Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Boxed Set (Books 1 - 9)

by James David Victor

  “We shouldn’t split our force, Torent,” Jack whispered, looking out for the Chitins that lurked just out of sight.

  Torent grabbed Jack’s shoulder and shoved him hard. “Don’t refuse my order, Forge,” Torent shouted.

  Jack spotted the sudden movement of a shadow falling over the path ahead. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the edge of the hill. “Here they come,” he shouted as the first Chitin came on.

  Jack fired a burst into the first Chitin. The slime spurted out from the holes the pulse rounds tore through the rubbery flesh. The Chitin fell to one side, the tentacles thrashing on the ground, but it kept coming in a lurching, scuttling pace. A second Chitin appeared and scurried over the wounded one.

  “Open fire,” Jack called. He knelt, aimed, and fired another burst into the second Chitin. And then came a third and a fourth.

  Torent stood next to Jack and fired. “Take them down. Open fire.”

  The rush of Chitins overcame the fire laid down by Jack, Torent, and the recruits. They were quickly overrun, disarmed by the flailing tentacles, and carried away by the Chitin drones.

  The recruits were taken away by the Chitin flesh drones and dropped into a pit. A sign was staked out at the edge of the pit that read, ‘Killed by Chitin scum. Welcome to hell.’

  “You should have flanked right when I told you to,” Torent said bitterly.

  “You shouldn’t have shouted out. You brought them all down on us. Now the other squad is going to win the exercise.”

  A hill with the Chitin flag was taken down, signaling that the other squad had, indeed, beaten the Chitins and won the day.

  “Should have flanked right,” Torent mumbled.

  The squad stood in line. Before them stood Jack and Torent. Lieutenant Crippin paced in front of them.

  “Forge,” she said. “Your squad leader tells me you disobeyed an order.”

  “Sir, it was a bad order, sir.”

  “All orders are bad, hayseed. You follow them all the same. Maybe you think you should be squad leader.”

  “Sir,” Jack shouted, “no, sir.”

  “And why not?” Crippin paced behind the pair.

  “Don’t want to be in the military at all, sir.”

  Crippin stopped behind Jack. She leaned close to his ear. “Yet you are countermanding a squad leader’s orders and suggesting your own strategy. Don’t split the force, did you say?”

  “Sir, yes, sir. I wanted to win the game.”

  “This is not a game, hayseed. You get me?”

  “Sir, no, sir. It is a game. We were fighting drones. These are not real Chitins.”

  “No, they are not. Do you want me to throw you into action against Chitin scum without practice?”

  “Sir, no, sir,” Jack shouted. His brother had been killed by the Chitins and no one had more reason to hate them than Jack. But Jack wanted to study, not fight.

  “And why not?” Crippin resumed her pacing.

  “I don’t want to fight Chitins at all, sir.”

  “Coward, are you?”

  “Sir, no, sir. I don’t think we should be fighting them at all, sir. We came to this system. We colonized Eros and Ares, we took all the moons and then we started pumping H2 out of their home planet’s atmosphere. We attacked them. They are only defending themselves, sir.”

  “Sergeant Hacker,” Crippin shouted. “Take this traitor to the punishment ground.”

  Hacker grabbed Jack by the collar and hauled him off the ground. Jack’s feet barely touched the ground as he was dragged away.

  The punishment ground was a small patch of beaten earth at the rear of the squad bunkhouse. A post was planted in the ground and stood four meters tall. Straps hung from the top with loops at the end. Hacker pushed Jack’s face into the post and pulled the loops over Jack’s hands. The straps were pulled tight and lifted Jack up onto his toes.

  “Recruit Forge is guilty of insurrection.” Crippin stood in front of the assembled recruits. “We are fighting for our lives. We cannot tolerate traitorous rhetoric from any of you. Forge will receive three lashes. From each recruit. Squad, line up.”

  The first lash stung like a hornet and snatched his breath away. The second stung like a swarm. After the third lash, Jack gasped for air before he screamed in pain.

