous who had bought their way into the Terran Navy.

  “I know you wish you were somewhere else right now, but I need to discuss something with all of you. What I’m about to tell you, the leadership and Senate doesn’t want you to know. They’ve decided to use us as fodder for what’s coming in a few weeks.” McCoons had marched them ten kilometers from the base to a desolate spot on the shore of the large lake. He knew they wouldn’t be bothered by any officer this far out into the desert.

  “This,” he said as he pulled the cover off one of the rifles, “is a rifle. We will be temporarily replacing our MRGs with these.” He reached over and pulled up another tarp. “This is a called a .30 caliber machine gun.” He moved to the next table, “and this is called a .50 caliber machine gun.” He pulled a grenade off his vest and said, “You might not be able to see this clearly, but, this is called a hand grenade. It makes a large explosion when used.”

  The two hundred marines in front of him were wondering what was going on. None of them had ever seen weapons designed like the ones Sergeant Major McCoons had placed on the tables in front of them. He let them talk among themselves for a minute before saying, “Okay, settle down. I know these weapons look different than what you are used to. They are not new designs, but are based on six hundred and fifty-year-old weapons last used by marines during the Unification Wars.”

  The NCOs standing in front of their platoons and squads had to quieten the marines—they weren’t happy they’d had to march ten kilometers to be shown ancient marine weapons when they could have easily had this training lesson in the cool comfort of the training room. “I chose everyone in this group, because each of you, for various reasons, do not like our leadership or our government very much. What we’re about to do is unofficial and goes against all of our standing orders. Our leadership does not know anything about these weapons, and they cannot find out about them.”

  “Listen up!” Sergeant Henry shouted. “The sergeant major is about to tell you about his last training drill. I and the other NCOs here today have already heard his mission report and have looked at all the evidence. What he is about to tell you is true. It will be shocking, but you must believe him. In the end, all of you will also believe. Everyone here knows what our leadership and Senate actually think about ordinary marines; all of us are just pieces of data on a data chip to them. They’d kill us off in a heartbeat to further their own goals and you know it! If you are tired of being babysitters to a bunch of rich kids, listen to the Sergeant Major.”

  McCoons nodded his thanks and told the marines assembled in front of him about the attack on Candus and what the Senate had learned about the attack on Chaovis. Once he finished telling them about the Senate Intelligence team successfully using some of the weapons behind him, the group in front of him glanced at the weapons again.

  “None of you have heard about these attacks before because the Senate and our leadership do not want you to know. These weapons were used successfully by a Senate Intelligence team, but we do not have permission to use them to defend ourselves. The Marine leadership did not provide us these weapons.” He paused to let the last statement sink in. “These came from an outside source who risked everything to help us survive these monsters. We are going to spend the rest of the month learning to use them effectively, and we are
going to do it without any brass finding out about what we are doing. This means you’ll have to pull regular training and your regular duties and then come out here to practice with these weapons. They are too loud to use any closer to the base.”

  A murmur went up again. He had just told two hundred marines that they would not be getting any time off or sleep for the rest of the month to train on ancient weapons without the leadership knowing about it. McCoons raised his hand and the group quieted.

  “We’re going to do this because some very smart people have analyzed the attacks and are able to pinpoint when and where the next attack will be. THIS PLANET IS NEXT!” He stopped and looked at their shocked faces. “In less than three weeks, those THINGS will be landing here and attacking us! Each and every one of us is meant to be taken by those monsters, in order to buy the Senate more time to save their own butts! Are we being trained by our leadership to protect ourselves? NO! Are we being given these weapons by our leadership, because they know they work? NO!” A few of the marines shouted out the answers along with him. “Do you want to give up your lives when there is a way to defend yourselves?”

  “NO!” the collective shout came before he could say it.

  “Are you ready to become REAL marines and not shined-up security guards for the spoiled brats in the navy?”

  “NO!” “Good, because neither do I,” he said before walking over to another covered item on the first table. “Now this, I saved for last.” He yanked off the cloth and held up the nano-blade handle before turning it on. The marines all shouted, loving the vibrating sword that had appeared over his head.

  “This is new. It was designed by those very smart people who figured out the spider attack pattern. This doesn’t make noise, so we’re going to train night and day with this. It’s going to be your favorite weapon in a matter of days.” He walked to a large rock near the group. “It cuts through everything, INCLUDING SPIDER FLESH!” he yelled as he easily cut the rock in half. “Now, who wants one?”

  The ten NCOs were almost knocked down as two hundred marines bolted from their positions and ran to the crate holding the nano-blade handles. They were handed out to every marine there.

  “Nice speech,” Sergeant Henry said, “but I think we need to get them back in formation before someone cuts someone else in half.”

  *****

  During the next few days, Sergeant Major McCoons had created a berm seven hundred meters away from their training area. Each marine had a chance to become familiar with their rifle and both types of machine guns. They had to limit the practice with the hand grenades, but after demonstrating them to everyone, someone came up with the idea of using toy balls as a substitute; they weighed the same as the hand grenades and could be used to safely simulate a grenade attack.

  McCoons and his NCOs had marched the select group of marines the ten kilometers every evening and drilled them on loading and unloading the weapons during live fire and under pressure. So far, they had been successful in hiding their activities from their lieutenant and the base’s commander. It helped that the lieutenant hated going into the field with the marines and didn’t understand why the sergeant major was walking her unit so much. The lieutenant’s thought marines should only practice on board ships in full dress uniforms.

