Scouts Out: Books One and Two

by Danny Loomis

  Soon as this discovery was made, the Second Diaspora began. Hundreds of ships were constructed, and whoever could afford to outfit one was allowed to leave Earth. Eventually, the rest of humanity caught up with the first colonists. Or at least two of their planets, so far.

  When the generation ship arrived at Edo, 900 years had passed. Two thousand of them remained alive. Their A.I. had assisted them in setting up a viable colony, helping construct twenty-five birth centers where eggs and sperm were harvested and used to produce thousands of young. This method had remained in effect for over one hundred years before natural births once more became the norm.

  Not much more was known about the planet, except that it had developed a lucrative trade in robotics and miniaturizing of equipment. Their art work was also prized throughout human space. No one was allowed to land on the planet, so all face-to-face meetings and trade agreements were made on the huge space station, through which all commerce with the planet was conducted. No hint of their style of government was in the available records.

  There was much more in the restricted files he was able to access due to his implant, more than was in the public ones. In fascination Ian read on, oblivious to the time.

  Two hours later Ian finished the last file. Damn. No wonder the Confederation was making a stop-over. It would be a real feather in someone’s cap if they could convince Edo to join the Confederation. Their ability to churn out vast numbers of quality machined parts and tools was unsurpassed in human space. They must have one hell of a production line capacity. The most impressive fact was their ability to do it without pollution. This ability was avidly sought after by many planets.

  Ian stood and reached high in a bone-popping stretch. Groaning in relief he left the library and began double-timing towards the front gate. Hopefully he could still catch up with the rest of his fire team. Had to ensure everyone made it back by 0600 tomorrow, when they began their final prep work for the trip to Bifrost.

  * * *

  The next three days were a whirlwind of preparation. Ian barely found an hour a night to spend in the Wasp simulator. On top of that, he’d been sent a cube of data which covered how the Wasp ran, what powered it, and in general covered its performance, plus maintenance from one end to the other. It was a relief to fall in for the final inspection prior to boarding the shuttle that would take them to their home away from home, the newest class of military spacecraft, called carriers.

  As was the custom, the entire platoon fell out with them. After a painstaking inspection by Warrant Boudreau, Brita led them off at a slow trot to the airfield just outside the back gate of the post, only four kilometers away. Since their duffels and weaponry had already been loaded on the shuttle, all that was left was their bodies. Warrant Boudreau brought up the rear of the formation, along with SFC Smith.

  Fifty meters from the shuttle they slowed to a walk. Warrant Boudreau turned to Franny and offered his hand.

  “Get used to being Platoon Leader, Franny. I’m gonna retire when I get back.”

  The surprise announcement left Franny in shock, with his mouth open. It didn’t close until his platoon leader disappeared into the bowels of the shuttle which began taxiing to the runway. He came to attention and saluted.

  Brita eyed Warrant Boudreau as he buckled into his seat next to her. “What was that all about? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Franny caught with nothing to say, let alone with his mouth open.”

  “He just found out he’s not going to be Platoon Sergeant when we get back. Kinda blew him away.”

  “What…” A look of concern crossed Brita’s face. “There something wrong with him?”

  “No. He’s being promoted to Platoon Leader once I retire. And close your mouth, it doesn’t look ladylike.”

  “No shit,” Brita said, a bemused look crossing her face. “That was quite a bomb to leave him with.”

  “That it was,” he said, with a look of satisfaction. “I’ve been trying to surprise the sonofabitch for years. Finally succeeded.” With that he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Three hours later the shuttle began its approach to the Confederation Carrier (CC) York. Ian tapped into the shuttle’s navigational comm and watched their approach. This was his first time viewing a Wasp carrier. At four kilometers long and one wide, it was as large as a superdreadnought but less armor. For offensive firepower it only had a 20 megajoule laser along its upper spine, pointed forward.

