She immediately threw herself into a cartwheel. Her legs rose up easily and she felt almost no pressure on her hands or wrists. The aerial, which was a cartwheel without using her hands, was so simple she couldn’t believe it. It was almost like she was in a bungie harness on a trampoline. Her body flipped through the air and instead of ending with a front salto, she did a double somersault from the ground. As far as Angel knew, she was the only person in the world to ever do a double front salto on a parallel surface.
Her landing was light and balanced. She felt a thrill and looked up at the tower.
“Did you see that?”
“We saw it, lieutenant,” Sozu said. “Good job.”
In the background she could hear the fire team.
“What the hell was that?” Hays said in his distinctive Texas draw.
“The lieutenant can fly, man!” Ruiz said.
“Impressive,” Cash agreed. “How much of that is the suit?”
“Give us a report, lieutenant,” Sozu ordered. “How did it feel?”
“Amazing,” Angel said. “I expected the routine to be hard on this rigid surface, but I hardly felt a thing. It was like I had superpowers.”
“Excellent. Shall we try it again?”
Angel did another run, only this time she did more. In fact, she did more than she had ever done in a single run. She started with a gainer, running forward then flipping over, landing on both feet at once and launching herself into a tuck and roll, then springing up nearly eight feet into the air. She came down into a dive roll that led straight into a triple front salto and from there a short run. She did four hand springs in a row, building her momentum, then jumped into a half turn, falling backward and springing up into a hand stand, which she held for a few seconds before dropping down into an inverted roll and coming up into a double rear salto. She stuck the landing and shouted for joy.
“Great work, we’re getting fantastic data,” Sozu said. “Let’s keep going until you get tired.”
Run after run, back and forth up and down the runway, Angel did more in the ARC suit than she had ever done in her longest practice session. At first she was so thrilled with the power of the suit’s impact-absorbing material and enhanced rebounding soles on the thin, flexible boots, that she just reveled in the thrill of it. She was doing things she’d never imagined doing in her wildest dreams. After the first five or six runs, she began to focus more on her form, keeping her body straight, every movement graceful yet controlled. It was like she’d been given a new body, a super-human body, that could do absolutely anything. She wanted to run, jump, dive, and twist. And surprisingly it all took so little effort. Angel was in good shape, but doing a gymnastic routine took much more physical effort than jogging. Every muscle was utilized, the control and balance stressed her entire core. Yet in the ARC suit she could do the floor routine runs over and over with hardly any fatigue.
Finally, four hours after she started, Angel knew she had to stop. She would be sore and tired the next day, she guessed, but she had to force herself to stop. The feeling of invincibility in the ARC suit was stunning.
They rode back to the lab, where Angel was helped out of the ARC suit. She realized the suit should have been soaked with sweat, but it had kept her cool despite the desert heat and blazing sunshine she had worked out in all afternoon. She didn’t try to understand the suit or how it worked. Lieutenant Commander Sozu informed her that they would spend the next three days analyzing the data and building ARC suits for Staff Sergeant Cashman’s fire team. She would not be needed, but to report any lingering effects from wearing the suit.
That night Angel had three chicken breasts, two fish fillets, a salad, broccolini, an entire cup of brown rice, and two pieces of chocolate cake. Wendy McManus had shown Angel the officers’ club, but she wasn’t old enough to drink and didn’t have any desire to test if the O-club would look the other way on her age. She decided to send her mother a message and turn in early. She took a long, hot shower, letting the hot water massage her muscles. Then she stretched for over an hour, listening to music and wondering how she’d ever gotten so lucky that Colonel Jakobson had picked her to test the ARC suit. It made her feel as if anything were possible.
As she lay in bed, she realized that in an ARC suit she could win any gymnastics meet in the world, all by herself. That thought made her smile as she drifted off to sleep. For the first time in her life she didn’t feel as if the world was against her. Hope felt good, and she reveled in it as she drifted off to sleep.