  The beating was fierce and Jack slipped out of consciousness. He was jolted back to life by a mild sting from Hacker’s tazer, a low yield shock designed to revive rather than stun. Finally, Torent himself stepped forward and delivered three of the heaviest lashes. Jack yelled in pain. He felt the straps slacken and heard Crippin call out for Torent to assist Jack.

  Jack fell to the ground. He heard Crippin call out to Hacker as she walked closer. “Sergeant Hacker. Administer the final lashes.”

  Jack fell to the ground and looked up, pleading for mercy, but then he saw Hacker grab Torent and fasten him against the post. A short whip was in Hacker’s hands. He quickly delivered three sharp lashes. Torent yelled out at each one and cried out, asking why.

  “You ask why?” Crippin said to Torent as he crumpled to the ground. “Because you refused to listen to good advice when it was given and brought the whole pack of Chitin scum down on your group with your shouting. That’s why. A good squad leader listens to his squad.”

  12

  Jack woke in his bunk, his cuts from the flogging covered in sticky ointment that stuck to the rough bed sheets. It peeled away with a scratchy, scraping pain as he sat up. It was the start of a day of rest and recuperation for the squad. Hacker had delivered a stack of ration bars. Crippin had delivered the news that they were free for one day.

  Torent stood at the side of Jack’s bed and pushed him back down. A group of Torent’s allies stood around.

  “You are trouble, Forge,” Torent said.

  “Give him another thrashing?” one of Torent’s gang said.

  Torent stared at Jack with murder in his eye. “No,” Torent conceded reluctantly. “Give him a chance to recover. I need my squad fit if we are going to beat those Chitin scum tomorrow.”

  “But he don’t want to kill no Chits,” the ally said. “He’s a coward.”

  “He’s a good shot,” Torent said. “He can help us win.”

  “If he decides to fight.”

  “He will,” Torent said, pushing his fist against Jack’s shoulder and pressing him down to the rough bunk. “He will or I will snap his kraving fingers off.”

  The bunkhouse was rowdy that day. The recruits invented games and blew off steam, filling the bunkhouse with raucous noise. While they played, Jack carefully pulled his recruit uniform on over his lacerated skin and left the house to wander around the complex.

  Crossing the parade ground, Jack walked to the hill, climbed to the summit, and looked around the entire camp for the first time. The training ground below was empty and still. The complex of buildings around the bunkhouse included the small buildings that served as Crippin’s residence. The last building in the complex was covered in antenna and was most likely a communication office.

  Jack spotted one other building set away from the training ground and the complex. It was not far off. Jack could have made it in a few minutes at full sprint if he had been fit, but in his worn and battered condition, he knew it would be a long yet manageable walk.

  The training moon was barren in every direction. In the hour it took Jack to wander over to the building, the terrain didn’t change at all. It was all rocks and dust, the same dark, barren rock. No life except for the recruits, Crippin, Hacker, and whatever other vermin the transport craft had brought to the small moon.

  The building was rundown like everything else Jack had seen, apart from the brand-new pulse rifle he’d been fighting with the day before. The walls of the building were the same composite that the military spacecraft were made of but it was pitted and cracked. Jack rubbed his hand over it and its surface flaked off and crumbled away to dust.

  Walking around the perimeter, Jack came across a w
indow, a transparent section of the same composite material. It was also cracked and flaked away at his the touch. Inside, Jack saw a series of workbenches. There were dust covers thrown over some hidden piles of what looked like machinery.

  This had been a maintenance shed, or maybe a mechanic training shop once. Now it was a forgotten casualty of a war that had cost mankind everything except their tenuous existence. Jack moved around the building, looking for a way in.

  The door was shut but unlocked. Whoever had mothballed and closed this facility had not expected anyone to come and interfere with it. Jack slid the door open.

  The air inside was musty. It was also dark. Shards of light cutting through the dust that swirled about, kicked up by Jack’s boots.