  Defensively it had a graser covering the four large Bollard-Singh Cherenkov drives pointing rearward, two het lasers per side, plus dozens of defensive missile tubes and smaller lasers. It had the capability to carry fifty Wasp fighters plus a dozen shuttles. There was a five hundred meter wide launch pad on its top, and from what he remembered, it sported top of the line stealth capability. Helped make up for its somewhat weak armor and defensive weapons array. It could also store five thousand space mines and ten extra Wasps.

  This made it one of the most offensively dangerous long range ships in space. Its strategic value hadn’t yet been measured, since it was brand new this year to the fleet. Every Wing of the Confederation fleet would eventually receive eight. Presently there were two with Third Wing.

  The shuttle curved around to the front of the carrier, and approached the left recovery bay. Twenty-four smaller openings in the bay gave it the geometric look of the inside of a beehive. Each separate opening could admit a shuttle or Wasp, which meant up to 48 ships could be recovered at a time. A staggering number of ships to orchestrate without having any screwups. As they passed through the temporarily weakened force screen of one of the openings, external gravity returned. The shuttle’s wheels touched down and were immediately locked into place.

  They filed out of the shuttle and followed a guide who took them through an airlock and down a passageway that seemed to go for kilometers, punctuated by airlocks every fifty meters. After the fifth airlock they turned left into a large room with a dozen doors leading from it. Their quarters for the next several weeks.

  Brita turned and pointed to the far left doorway. “Alpha fire team, first two rooms. Bravo, next two. Middle doorway is to the chow hall, door to the right is my room. This room will be for exercise. Any questions? Then move out, and get your gear stored. Meet back here in fifteen minutes for a full orientation briefing.”

  Each room would hold up to four people, to include their gear. Besides the larger space, the main difference from their normal barracks was no bunks. Several hammocks hung from each side, fastened to the wall and a narrow pole which slanted out from the base of the wall and served to anchor the other end. They’d spent enough time on board ships to be used to this. A pile of duffel bags was in the middle of the floor, all belonging to the other fire team.

  “Shit,” Pointy said in disgust. “Wonder what else is screwed up?” Resignedly he grabbed two duffels and started towards the door, followed by Two Eagles and J.C., each with more duffels in tow. Minutes later they returned with Alpha team’s bags.

  “J.C., Two Eagles, you guys can have the room next door,” Ian said. “The rest of us’ll be in here. Let’s meet in the main room in ten minutes.”

  Ian and Pointy had barely gotten seated in the main room with the rest of the squad when Brita and Warrant Boudreau entered. “Stay seated,” Boudreau said, and moved to the front of the squad. “For the rest of this voyage, this area is to be treated as a working facility. No one will come to attention when an officer comes in. You’ve got better things to do with your time.”

  “That’s for sure,” Pointy muttered, earning a glare from Brita.

  “Brita will supply you with information concerning not only Bifrost, but our next port of call, Edo. First priority will be Edo. Study everything on the discs. I want you all to become experts on the Edo system.”

  “Why the push to learn information about Edo, Sir?” Sgt. Doyle asked.

  “I realize we won’t be in the system for more than two or three weeks, but no matter how short a time, you should
know as much as you can about any system you’re in. No telling what could happen. The Admiral could call on us instead of his precious Marines to be the honor guard for his landing.”

  That brought a round of laughter. Just trying to imagine Long Range Scouts as an honor guard was like seeing Space Marines crawl around in the mud. Even the regular ground-pounders referred to the Marines as “Peacocks of the Navy”.

  “An even better reason exists,” Brita said. “Your Platoon Leader has ordered it. Any more stupid questions?” She glared at each of her charges in turn, daring any of them to open their mouths. “Didn’t think so.” She swung back towards Warrant Boudreau and awaited the rest of the briefing.

  “I’ve gotten the scoop on what our force is made up of,” he said, turning on a holo in which seventeen ships of the line were pictured. “One superdreadnought, three dreadnoughts, three heavy cruisers, three lights, four destroyers, two corvettes and our ship the York.”

