by Jake Bible
The warped Marine held out a hand and seesawed it back and forth. “Cheega nok spog.”
“I’m not quite right, but I’m not quite wrong,” Nordanski responded. “Totally understood. Now, you can talk, but only you guys understand what you are saying. I have that right, yeah?”
The warped Marine gave Nordanski a thumbs up.
“Because of what the computers did to your brains,” Nordanski said as he pointed to a picture which showed representations of the warped Marines and lines connecting their heads. “Really, you guys can hear each other’s thoughts more than you understand the words. But it’s not like you can read minds, you just get what each other is saying.”
Another thumbs up.
“See? I’m catching on. Screw all those guys that think spaceheads like us are idiots,” Nordanski said. “Now, the computers also messed up some other people which led to a lot of fighting, a lot of killing, and those others coming out on top.”
Thumbs up.
“You bailed from the outpost and busted ass out into this wasteland hell so they wouldn’t kill you,” Nordanski said. “They had the numbers and… What? Do these lines mean they are smart?”
Thumbs up.
“Like really smart?”
Two thumbs up.
“But you ain’t stupid Marines, so you know when to retreat and fight another day,” Nordanski said. “Good for you guys.” He cleared his throat and glanced at one of the warped Marines that was busy gnawing on a good-sized thigh femur that still had scraps of flesh hanging from it. “I’m going to skip how you’ve stayed alive since I am guessing that ain’t Hefford terpig you’re eating there.” Nordanski held up his hands. “Not judging. I’ve eaten some weird shit in my life.”
Nordanski studied the drawings some more and shook his head.
“I don’t get what this all means,” he said as he pointed at the last few panels of the sketches in the dirt. “Is that a head with flies buzzing around?”
The warped Marine shook his head then pointed up at the cave’s ceiling. He made a sound like a rocket then moved his hand like it was lifting off.
“Oh, duh, stupid Nord,” Nordanski said and smacked his forehead. “You guys want the fuck off this shitty rock!”
The warped Marine gave two thumbs up then clapped his hands together. The others did the same thing.
Nordanski stood up and nodded down at the drawings then looked each of the huge mutants in the eyes.
“Boys, I assume you are all boys, my apologies if you aren’t,” Nordanski said. A couple of the warped Marines shrugged massive shoulders. Nordanski gave them a nod. “Well, boys, you are in luck. I want the fuck off this shitty planet too. Just so happens, I know how we can do that. You guys remember that drop ship you found me by? Well, that’s part of how we leave. There is one catch, though.”
Before Nordanski could explain, a very animated warped Marine came rushing into the cave. “CHOOGA POP!”
“Sno lak bob,” the main warped Marine snarled then hurried out of the chamber, the others following quickly behind.
“Uh, okay,” Nordanski said.
He followed them out into the anti-chamber, careful to avoid tripping over the piles of debris, then on out into the swirling, blowing, brutal storm that raged around the cave’s entrance. The group of warped Marines were already several meters off and barely visible in the sandy maelstrom. Nordanski cursed then took off after them.
He could barely keep up, and thought he’d lost them more than once as the storm battered at him, but he finally found the entire group crouched behind a short ridge. Nordanski ducked down and crept up next to them.
He carefully eased himself up so he could see what they were all looking at. A huge hand patted him on the shoulder then gently turned his helmeted head in the right direction.
“Well, will you look at that,” Nordanski laughed. “Ask and you shall receive.”
Far off, only visible because of the landing lights, was the drop ship, appearing like a miracle in the desert. Nordanski laughed some more since that was basically what it was.
He was about to try to communicate with the warped Marine next to him when he realized the drop ship wasn’t what he needed to be paying attention to. It was the graveyard of crashed ships beyond the drop ship that truly mattered.
“Ask and the Eight Million Gods will provide,” Nordanski said.
Then things got very weird as the warped Marines stood as one and charged over the ridge, straight for the drop ship and the armed and armored figures that were walking down the rear hatch ramp.
