by P. A. Piatt
“Lieutenant Fortis, my name is Dexter Beck. I’m the GRC Pada-Pada Project Manager.” He nodded to the larger man. “This is Paden Nesbitt. He’s in charge of security operations here.”
Neither man moved to shake hands, so Fortis stood still, uncertain how to proceed.
“Where is Lieutenant Baker? I thought he was leading this deployment.”
“Unfortunately, Lieutenant Baker suffered a fatal injury during the drop.”
There was no visible reaction from either GRC officer at this news.
“That’s a shame, Lieutenant,” Beck said, and Nesbitt nodded his agreement. “It’s a dangerous business you’re in. Hardly worth the risk, coming here to Pada-Pada. Especially since you’re too late for the testing.”
“Too late? Our schedule shows the first trials don’t begin for two days.”
“That’s the old schedule. I sent an update to Captain Reese last week. We heard nothing back, and when you didn’t show up last week, we went ahead with the testing.” Beck shrugged and glanced over at Nesbitt. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Wasted trip, I guess.”
As Beck spoke, Fortis got the sense there was more to the story than a simple bureaucratic foul-up. Beck’s tone was smug, and the look he exchanged with Nesbitt was though they were sharing a private joke. He frowned and shook his head.
“That’s too bad. I was really hoping to see your guys in action. When I found out Battalion tasked Foxtrot Company with this mission, I watched a series of VR lectures—”
“Strachan.” Beck spat the name out like a curse and his face darkened.
“Well, yes, Doctor Strachan was one of them, but there were others.”
Beck scoffed. “Science deniers, every one of them.” He stood and took several steps toward the door. “Lieutenant, I appreciate you stopping by, but like I said, our testing is complete, and we’re very busy collating the data.”
“Do you think we should establish a satellite link between our headquarters?” Fortis asked. “It might be a good idea to be able to talk back and forth.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, but that won’t be necessary. We have a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you Space Marines will be busy doing whatever it is you do. I don’t see us having time to chat on a comm circuit. I think it best if we remain separate.”
“Fair enough. We don’t want to be in your way.” Fortis turned toward the door and stopped. “Can I ask a small favor?”
Beck spread his hands. “What can we do for you, Lieutenant?”
Fortis sighed. “It’s Lieutenant Baker’s body. Foxtrot Actual instructed me to bring him back with us when we withdraw, but that’s not for almost two weeks. I’m hoping the mining colony might have some cold storage we could use. Otherwise, well…”
Nesbitt spoke for the first time. “That’s not possible. We don’t permit outsiders into the mining colony.”
“We wouldn’t have to go inside,” Fortis protested. “If they’re willing to store his body, we could meet the miners outside—”
“It’s not possible, Lieutenant. We do not allow access to non-employees, and that includes contact inside or outside the colony.”
Fortis looked at Beck. “Is that final?”
“Nesbitt’s in charge of security; what he says goes.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Fortis found Third Platoon gathered under an open-sided tent that appeared to be a mess hall. The Space Marines were spread out across several tables, while several GRC personnel stood together off to one side. When he got closer to the group, Fortis realized the men had grouped themselves by fire team and their “disorganization” disguised a careful defensive plan.
“What’s the word, LT?” Ystremski said.
Fortis slumped down next to the corporal. “We’re late. They did their testing last week.”
“Last week? What the fuck?”
“I don’t know. The guy in charge, Beck, told me they sent the schedule change to Foxtrot Company. I guess the captain missed it.”
“What do we do now?”
“Get the men on their feet, and let’s get back to the drop zone. I’ll report to Captain Reese, but we’re stuck here until the Fleet returns.”
Third Platoon thanked their hosts and formed up for the patrol back to the drop zone. The GRC troops stared blankly as the Space Marines grab-assed their way into formation before stepping off. As soon as the point man started toward the tree line, the banter stopped. The line of men snaked off to the south to avoid leaving the GRC camp the same way they had arrived.
“Those colonists are strange, LT,” Ystremski said over the private channel.
“They’re not colonists, they’re test tubes.”
“No shit? I thought they were just weirdos. Too much time underground, maybe.”
“What’s weird is that I only saw two humans the entire time we were there. The project manager Beck and the head of security, this huge guy named Nesbitt. Everyone else was a test tube.”
Fortis switched to the satellite link with Command.
“Command, this is Third Platoon. We met with the GRC, and we just stepped off to return to the drop zone.”
“This is Command, roger that. Be advised, more bugs have approached from the northeast. Recommend the patrol avoid that quadrant.”
“This is Third Platoon, wilco. We have departed to the south and will approach from that vector.”
“This is Command; roger, out.”