  “This seems to be a pretty large force to just be waving the flag,” Ian said. “Is there something else going on, Sir?”

  Warrant Boudreau nodded soberly. “You’re right, Irish. The Alliance has been rattling its saber pretty loudly in this sector of space. We heard they showed up on the doorstep of the Edo system, supposedly for a social call. Intelligence feels it’s more than that, and wants this task force to out-saber rattle them. I see it as another step in a game of one-upmanship between us. We also want Edo to know we’ll help if they ask. That’s why we’re bringing an Ambassador-at-Large to meet with their planetary leaders.”

  “So why’d we get included in this little parade?” Brita asked.

  “Once they’ve supposedly scared off the big bad Alliance forces, they’re going to make a tour along the entire frontier between us and the Alliance. Their next stop after Edo is Bifrost. They’ll pick us up on their way back, which will be at the same time we’re due for rotation back home.”

  “The other grunts aboard are two companies of Space Marines, and a company of regular infantry, Captain Stanton’s. If any of you ever have the time off and want to visit ’em, they’re two blast doors to the rear, and two hallways right.” Most of the LRS platoon had accepted Captain Stanton’s Charlie Company as equals, something rare for them. The fact his company was made up of fifty percent women didn’t hurt, either. Several friendships had developed over their last training stint together at Camp Badass.

  He gestured at the hologram of the ships. “I’ll leave this cube with you. It has the operational plans of deployment for moving into the nexus, and what we’ll do tactically as we emerge. Irish, the Wasp pilots on board have invited you to join ’em for training. I agreed, long’s we get you back three days before break-out. That gives you two weeks of uninterrupted training as a Wasp pilot.” Ian felt a thrill run through him. Working with actual pilots. This should help his learning curve.

  When Boudreau left, Brita turned to Ian. “What he didn’t tell you is you still have to study everything about the Edo system. We’ll have a written test on the subject in four days. Be back here long enough to take that test.”

  “Can do, Staff,” Ian said. “In fact, I’d like to take the test tomorrow morning if it’s all right with you.”

  She gave him a long stare. “Last time you did any speed learning with your bio implant it almost burnt out your brain. You’re not gonna force it to do too much, are you?”

  “No, Ma’am! I already spent a couple of sessions learning the material before we left Alamo.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “Tomorrow morning it is. You’d better have your gear packed. They’ll probably want you to spend as much time as possible with them. Plus it’s almost a kilometer to their operations area. Save you from unnecessary trips back and forth every day. While he’s gone, I’ll be team leader for the rest of you sad sacks. Right now, though, I want all of us to study this holo on the ships in our task force. Know their names and where they are in formation. Then I want you to learn the layout of the York, so all of you can get around it with your eyes closed. Let’s get to it.”

  The next week passed in a whirlwind of activity for Ian. Working with others who also had a bio link was stimulating to say the least. His learning curve about how the Wasp was put together accelerated, as did his skills in the simulator. By the end of the week he had caught up with the rest of the pilots in flying ability, and had scored higher than anyone in shooting skills.

  “You’re doing all right, Ian,” said Lieutenant Commander “Scotty” Searles, the Wasp flight leader. “One thing, it’s a whole different ball game when you fly one for real.” He clapped Ian on the shoulder. “Just to make it a bit more interesting, I’ll start putting you head-to-head in the simulator against the other pilots instead of against the programmed stuff you’ve gotten so far.”

  The next day Ian entered the simulator with a bit of trepidation. How would he stack up against experienced pilots? He shook off his doubts, buckled in and placed his hands on the control panels imbedded in each arm of the form-fitting seat. The door closed with a solid thunk, and the tactical screen lit up.

  A sexy female voice identical to the one he’d heard in the Virtual Reality room of Godiva’s Emporium startled him. “The map you’re presently viewing is the third quadrant of the asteroid belt three solar units beyond the orbit of Alamo. Your action sequence will take place against Lieutenant J.G. Franco. Ten seconds until exit from ship.”