“Oh, come on!” Nordanski cried. “Can’t we think this through first?”
The warped Marines either couldn’t hear him, which was likely in the storm, or didn’t care, which was just as likely considering what they were. Nordanski shrugged and took off after them. No way he was going to be left behind when a good fight could be had.
Part Three
The Reveal
1
The metal fingers of the enviro suit’s exoskeleton clamped onto the hunk of metal alloy that started to float off, destined to be burnt up by the planet’s atmosphere if not collected immediately. Rosch pulled the metal towards her then set it on the mag sled that was secured to the sketchy frame of the Romper’s cracked and broken hull.
“I have enough to start the starboard rebuild,” Rosch said. “I’m moving that way now.”
“Careful of Sector Seventeen,” Teffurg replied over the comm. “I am getting energy spike readings from some of the exposed power couplings.”
“The exposed power couplings you were supposed to disconnect from the main system, you mean?” Rosch grumbled.
“I have tried to disconnect them, but the system is not responding appropriately,” Teffurg replied, his voice dripping with wounded pride. “We are not dealing with an intact ship, Rosch. Not everything is going to work like you want it to.”
“Really? Is that so?” Rosch snapped. “I never guessed that. I thought I was out here hand-cutting metal for the retrofit because I needed the exercise.”
“You don’t have to be rude,” Teffurg grumbled. “I was only defending myself against your unreasonable expectations.”
“You’ll be defending yourself against my boot up your vent if you don’t shut the hell up,” Rosch said.
She could hear the Leforian breathing into the comm. He was obviously struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Rosch’s misdirected wrath. Rosch grinned at the image that conjured in her mind.
“We have bots that can perform the job you are now complaining about,” Teffurg said.
“I have them working on other tasks,” Rosch said. “They’re cutting off the dead weight and sending it into the planet’s atmosphere to burn up. They’re better at the projected trajectory calculations. I can pilot a ship, but tossing off space junk isn’t my strong suit.”
“You can assign one to come cut the metal you need,” Teffurg said. “You don’t need all of them carving off the dead weight.”
“Nah, they’d screw up the cuts,” Rosch said. “I know the size and shape I need to work on the smaller jobs. Bots get too literal. They’d miss the good salvage hidden within the broken stuffs. I got this.”
“Very well,” Teffurg replied. “I will continue to track down the power anomalies. The control panel just lit up with two new surges in Sectors Eight and Twenty-five. If I can’t diagnose them from here then I’ll personally inspect the areas.”
“Use the AI,” Rosch said. “It’s back online, yes?”
“It is, but at minimal functions,” Teffurg said. “The reboot is taking longer than expected. I believe it is trying to compensate for so much of the ship having been destroyed. Once it is fully operational, I will instruct it to perform full diagnostics on the power systems. I do not trust it to do its job correctly until then.”
“See? Now you know how I feel about the damn bots,” Rosch said. “Was it really that hard to understand?”
“Yes, you have taught me a valuable lesson today,” Teffurg said.
“Teff?”
“Yes, Rosch?”
“Bite my ass, you sarcastic bug,” Rosch replied, but not without levity.
“I will do that as soon as you are done outside the ship,” Teffurg said. “Until then, I will leave you to your oh-so-important job.”
“Leforians aren’t supposed to be smart asses, you know,” Rosch replied as she started clomping across the hull, her mag boots keeping her from flying out into the open.
She waved her hand over her wrist and manipulated the holo display that came up, ordering the mag sled to follow close behind her. It hesitated, lifted up from the hull, sputtered, then fell back to the ship. Rosch could almost imagine the clanking clatter it must have made. But imagination was all she had when it came to the sound since space was deafeningly silent.
“What now?” she muttered as she turned back to the mag sled.
Her wrist holo didn’t show any issues with the sled’s mechanics, so she got down on her belly and unlatched the systems control panel. Several sparks jumped out at her and she instinctively pulled away. That slight movement sent her floating back half a meter before her safety line tethered to the mag sled snapped tight and reeled her in.