15
Camp Oppenheimer, CSF Research & Development Center 80 miles east of Stillwater, Nevada, U.S.A.
The Enlisted Club was quiet and nothing about Camp Oppenheimer felt like a military base. Most of the enlisted personnel were older men and women who worked in maintenance. They sat around small tables, or on stools by the bar, talking quietly or nursing drinks.
“This is a depressing place,” Ruiz said. “I’ve been to funerals that were livelier than this joint.”
“Just be thankful they’ve got a club to go to,” Cash said. “The nearest town is over a hundred clicks from here.”
“It’s kind of sad,” Bolton said.
“The people who work here are geniuses developing some of the most sophisticated projects in the Fleet,” Cash said. “I don’t think a honkey tonk with live music is where they would like to spend their free time.”
“Hey,” Aubrey Hays interjected, “a honkey tonk is exactly what a place like this needs. You gotta blow off steam somehow. I reckon a juke joint would be just the place. Some hot ladies, cold beer, maybe a dance floor.”
“Well this is what we’ve got,” Cash said. “And we didn’t come here to find romance.”
“Why are we here, exactly?” Bolton asked. “I saw the lieutenant, same as you, and if I know anything at all it’s that I can’t do what she did.”
“Yeah, she’s like some sort of acrobat or something,” Ruiz added.
“It was the damnedest thing I ever saw,” Hays said.
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Cash said, before taking a sip of his beer. “They’re fitting us for the same kind of suit she had on.”
“I’d love to play around in a superhero suit,” Bolton said. “But I can’t see how it’s going to help us in combat.”
“Can a person really move that fast and shoot worth a shit?” Ruiz asked.
“I guess we’ll find out,” Cash said. “What do you think of the LT?”
“She’s not bad looking,” Hays said.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Cash said. “And don’t start saying shit that’s going to get you brought up on harassment charges. What do you think of her as an officer?”
“She’s young,” Bolton said. “I don’t take her for a combat officer.”
“Yeah, she’s more of guinea pig,” Ruiz added. “They brought her on to do jumps and flips, that’s all. She’ll never leave atmo.”
“He’s probably right,” Hays said. “Just a training officer.”
“We’ll see,” Cash said. “I get the feeling she has too much sand to watch from the sidelines. If the new ARC suits get the green light, my bet is she’ll be on the team.”
“Which mean’s she’ll be our CO,” Bolton said.
“Which is why I’m asking,” Cash said.
“Well hell, Staff Sergeant, we just met her,” Hays said. “All I can say is she doesn’t seem to have a chip on her shoulder and she doesn’t treat us like second class citizens.”
“If you really think she’ll ship out when the suits are ready, I’d suggest you build some rapport with her,” Gunny Sergeant Bolton said. “Find out if we can trust her.”
“See, already there’s a need for a good honkey tonk in this sand pit,” Hays declared.
The next morning, Cash found Second Lieutenant Angela Murphy in the gym. His guys were pulling off their boots and stretching in preparation of their next lesson, but Cash could see that the newly commissioned offi
cer wasn’t in the best of shape.
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Cash said, as he ambled up to Murphy.
“I’m pretty sore,” she admitted.
“The suit having some side effects?”
“No,” she said. “I just pushed it too hard for too long. Sore muscles, that’s all.”
“Well, the eggheads will be crunching numbers for a while. You’ll get a break.”
“Funny thing is, I’m itching to get back in the suit,” she admitted. “I haven’t had that much fun in years.”
“You were pretty impressive,” Cash said.
“It’s the suit, Staff Sergeant. You’ll see once we get you into one.”
She started them out with more shoulder rolls, then moved on to cartwheels. Cash felt like a fish out of water. He was athletic enough to do what Lieutenant Murphy was asking of him, but it was odd to be doing something he expected to see little girls doing.
