Havoc of War (Warp Marine Corps Book 5)

by C. J. Carella

  The ship’s doctor mentioned he’d never seen anybody show up to sick bay with a broken hand and a big shit-eating grin on his face.

  Starbase Malta, Xanadu System, 169 AFC

  “Hear ye, hear ye,” Captain Gupta, Commandant of Starbase Malta, announced on the all-hands channel, interrupting every transmission, show or VR flick in the facility, both military or civilian, no doubt to the great annoyance of many.

  This better be good, Heather McClintock thought. She’d been in a foul mood for a while. Three months of negotiations, and Third Fleet had only been back for a week before being sent off into Lamprey space for a show-the-flag cruise meant to impress both the Lhan Arkh and their current dance partners, the Circle. If Peter got killed after the war was all but over, she’d be pissed off enough to engage in some off-the-books wet work.

  “On this date,” Captain Gupta said. “September Nineteenth, One-Hundred and Sixty-Nine After First Contact, the United Stars of America, the Greater Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere, the Galactic Imperium and the Lhan Arkh Congress have signed a binding peace treaty, ending all hostilities between all parties. Malta Base is now at DEFCON-Five. New watch assignments to be announced on a departmental or sectional basis. All wartime restrictions and regulations will be lifted at 1800 hours this evening. Leave and liberty schedules are being revised and will be posted shortly.”

  There was a pause, and Heather could hear cheering both on the background of the all-hands transmission as well as from outside her office. She felt like shouting out herself, but resisted the temptation, courtesy of years of emotionally-repressive McClintock upbringing. Even they couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes, though. Must be dust or something.

  It’s over. It’s finally over.

  “To all personnel in Malta, military and civilian: thank you for your service, labors and sacrifices. Victory would have been impossible without them. God Bless America, and all of us. That is all.”

  That wasn’t all, of course. Heather set side her millennia-old data analysis and got to work on digging out the details. The full text of the peace agreement would have to wait until a ship arrived bearing it, of course. The QE-Telegram would only have the highlights, since even a major installation like Malta only had a few tens of thousands of characters in storage, making long-winded messages impossibly expensive, not to mention wasteful. But her clearance level allowed her to access the full telegram and draw her own conclusions.

  After a couple of minutes of reading, she was still happy but no longer ecstatic. Like all good diplomatic agreements, neither side had gotten everything it wanted.

  The biggest losers had been the Lampreys: in addition to the customary reparations and the surrender of all personnel involved in the Days of Infamy, they had agreed to demilitarize all its borders with human space and cede bases to the US Navy on those systems, in effect leaving their frontiers wide open to American forces. That had been a huge concession, but the only alternative would have been war with the US and the Imperium, a war the Lhan Arkh couldn’t hope to win. Especially with the Circle having extracted its own humiliating peace treaty after lopping off a hefty chunk of Congressional space.

  The Imperium would pay heavily for its attempted genocide, of course, if not quite as much as the Lampreys. The return of all interned humans, massive war reparations that would impoverish the Gal-Imps for decades to come, and withdrawal from several systems along the Xanadu-Imperium chain, giving the US a presence and a border with their former enemies, as well as access to numerous new trade routes. More sources of wealth and influence, and new neighbors, with the attendant troubles and opportunities. The CIA would be very busy over the next few years, establishing intelligence networks and buttressing old ones. They’d soon be dealing with two Blue Men factions, as well as the Leegor, whose only previous direct contact with the US had been during the Battle of New Texas. The Class Three aliens hadn’t been officially part of the war, and thus not signatories in the peace accords. Nobody knew if they would be neutrals or another potential enemy.

  It never ends.

  The US had won the largest conflict in recent galactic history, meaning a good four thousand years before First Contact had introduced humanity to the merciless realities of Starfarer civilization. In doing so, however, it had firmly established her species’ reputation as dangerous and near-supernatural beings, whose uncanny abilities relating to warp space made them somebody to be feared and, should it become possible, destroyed. The conflict had purchased years – maybe even centuries – of peace, however. Time to grow stronger, perhaps even near unassailable.