  Throwing aside one of the covers, Jack found a black military drone. He recognized the model from his brother’s virtual reality games. It was a weaponized reconnaissance drone used to scout ahead of the main force. Its hull was cracked and covered in dust. Similar drones had been used by university campus security and by local police forces, before they had all been requisitioned to assist in the fight against the Chitins.

  Jack walked around the drone to the service hatch. He pressed and clawed at it. He knew this model of drone and it would be a moment of escape from his brutal military training to investigate the machine. The panel popped open.

  The biomech circuitry was putrid. It spewed out over the side of the hull and onto the toes of Jack’s boots. It stank of rotten meat and sour milk.

  Backing away from the drone and the stink, Jack threw aside more of the dust covers, looking for any abandoned equipment. There were several small surveillance drones, a supply delivery drone, and parts for the weaponized reconnaissance drone. Jack picked through the parts for anything usable. He realized that it was the remains of at least two other reconnaissance drones that had been stripped for parts. He found a section of hull that showed signs of energy weapon damage. The composite hull was blistered around the entry wound and the edge was bubbled to a brittle foam. It looked like the work of a Chitin plasma spear.

  Jack found a collection of power cells for the drones. All were spent, but at least one was clean. Jack cracked open the seal and took a sniff. It was healthy, even though it was unpowered. Jack dug around and found some cleaning equipment and set about cleaning the putrid biomech circuitry of the military drone.

  Sitting in the dust and debris of the workshop, Jack lost himself in the work. He cleaned and primed the reconnaissance drone. He studied his work in the failing light. It looked good. He’d found the parts he needed. He really wanted to check his work. All he needed was a power supply, and he knew where he could find one.

  The door to the workshop slid open. The rattling noise and scrapping surprised Jack. He turned and jumped to his feet.

  “Lieutenant Crippin, sir,” Jack said. He stood at attention. He was going to get tazed for this, at the very least.

  “I guessed it would be you out here. Stand at ease, recruit.” Crippin looked around the workshop. “I had to flog you,” she said, walking around the cleaned and repaired drone. “You were right, of course. We attacked them first, but I can’t have you saying that stuff in front of everyone.” Crippin opened the service hatch on the drone and looked inside. “We used to be so sophisticated. We’ve thrown everything at these Chits. We’ve lost mech and manpower. We are falling back all the time. They are just too difficult to hit and they find it too easy to hit us. We lost the Destroyer Libra today.”

  Crippin walked toward the door. She hesitated. “My last group of recruits was on that ship. Go to bed, Forge. Busy day tomorrow.”

  13

  The bunkhouse was bustling when Jack entered. Bill, sitting alone, stood up and walked to Jack’s side.

  “You’ve been away all day. Where’d you go?”

  “Just out.”

  “You missed rations. Hacker brought them in and threw them to our bunks. Torent took yours.”

  Jack looked over to Torent. One of his cronies was smearing lotion over his back where he’d taken his lashes. Torent spotted Jack and pushed away from his cronies.

  He walked over to Jack, shirtless. There were gang tattoos on his chest and arms, old knife wounds, and one large scar across his stomach. He squared up to Jack.

  “You been absent, Forge.”

  “I had free time.”

  “I want you to let me know if you are going to disappear again. You get me?” Torent turned his head, pointing his ear toward Jack.

  “Okay.”

  “Answer correctly, Forge.”

  “Screw you, Torent. You’re not an officer.”

  “I will be, so you’d better get used to treating me like it.” Torent held out his hand and one of his groupies produced a ration block.

  “I need my squad at full strength. Eat.” He pressed the silver block into Jack’s hands, then slung an arm over Jack’s shoulder and walked along the bunkhouse. Jack spotted Bill attempting to follow but being held back by Torent’s cronies. “I can read people, Forge. Read you right, didn’t I? Annoying, and smart. And I can read him too.” Torent jabbed a thumb back toward Bill. “Watch out for him. He’s real trouble.” Torent pushed Jack onto his bunk. “Now eat and rest. I want you ready for action tomorrow.”

  The siren’s wail surprised Jack and Torent as it pierced the noise of the bunkhouse. Torent looked around, trying to understand what it meant. Then the first explosion shook the bunkhouse.