  You keep thinking that, he’d thought when she’d told him her views on how he should be training her unit. There were only a few days left, and he wasn’t about to let the lieutenant change his training routine.

  After two weeks of training, they were becoming very proficient in the use of their new weapons—especially the nano-blades. Every marine understood what would happen during the spider attack and knew about the EMP, plasma balls, and landing ships.

  Sergeant Major McCoons had gone over the details of what he knew about the spiders and how they learned it. By the end of the first two weeks, the two hundred and eleven marines making up the new marine raider company, the “Spider Killers,” were ready for the attack. They would face fear once the plasma balls started dropping, but McCoons was confident that this group would perform just fine.

  What he didn't count on was a surprise inspection from Major Chung. He had arrived two hours ago and wanted to know where the sergeant major and the missing marines were. He expected a full-dress parade at his arrival and was angry when no one turned out to greet him.

  “Where is my honor guard?” he shouted to Lieutenant Anderson.

  “Yes, Lieutenant, where are they?” repeated Base Commander Colonel Keswick, who never left his office. The lieutenant couldn’t understand why he suddenly cared where her marines were.

  “I’m not sure,” she stammered. “The sergeant major takes them on a march each evening after chow. I don’t know where they go—just that they’re gone and will not be back until right before lights-out.”

  “You’ve never gone out with them?” Colonel Keswick asked.

  No, and before today, you didn’t even know they were gone, Lt. Anderson thought before saying, “No, sir. The sergeant major had everything under control.”

  “Well, Lt. Anderson,” the snotty major said, “when the sergeant major happens to come strolling back into your sight, you and he are to report to Colonel Keswick’s office. You can then explain to me and the colonel what they were doing off the base so late in the day.”

  Colonel Keswick coughed. “You and the sergeant major are to report first thing after breakfast tomorrow,” he said. “Major Chung and I are about to be late for the governor’s dinner reception.”

  “Oh,” the major gasped, “the time has gotten away from me with all this nonsense. Yes, report in the morning. I need to go change into something presentable.” Both the major and colonel left without returning Lt. Anderson’s salute. Yes, you go. I’ll just stand here and wait for the sergeant major, even though I have an invitation for the dinner, as well.

  She waited for five minutes before saying, “To hell with this. I promised the governor’s son the first dance.” She then sprinted to get changed for the reception.

  Chapter 9

  Sergeant Major McCoons thought he was having a good morning as he walked back to his office from his morning training session. The men and women he’d chosen were very proficient with their new swords, and many of them had started carrying them everywhere they went. “Not going to get caught without it,” many of them had said. Sergeant Major McCoons agreed with their mindset—he had always carried his old sword, and now he carried both.

  As he entered the building, Sergeant Henry was waiting by his office door. He did not wait for McCoons to make it all the way in before he said, “Alphus, the lieutenant was just here and she’s up in arms about something. She ordered you to her office as soon as you freed up.”

  “Thanks, Sam. You think they know about our new weapons and training?”

  “Probably. She seemed pretty mad about us being off-base and not around. Some inspector came in yesterday and was we weren’t here to greet him in full dress. He expected an honor guard to escort him around. I hate those political types.”

  “Crap. I’ll go see what the lieutenant and that idiot major wants. Grab a few of the team and see if you can’t figure out a way to hide our new weapons.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. We parked that old freighter the Sullivans gave us near the junkyard—we could use it.”

  “Good idea. It’s not on the books, so the major won’t look for it in his inspection. We’ve got to get those weapons away from the training site for a few days.”

  “You really think they would go all the way out there? Most of the brass hates just going from their office to their aircars in this heat. I don’t think he’d even consider going all the way out there.”

  “He doesn’t have to get out of his aircar—he will be able to see the crates and firing range, and that will be enough for him to send the lieutenant out there. We can’t afford to have those weapons confiscated.”

  “Understood. I’ll get on it. Besides,” Sergeant Henry
smiled, “I’d rather go hide weapons in the desert than face what you are about to face.”

  “Comes with the large paycheck I get at the end month,” McCoons said.

  “You get paid? I thought you worked for the great food and a place to live?”

  “Feels like it, some days,” he replied. “I wonder what the Sullivans pay their fleet guards.”

  “Might be a good time to find out,” Sergeant Henry replied, serious.

  “Maybe, but not today. I have to go get scolded and grounded first.”

  *****

  “Sergeant Major,” Lieutenant Anderson shouted as soon as he entered her office, “can you explain yourself?”

  “Explain myself, ma’am?” Sergeant Major McCoons said. He had been in the marines far too long to fall into that trap.

  “Yes, explain yourself. We know what you’ve been doing with my marines.”

  “Doing, ma’am?”

  “Yes, doing.” Lieutenant Anderson replied before getting interrupted by her aid.

  “Major wants you two in the colonel’s office. He said to be there in one minute or he’ll mark you up in his inspection report.”

  “You get me a mark and blow my promotion, Sergeant Major, and I’ll make sure you never get off of his dustball,” Lieutenant Anderson shouted before standing and hustling out the door.

  None of us may ever get off this planet, McCoons thought before turning and following her out of her office.

  The lieutenant spent the short walk trying to create a mental list of everyone who owed her a favor—she might need to pull some strings to get the major off her back.

  Once in the colonel’s office, Major Chung started up, “Care to explain yourself, Sergeant Major?”