More muttering, plenty more grumbling, and thirty minutes later, she figured out that the master command module was fried.
“Dammit,” she snarled as she got up and gave the sled a hard kick. She activated her comm. “Teff?”
“Yes, Rosch?”
“Where’s the other mag sled?” she asked, wishing she could pinch the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes. She had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.
“Port cargo hold,” Teffurg answered. “You know, the area that is hanging on to the rest of the ship by three struts and a series of sparking power cables. Hey, maybe that’s the reason I can’t get the power system to behave? Why do you ask?”
“Master command module is out of whack on my mag sled, and I’d rather swap it out for a new one than have to unload all this metal onto a different sled,” Rosch said.
“You assume that the other sled is operational,” Teffurg responded.
“Can you give it a ping for me?” Rosch asked.
“I am rather busy at the moment,” Teffurg replied.
“Teff. Do not make me come in there,” Rosch warned.
“Fine. Give me a minute,” Teffurg replied.
Rosch waited. Down on the surface of the planet, she could see what must have been one bitch of a storm. The yellow clouds were nothing but a swirling mass of tangled yuck. Why the GF had put an outpost on that hell, she couldn’t figure out. Covert, black ops, super-secret, who cares. The place was a nightmare and should have been skipped over. Hell, an overgrown jungle planet would have been preferable to the crappy, sand-covered shithole of a planet she stared at.
“The sled is online and ready for you,” Teffurg said, finally coming back on the comm. “I was able to check the master command module and it is fully operational. The sled itself is not, though, so good thing you are only looking to do a module swap.”
“Port cargo hold?” Rosch asked.
“Port cargo hold,” Teffurg replied. “Good luck.”
The comm went dead as Rosch took a deep breath and steeled herself for the long trek across the ship to the port cargo hold. She had half a mind to launch herself into free-float to save some time, but the thought of having to call Teffurg to save her ass if she ended up flying off into space killed that idea.
The comm crackled and she was ready for more Teffurg BS when Chann came on.
“Pilot Rosch, this is Private Chann. Do you read me?” Chann’s staticky voice asked.
Rosch was puzzled. What the hell was up with the formal call?
“Uh, yes, Private Chann, Pilot Rosch does read you,” Rosch replied. “How may I assist you today?”
“Thank you, yes, I have been asked to obtain a parts list from you concerning the needed repairs to the ship, Assault Transport Romper,” Chann stated.
Stated. Like he was reading from a manual.
“You bump your head down there, Chann?” Rosch asked.
“Excuse me?” Chann replied. “I am sorry, but I do not understand the reference.”
“You don’t understand the…?” Rosch replied. “Whatever, Chann. I don’t know what you are up to, but I am not in the mood for jokes. Did Nordanski put you up to this? This sounds like a Nordanski gag.”
“No, Private Nordanski did not put me up to anything,” Chann replied.
There was a long pause, and Rosch almost thought that the signal was lost.
“Sergeant Manheim has given me the task of acquiring the list of needed parts,” Chann continued.
“Did he, now?” Rosch said. “Manheim said you should call me to ask for that list?”
Another long pause.
“Yes.”
“Then Manheim’s an idiot! You can tell him I said that!” Rosch snapped. “I’m busy making the damn repairs, Chann! I don’t have time to get an Eight Million Gods damned list for you! That’s what I have a co-pilot for! Go bother Teffurg, will ya?”
“Co-pilot Teffurg will have the list?” Chann asked.
“Yes, Co-pilot Teffurg will have the list!” Rosch replied. “What is wrong with you?”
“I am perfectly fine,” Chann said. “My apologies for the misunderstanding. I will contact Co-Pilot Teffurg now. Goodbye.”
“Eat me!” Rosch snarled.
The comm went dead, and Rosch could only stand there and fume for a minute before she was able to gather herself and get going once more.