They stayed at the gym longer and transitioned from cartwheels to hand stands, round-offs, and dive rolls. They broke for breakfast at 0830 and then returned to the gym for hand to hand training. Cash didn’t have to instruct his squad, they were all veteran fighters, but he believed in keeping them fresh. They were busy practicing their judo throws and jiu jitsu, when Lieutenant Murphy showed up again.
“Officer on deck!” Cash shouted.
He and the rest of the squad quickly stood to attention. Murphy turned and looked behind her, as if she expected someone else to have come up behind her that the squad of special forces marines were saluting.
“Oh! Sorry,” she said, returning the salute. “Don’t mind me, I just thought I would watch a little.”
The men relaxed and Cash stepped up beside Angela Murphy.
“My guys are pretty informal, but you are an officer,” he said.
“I know, sorry. I’m still getting used to it.”
“No problem. I just don’t want these lugs getting the wrong impression. You might have to send them into combat and they need to keep a little distance.”
“Combat? Really?” Murphy asked. “You think it will come to that?”
“It’s what they’re making the suits for. Perhaps not traditional combat, but unless someone discovers another weakness to exploit we’ll have to do something. I can’t imagine the ARC suits are cheap.”
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
“Did you get a chance to do much hand to hand in basic?” Cash asked.
“No. It was mostly PT and marksmanship.”
“What did you score on the range?”
“Just a little over a hundred.”
“That’s not bad. We’ll be on the range this afternoon if you want to join us.”
“Really, that would be great,” she said. “If you don’t mind a rookie tagging along.”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. We can also teach you a few moves on the mats if you’re game. The stuff they teach in basic is useful, but if you really want to handle yourself in a fight you have to learn more than a single throw.”
She smiled at him, “Let’s do it!”
16
Fleet Operations Command Station
Mars Orbit, Sol System
“Preliminary reports are good,” Colonel Jakobson said. “Above expectations across the board.”
“I want to see it,” Fleet Admiral Basil Jennings said.
Jakobson was ready. As head of military intelligence, he was given autonomy to run operations as he saw fit, but without enemies to scout and spy on, his main duty was relaying information, usually from the CSF Research & Development staff. He kept tabs on every colony world and space station, as well as on various active divisions where morale was low. Whenever he was required to give a report to the brass he was always very prepared.
He pulled his flex pad from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket and opened an app that appeared on a large video screen on the opposite side of the room from the fleet admiral. Video of Angel doing her final competition floor event at the regionals in Bakersfield, California, appeared on the screen.
“This,” Jakobson said, “is Second Lieutenant Angela Murphy. I took this footage a little over a month ago. She’s been training in gymnastics for over a decade.”
“Kind of big for a gymnast, isn’t she?” Marshal General Allison Sinclare asked.
“She was the base on her team,” Jakobson said. “That’s typically the oldest and strongest person on any gymnastic team. She was hoping to make the nationals, but the judges didn’t like her performance, although personally I think that’s bullshit. As you can see, she knows her stuff.”
“That’s why you recruited her?” Corps Commandant Heinrich Fuller asked.
“Well, I hate to see talent go to waste.”
“You’re using her on the ARC program?” Fleet Admiral Jennings asked.
“That is correct, sir. She fit the bill perfectly.”
The screen changed to video of Angel running the obstacle course in basic training.
“She scored a one eleven on her marksmanship drill,” Jakobson said, smiling at the approving nod by Commandant Fuller. “She even passed the obstacle course.”
He waited as the three command staff officers watched Angel finish the course. Jakobson enjoyed impressing his superiors, and Angel’s somersault over recruit Zach Thane couldn’t have been scripted any better. All three senior officers leaned forward a little in their seats when Thane tried to trip her on the log run. And they all grinned happily when she vaulted over the troublemaker to finish the course in the allotted time.
“It looks as though she made the transition flawlessly,” Jennings said.