  Heather decided that there was more than enough cause for celebration. She only wished Peter could be here. Third Fleet would make its way back to human space soon enough, however. She had a strong feeling that he’d manage to survive until then. And ever since she got her t-wave implants, her hunches had a way to coming true more often than not. For the time being, she would just break open a bottle of Pinot, have a few drinks, and go to bed.

  Peace in our time.

  She hoped that phrase didn’t prove to be as empty as when it was first coined.

  New Texas System, 193 AFC

  “Are you sure, Matthew?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Major Peter Fromm, USWMC, Ret., nodded at the solemn teenager, fighting a smile at the slightly exasperated tone in his son’s voice. Matthew Fromm was an unusually serious kid – the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree – but he was still fifteen years old, with all the impatience of the young when approaching the threshold of adulthood.

  “I think going Maverick will give me the full experience of what it means to be a Marine,” Matthew went on. “I figure on joining up during the second half of Ob-Serv plus another ten years enlisted, then apply to OCS. and then get a commission.”

  Fromm nodded. That wasn’t particularly unusual nowadays. Former-enlisted officers were common as dirt; those who didn’t learn the wrong lessons during their grunt years often made excellent commanders. The rest ended up stuck as Second or First Ell-Tees for the rest of their careers. He approved of Matthew’s choice, although he knew that his son would soon learn things were never as easy or uncomplicated as he expected. Some lessons needed to be learned on one’s own. And this was as good a time to join the Corps as any. Twenty years of peace, except for the occasional police action or minor conflict; just enough action to keep the fresh blood from becoming too complacent, but without the constant threat of death that had loomed over most of Fromm’s tenure. That he wouldn’t wish on anybody.

  He leaned back on his chair, and his gaze moved past the tall, gangling teenager standing at fake-attention in front of him. The comfortable living room was full of happy memories: this was where he’d helped young Matthew and his sister Melissa learn their ABCs, where they’d celebrated birthdays and First Communions, where he’d gotten together with old friends and traded family stories. Hansen had retired a few years after making Major and also settled in New Texas. He and Fromm had worked for the same fabber consortium for many peaceful years.

  “How about you, Dad?”

  “How about me?”

  “Now that Mom’s gone and Melissa’s off on Ob-Serv, have you thought about, you know, going back? Back to the Corps?”

  Heather had been asked to rejoin the Agency a couple of months ago, and she’d reluctantly agreed. She was on her way to Xanadu System. Fromm might follow her there, or he might not; he hadn’t decided yet. Sometimes a long absence was just what a marriage needed to stay healthy. They’d said their goodbyes with real love and affection, though; that hadn’t changed, in war or peace.

  “No, Matthew. I won’t be rejoining the Corps.”

  He was done with all of that. Putting together his Company one more time after the war was over had been enough. That part of his life was over.

  Unless duty calls. Unless the Corps, the country, needs you.

  Fromm wanted to shake his head at his inner voice, but knew it was useless. S
ome things could not be denied. Duty was heavier than a mountain.

  “Was it that bad, Dad?”

  “Sometimes, it was that good,” he told his son. “Serving taught me things about myself I would have never learned otherwise. But I’ve gone through it. You’ll see.” And some things, I hope you never see, he didn’t say. Best not to tempt fate.

  “All right,” Matthew said. “I guess I will. I know it’s not going to be easy, or fun. But that’s the point, right? To show you’re a man. To show you can take all that crap and keep going.”

  Was I ever that gung-ho? Probably.

  “I…” The young man hesitated for a second, knowing he was going to say something corny, but he said it anyway. It might be corny, but also true. “I want to make you proud of me, Dad.”

  Fromm smiled at his son.

  “I already am.”

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  GLOSSARY

  (Note: Some of the military/Marine jargon below comes from current and past terms used by the US military; the rest are made up, on the grounds that new terms would have been developed over the decades since First Contact).

  03: Warp Marine Slang for someone with an infantry MOS, as opposed to a POG (see below).

  1369: A fake MOS that indicates an individual is unlucky and inclined to give oral pleasure to males of the species.