“Bug me about a parts list while I’m hiking half the damn ship’s hull just for a master command module,” Rosch grumbled. “Damned idiot Marine.”
***
“That could have gone better,” Taman said, as he sat next to Chann. “The interface with your consciousness is not quite dialed in. I had to do a lot of extrapolation to figure out your speech pattern. I believe I raised suspicion in your pilot.”
Chann couldn’t reply. He’d lost all control over his speech centers as soon as Taman had made the comm call to Rosch. Taman had explained that he needed to override Chann’s comm implant so that the signal had the proper access to the Romper’s secure channels. Using an outside channel would have been even more suspicious.
“Taman?” a man asked, moving quickly across the huge flesh factory of a room. “Taman? The sentries have arrived with Sergeant Manheim. Where should they put him? Is he to be included in the appropriation?”
“Probably not, Gaff,” Taman said. “Marine sergeants are not known for their malleable psyches. He would fight us too much.”
“Oh, then should he be disposed of?” Gaff asked.
“No, no, he could still be useful,” Taman said. “We might be able to extract some intel from his brain. After that, his flesh can be used as raw material. I am sure he has a very healthy muscular structure. We can transfer that to one of the weaker organic models for an upgrade.”
“Yes, good idea,” Gaff said.
He cocked his head and his eyes glazed over for a moment. In seconds, four armored sentries came walking up with Manheim in hand. They didn’t say a word to Taman or Gaff as they passed by and were soon lost in the maze of tanks and vats.
“Has Looffu checked in?” Taman asked Gaff. “I haven’t heard him in the collective voice for a while.”
“He is still disposing of Private Ma’ha,” Gaff said. “The storm is interfering with communication in the outer buildings.”
“The storm,” Taman said. He leaned in over Chann. “You have no idea how glad I will be to take leave of this planet and those constant storms.”
Chann wanted to scream at the face that loomed over him, but he couldn’t and that made him want to scream even more. A far-off cry nearly sent him into a seizure as he realized Kay was still alive somewhere in the massive room.
Taman chuckled.
/> “Yes, you are wondering about your lover, aren’t you?” Taman said. “No, I cannot read minds, but I can read yours.”
Taman held up a tablet with a raised holo display that showed a pattern of spikes and waves.
“This is you, Private Chann,” Taman said. “You, broken down into a simplistic energy reading. Most people, with a few racial exceptions, see this as nothing but just another graph. To a person like me, one that is an evolved AI, I see your entire personality.”
Taman pointed at a sharp spike that pulsed red.
“And that is your thoughts concerning Private Kay,” Taman said. “Over the decades, I have learned to spot and interpret different emotions. This one is not quite love. It is very much full of lust, but also with a good amount of caring. Yes, yes, all Marines care for each other. It’s the way of your lot. But this is obviously different. Tell me, Private Chann, how long have you two being seeing each other?”
Taman raised his eyebrows as if he expected an answer then burst out laughing.
“No, you won’t be telling me anything,” he said. “Not to worry. Once your mind is fully prepped for appropriation then we will learn the truth. Hopefully, you will stay sane enough for us to know all of your little secrets. I do like you, Private Chann. There is grit in your mental state. We can use grit.”
Chann’s lips sputtered as he desperately tried to speak the multitude of curses that sat heavy on his tongue.
“Oh, what a fighter you are,” Taman said. He made some adjustments to the holo and Chann’s lips pressed together so hard that they went white. “That’s better. Gotta curb that freewill of yours if you are to join us.
“Now, how about we contact Co-Pilot Teffurg to see what parts are needed to get these repairs underway. We have a very narrow window during this storm. When it dies down, the shipyard will be covered over once more, and then we’ll have to struggle to dig out what is needed. Such wasted effort.”
***
“AI, please give me a readout of all systems that can be fully repaired, a readout of systems that can be partially repaired, and systems that cannot be repaired at all,” Teffurg ordered.