“We wouldn’t have held her back, but she passed both tests, and the reports from her OTI are impressive as well. She’s sharp,” Jakobson said. “The prototype ARC suit was fitted to her specifications and I have video of the first test run.”
The video changed and Angel appeared on the test runway in the dark ARC suit doing flips, jumps, and dives.
“I’ve been told the video doesn’t do the suit justice,” Jakobson went on, “but it has more than exceeded our expectations. The team is assessing the data and will be making refinements.”
“It looks impressive, but she isn’t changing directions,” Jennings said.
“No, the initial tests were on the suit’s abilities. They had to ensure that the pilot’s body wasn’t adversely impacted. The latest report I have today is that Second Lieutenant Murphy is sore, but otherwise fine. They ran a battery of physical tests on her shortly after lunch, and the consensus is that she overexerted herself during the testing.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Fuller asked.
“I don’t think so, sir,” Jakobson explained. “She tested the suit for nearly four hours straight.”
“Damn, she did flips and jumps like that for four hours?” Sinclare said.
“Yes ma’am. And the suit was in the green for the entire time.”
“Well, that’s impressive,” Jennings said. “The only question is whether it will be effective against the swarm.”
“We are scheduled for deployment in two weeks,” Jakobson said.
“That’s good. Word from Neo Terra is not good,” Fuller said. “The swarm is growing. It’s hit a dozen farms so far, and there’s concern that it will approach Springdale soon. It’s a mid-sized city with a population of forty thousand and growing.”
“Is that where they bottle the medicinal water that’s so popular on Earth?” Sinclare asked.
“Yes, the demand is growing,” Jakobson said. “It would be a shame to lose it. Those types of success stories have bolstered our colonist applications.”
“Commander Duke Beauregard is on station with the Ramses. Admiral Eugene Wycliff will be taking a task group to the planet as soon as the personnel and equipment has all been mobilized,” Jennings added. “They’ll have a full battalion of ground forces and two wings of drones and manned aircraft. Check in with Lieute
nant Commander Sozu. Push up the date of final testing. I want a full squad of the ARC suits on that armada.”
“Yes sir,” Jakobson said.
The meeting ended and Colonel Jakobson returned to the small office he used when he was on the Fleet Operations Command Station. The FOCS was a large space station. It served as both a port for interstellar ships, as well as the central administration hub for the service. Issak Jakobson was a minimalist, as were most CSF officers. There simply wasn’t enough room on a space ship or space station to accumulate goods. His office was merely a place to check reports, send orders, and meet with the occasional visitor. He preferred to stay on the move and kept most of his important data on a highly secured flex pad. The CSF supplied them to all senior officers, and kept the operating systems up to date. Jakobson dropped his flex pad into the dock and opened the secure messages application. He dictated a quick message and sent it off to Lieutenant Commander Hikari Sozu. She wouldn’t be happy about the new timetable, but all that mattered was that she got the suits for the special forces fire team ready. If the CSF couldn’t stop the swarm before it destroyed an important city on a highly populated colony world they would be forced to start evacuating. He couldn’t imagine what kinds of problems that would cause, both for the service and for the governments of Earth. Mars was the only other habitable planet in the solar system, but the enclosed dome cities only had so much room. Most of the colonists would have to be taken to Earth or risk being exterminated on their colony world.
He wondered briefly if nuclear weapons weren’t the better option. Surgical strikes against the swarm would be possible from low altitude drones. They would lose the hardware, but if a single bomb could take out an entire swarm it would be worth the material cost. Of course, he couldn’t be certain that the swarm wasn’t laying eggs somewhere underground for that very reason. If the swarm was lost, more of the vile aliens could hatch and infest the planet. Not that nukes were an option. Radioactive fallout was too dangerous, which was why weapons of mass destruction had been outlawed, but most Earth governments still had a few tucked away just in case. The temptation for Jakobson to get his hands on a few was strong, but he turned his mind to other matters. He was doing all he could to stop the swarm for the time being. The ARC suits might just work.
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