  AFC: After First Contact. The new US calendar has Year Zero beginning on the day the Risshah bombed the Earth, killing some four billion people.

  ALS-43: Automatic Launch System. Portable heavy weapon that fires a variety of 15mm ammunition, including grenades, armor-piercing and incendiary rounds. Also known as the All-Good or Alsie.

  Area Force Field: A heavy force field can generate a sphere hundreds or even thousands of yards in diameter. Vehicle-mounted versions are used to protect advancing troops.

  Blaster: Slang magnetically-propelled slug-throwers that usually fire plasma-explosive bullets. Also see Infantry Weapon Mk 3.

  Biosphere Classes: The four known forms of life in the galaxy, which appear to descend from four primordial biology groupings that somehow spread throughout known space. Class One. Two and Three Biospheres are carbon-based but each has a distinct biochemical makeup that make them incompatible with each other. Class Four entities are silicon-based and can only survive under environments other classes find uninhabitable.

  Bloomie: Thermal-pulse weapon of mass destruction, which generates a distinctive force field-contained ‘blooming onion’ shape that persists for several hours. Designed to minimize damage to the ecosystem, it generates heat without producing radiation or other effects, and the force fields radiate most of the heat beyond the planet’s atmosphere after reducing everything within the area of effect to molten slag.

  Bubblehead: slang for Navy spacers, from the shape of the ‘astronaut’ helmets issued during the early years after First Contact.

  CVW: Carrier Space Wing. Operational naval space fighter organization comprising all warp fighter squadrons in a carrier vessel.

  Dabrah: Pal, friend. Short for ‘dudebro.’

  Domass: Stupid, idiot. Contraction of the words ‘dumb’ and ‘ass.’

  ET: Extraterrestrial, common vernacular for aliens. Also rendered as Echo Tango, or simply Tango.

  Eet, Eets: Slang version of ET; both terms are used interchangeably.

  Fabber (Fabrication Machine): A ‘matter-printing’ device capable to manipulating matter at the molecular (or for the most advance systems, subatomic) level. Fabbers are the primary means of production among Starfarer civilizations. To produce anything beyond macro-scale items, a living, thinking being must direct the production process, apparently due to the Observer Effect. As a result, only the production of very simple devices can be automated. Industry is one of the largest sources of employment in the civilized galaxy.

  Fabber Operator (FO): Someone trained to control fabricators to produce sophisticated technological devices.

  Flick: Term for a multimedia entertainment production, available in multiple versions, from 2-D Passive (identical to a Pre-Contact movie or TV show) to Full VR Interactive (which allows users to assume the role of characters and play in the production’s scenario). Intermediate stages include VR Passive, Alternate Endings and Control Storyline Outcome, as well as ‘Adults Only’ interactive versions.

  FNG: Fucking New Guy. Term of endearment for new soldiers and spacers.

  Foxtrot-November: Unofficial acronym for ‘Fucking Noob.’ See also FNG.

  Full Goldie/Goldilocks Planet: A world with conditions nearly identical to Earth’s (95% or higher on all major categories, including oxygen/nitrogen mix, gravity, and average temperatures).

  Gack, Gacks: Slang; derogatory term for the Greater Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere and its citizens.

  Galactic Imperium: The largest known Starfarer polity, and the only one comprising several member species of roughly equal power. See also Gal-Imp, Gimp.

  Gal-Imp, Gimp: Slang terms for the Galactic Imperium and its citizens. Gimp is a full-on slur and its use discouraged in polite company.

  Greater Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere (GACS): A federation comprising China, India, Russia and an assortment of Asian countries and former Soviet Republics. Other than the United Stars, it’s the only human polity with a presence beyond the Solar System. Commonly referred to as the Pan-Asians or the Gacks.

  HAW: Heavy Anti-Armor Weapon. Large missile usually mounted on combat vehicles or deployed by company-level anti-armor teams.

  Haz-Con: Short for Hazardous Conditions. Any environment that isn’t suited to normal human life, requiring special equipment or medical treatments to endure without health risks.