  Ian barely had time to flex his fingers and settle himself a little more firmly when he was underway. He dove right and almost straight “down” in relation to the York. Circling to the rear of the large carrier, he began a 360 degree scan.

  “Enemy sighted, eleven o’clock,” said the sultry voice he’d decided to nickname “Sal”. He increased speed and climbed two hundred kilometers “up” in relation to the contact he now saw as a red blinking dot on his screen. At extreme range he fired off a pair of Shrike missiles, then dove behind the York. He waited a moment, then streaked around the left side, particle beams pulsing. When the startled enemy plane rolled away from the beamer, Ian achieved a close-in lock and fired another shrike missile. Seconds later there was a flare on his screen. “Enemy destroyed,” Sal said.

  Ian blinked when the screen faded and a new voice came on-line. “Not bad, Staff Sergeant,” said Lieutenant Jancowski, the Operations Officer for the squadron of Wasp fighters. “How’d you like to try two at once?”

  “Bring ’em on, Sir,” Ian said, a smile on his face. That’d been pretty easy. All the months of training in the simulator at the fort had paid off.

  He relaxed and once more flexed his fingers. The screen lit up again. This time he was already in space, about a thousand klicks to the rear of the York. Two red blips were launched towards him, leaving him microseconds to react. Instinctively he bored straight in and fired two shrikes. At this range his missiles reached both ships within five seconds. Only one had time to fire a missile, and it was unaimed. “Both targets destroyed,” Sal said. The screen abruptly went dead, and the door sighed open.

  “Alright, Staff Sergeant, you can come out now,” Scotty said. “Once you’ve got your bearings, join us in the chow hall for a cup of coffee. We’d like to discuss what just happened.” From the stern look on Scotty’s face Ian was sure he’d done something stupid this time. He clambered out and headed into the dining room, wracking his brain for what he’d done wrong.

  Four sets of eyes tracked him to their table. As he sat, Scotty stuck a finger in his chest. “Alright, Staff Sergeant. What’s the story?”

  “W-what story, Sir?” Ian asked, his nervousness increasing.

  Lieutenant Nancy Cooper stared daggers through him. “Which wing did you fly with before coming on board? And what’s the idea of the NCO masquerade?”

  Ian visibly collected himself. “I’m not sure what you mean, Ma’am, but I’ve been a Staff Sergeant for about a month now. The LRS was my first active duty assignment after training. You can ask Warrant Boudreau.”
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  The four pilots looked at each other, then at Ian. Scotty leaned forward, a quizzical look on his face. “You mean to tell us you’ve never flown a Wasp before?”

  “No, Sir. Only worked on the simulators.”

  “How long have you trained on them?” Lieutenant Cooper asked.

  “Well—I started a year ago, and put in about two hours a month until a few weeks ago when I found out I’d been accepted to the next Wasp flight training program.”

  “No tactical training?” Scotty asked.

  Ian shrugged. “No, Sir. I’ve just gotten in the simulator and done what seemed natural.”

  “Okay, Ian. Sorry if we seemed to come down hard on you. Why don’t you continue to work with the training programs already on the simulator? I’ll get back with you later on tonight.” Ian hurriedly left, relief emanating from every pore.

  Searles watched Ian leave the room. “I think we got ourselves a natural, boys and girls. A real natural. Nancy, get with Intel and find out more about him. This is the kind of talent we need. Wherever he’s been prior to this can’t be as important as getting him assigned full-time to our crew.”

  ABOARD C.C. YORK (DAY +8):

  Ian leaned back and rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. Four hours of uninterrupted study on the tactical uses of a Wasp, then another two on how to fly an attack shuttle. The shuttle was much easier. More of a push the button and drive conveyance. Their ruggedness and stability made them the workhorse of the fleet. They were used to travel between ships, planets and space stations. Plus anywhere else you wanted to go while in-system.