  Jack crouched down as dust fell from the roof. Recruits were screaming, many cowering under their bunks. A second explosion shook the ground.

  Torent stood alone in the middle of the bunkhouse. “On your feet,” he shouted. Torent walked along the middle of the bunkhouse shouting. “On your feet. Get your jackets buttoned and your rifles loaded.”

  The doors burst open and Sergeant Hacker charged in. He went to the far end of the bunkhouse and began waving both his arms wildly, waving the recruits out the door.

  Crippin was crouched on one knee on the parade ground. She was fastening on a jacket with pouches for ammunition clips. Her rifle was propped up against her. She waved the recruits over.

  “Take a knee and listen up. This is not a drill. A Chitin craft has been detected approaching the training moon. We’ve already lost contact with Training Base Delta. We are going to defend ourselves. The Destroyer Scorpio is on route with a battalion of Fleet Marines on board. Until then, we’re on our own. We must fight or die. Do you get me?”

  Sergeant Hacker dragged a trolley with ammunition packs out into the parade ground.

  “Remember when these were just a bunch of hayseeds, Sergeant?”

  Hacker began handing out ammunition.

  “They grow up so fast.” Crippin primed her rifle and tested the sights.

  An explosion in the distance lit up the sky. “We will take a defensive position on the hill. Follow me.”

  Crippin set off toward the hill. She moved fast and stayed low. The recruits followed. Jack checked that his rifle was ready for action. He was certain this was some training exercise. Some around him also seemed unconvinced, while others were terrified. Another explosion in the distance set up a ripple of noise that spread through the recruits.

  “Quiet,” Crippin called in a harsh whisper. “Squad Leader, keep your squad quiet.”

  Crippin moved quickly and Hacker brought up the rear, urging the stragglers on. Jack kept up with Crippin, Torent not far behind. They reached the summit of the hill and had a wide view of the surrounding ground. A fire was burning just over the horizon beyond the training ground of small hills and pathways.

  “We could take cover in the training ground,” Torent suggested.

  “We’ll be separated by the hills. We won’t be able to fire as a unit. It’ll reduce our fire concentration and we’ll be too easy to break up,” Jack said.

  “Forge is right, Squad Leader,” Crippin said. “We will set up a firing line here and hold them off until the Scorpio’s battalion a
rrives.”

  “Where are they?” Torent asked.

  Jack looked down his sights and scanned the horizon.

  “Delta Training Base is twenty-five kilometers in that direction.” Crippin pointed to the horizon beyond the training ground, toward the fire that lit up the sky. “If they come for us, we will see them from up here.”

  The last of the recruits came to the top of the hill. Sergeant Hacker dropped next to Crippin and scanned the skyline through his rifle sights. He nudged Crippin and pointed to the far horizon.

  Jack looked and saw a sudden flash. A faint line arched into the sky and came slowly toward the hill. Jack looked through his sights and saw a Chitin flying through the air, a jetpack flaring and creating the faint streak.

  “Reconnaissance soldier,” Crippin said. “Forge. Shoot that scum out of my sky.”

  Jack aimed at the small flash of the jetpack. He breathed easy and fired a single shot. The arching soldier tumbled in midair, tentacles flailing. The jetpack flared again and brought the Chitin soldier even closer.

  “Kill it, now,” Crippin shouted.

  Jack got up on one knee and took aim again. Torent copied the stance. The two began firing. Jack saw the Chitin coming closer, and that round after round were slamming home, tearing chunks out of it. A tentacle fell away, ripped off by multiple hits, and then the jetpack exploded.

  The explosion lit up the sky and the ground in a brilliant white light. The ground in the distance seemed to seethe and writhe. It looked alive.

  Jack spotted the look in Crippin’s eye as she looked at Hacker. Jack knew it was not good. Crippin and Hacker both took all their extra ammunition packs from their pockets and placed them on the ground before them.

  “A line,” Crippin shouted and pointed along the summit of the hill. “Pick your targets. Hold your fire.”