  Hellcat: Common designation of Mobile Infantry Units (MIU), four-legged battlesuits equipped with heavy armor and force field, and several modular weapon pods.

  Hrauwah: Starfaring species and early US ally. Pseudo-canines with arboreal adaptations, the Hrauwah are social obligate carnivores vaguely resembling a cross between a dog and raccoon. Also see Puppies.

  Imp(s): Short for ‘implant,’ a catchall term for the numerous bionic systems most humans use for communications, first-aid, protection and entertainment. Imp services include: full biomedical monitors, virtual reality displays, mapping and location apps, targeting and sensory arrays, among many others.

  Infantry Weapon, Mark Three (IW-3): The standard issue personal arm of the Marine Corps, a dual-barreled grenade launcher and assault rifle, firing 4mm explosive plasma rounds and 15mm airmobile ordnance grenades.

  Iwo, Iwo-gun: Slang term for all Infantry Weapons.

  Kirosha: A continent-spanning kingdom on the planet Jasper-Five; the same term is also used to refer to the inhabitants of the kingdom and its capital city.

  Known Galaxy, The: Also referred to as Known Space; the region of the Milky Way Galaxy explored and colonized by all known Starfarer civilizations. It roughly corresponds to the Orion-Cygnus Arm of the galaxy, about 10,000 light years long and 3,500 light years wide. Almost every known warp valley leads to locations within that volume of space. Despite its name, the Known Galaxy, which comprises billions of stars, hasn’t been fully explored, let alone developed.

  Lampreys: Slang term for the Lhan Arkh species.

  LAV: Land Assault Vehicle, an armored personnel carrier/infantry fighting vehicle, sixty tons in weight, capable of carrying an infantry squad, armed with a 25mm laser or a 30mm grav cannon, as well as four HAW missile launchers. Its gravity drive allows it to fly and maneuver at speeds of up to 300 mph, but its main purpose is to fight at ground level. Crewed by a driver, gunner and loader.

  Lhan Arkh/Lhan Arkh Congress: Class One Starfarer species, commonly known as the Lampreys due to their funnel-shaped, tooth-ringed mouths. The Lhan Arkh Congress, a sort of commu
nist oligarchy, is one of the largest polities in the known galaxy.

  MBT-5 ‘Schwarzkopf’: Main battle tank of the Marine Corps, a hundred-ton, gravity drive vehicle armed with a 250mm grav gun mounted on a turret, three 15mm ALS-43 guns, an Air-Defense Gatling laser on its cupola, and two 20mm plasma projectors (one coaxial on the turret, the other bow-mounted).

  MEU: Marine Expeditionary Unit, consisting of an infantry battalion, and several organic attachments, including a tank platoon. The most common Corps deployment and administrative unit.

  MOS: Military Occupational Specialty, a numerical code indicating a soldier’s career field.

  MTV: Medium Tactical Vehicle. Primary supply and transport vehicle of the Corps. A 15-ton hover-truck that can keep up with LAVs over most kinds of terrain, with light force fields and armor. Often have a SAW or ALS-43 mounted on its roof.

  Nanoscale Assembly Device (NAD): Official designation of fabrication machines (see ‘Fabber’).

  Nasstah/Nasstah Union: Class One Starfarer species, bearing some morphological and cultural similarities to the Rishtah (a.k.a. Snakes). Their largest polity, the Nasstah Union is openly hostile towards America and humanity in general. Commonly known as the Vipers.

  Obie: Someone performing his Obligatory Service, especially during the first two years.

  Obligatory Service Term: A four-year military conscription system all US citizens must participate in. Eligibility starts at age sixteen; one must be enrolled before age twenty. Failure to comply is punishable by a four-year prison term and loss of citizenship status. In addition to basic military training, OST conscripts receive basic education equivalent to the last two years of high school and/or vocational training or college courses.

  Ovals: Slang term for the Vehelian species.

  POG, Pogue: Person Other than a Grunt, used contemptuously for soldiers with non-combat occupational specialties and less frequently to refer to civilians in general.