* * *
The jungle south of the GRC base camp wasn’t as dense as the jungle to the north, and the patrol made good time. The ground was dry and firm, and Fortis appreciated the break from the undergrowth grabbing at his legs as he struggled with the heavy Pada-Pada gravity. After two hours of rapid progress, the point man halted the column and called Corporal Ystremski forward. Fortis followed the corporal and gaped at what lay before them.
A wide crevasse blocked their path. It looked like giant hands had ripped the ground apart in a long, ragged tear. The fissure was ten meters across and gouts of steam billowed from the dark depths.
“It’s directly in our line of march, Corporal.” The point man gestured to the south. “We can follow it south and stay on dry ground, but who knows for how far? It might end just beyond those trees, or it might go on for fifty klicks.”
Ystremski nodded. “And if we turn north, it’s back into the bad bush, and we’d be retracing our route.” He looked at Fortis. “What do you think, LT?”
“The tactics manual says we’re not supposed to return to base the same way we left. I guess this crack hasn’t read the manual.” Fortis thought for a second as he examined the crevasse. There was no way they could risk crossing it.
“Let’s call a halt for thirty minutes. Send a squad to follow the crack to the south for two clicks. If they don’t find a way across by then, bring them back and we’ll strike north. We know it ends somewhere up there.”
Ystremski nodded. “Aye, aye, sir.” He keyed up the patrol tactical circuit. “Second Squad, front and center. First and Third, move up and form a perimeter. Stay alert, ladies, this is still bug country.”
Second Squad assembled around Ystremski and he gave them their orders. “Shields, take charge. Reconnoiter this crack two klicks south and see if there’s a way across. Don’t go any further than two klicks. Got it?” Shields nodded. “If you get in the shit, if you run into a bunch of bugs, do your best to retreat, and we’ll be along as fast as we can.”
“Roger that, Gun—er, Corporal. Second Squad, follow me, single file in fire team order.”
The squad followed Shields, and, within seconds, Fortis lost sight of them in the trees.
“LT, why don’t you have a seat and wait for Shields to come back?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I need to check on the rest of the platoon, make sure they’re spread out and ready.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all, sir. Though you might want to rest for a
minute. If Shields comes back without finding a way around this thing, we’ll be back in the thick stuff the rest of the way home.”
Fortis nodded. “I’m good.”
He followed Ystremski and noted how the corporal shifted the Marines into better positions as needed.
“The bugs aren’t great tacticians,” Ystremski explained. “I mean, they’re bugs. We could line up shoulder to shoulder and mow them down, but the men learn nothing from that. Someday I hope we’ll fight something besides bugs.”
The pair finished their inspection and returned to their post in time to meet Lance Corporal Shields.
“Bad news,” Shields reported. “The crack gets wider to the south. Where we turned around it’s at least forty meters wide. No way around that way.”
“North it is,” replied Ystremski. “You guys need a blow?”
Shields shook his head. “We’re good to go. We should get moving; I don’t want to be humping through the jungle in the dark.”
The patrol resumed and paralleled the crevasse north until it dwindled and disappeared in the thick undergrowth. The jungle closed in on them again, and they fought for every meter of progress. Fortis’ legs burned from the exertion, and his breathing was labored, but his pride refused to ask Ystremski to slow the pace. Instead, he focused on the next step, the next log to step over, the next vine to duck under.
“Contact left!”
A long burst of automatic fire followed by a volley of individual shots tore through the jungle somewhere ahead of Fortis. As he dropped to the ground, three sharp explosions shook the ground beneath him.
Excited voices jammed the tactical circuit as the Space Marines stepped on each other’s transmissions.
“Frag—”
“Watch the—”
“Covering fire—”
“The bugs are—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Ystremski’s voice boomed over the circuit, as he utilized the command override on the tactical circuit. The gunfire died down immediately.
“Point, what’s your status?” Ystremski demanded.
“This is Fire Team One. The point man is down. Fire Team One is covering. Fire Team Two is maneuvering to his position. We need a medic.”
Kramer jumped up from where he’d taken cover and charged forward.
“This is Kramer, on my way.”
Another burst of automatic fire and two more explosions echoed through the jungle.
“Fire Team Three, report!”
“This is Fire Team Three. We have a lot of movement through the brush, but the bugs have fallen back out of sight.”
“This is Ystremski. No shooting unless you have visual contact. Third Squad, what’s your status?”
“This is Third Squad, no contact.”
“Okay. Third Squad move forward and double up with First Squad. Second Squad, what’s your status?”
“This is Second Squad, all clear.”
“Second Squad, double up the rear.”
“Roger that.”
Fortis watched as Space Marines moved past him to their assigned positions. A hand thumped him on the shoulder as one of the Marines dropped next to him.
“You’re the last man, sir. You’ve got rear security.”
The Marine jumped back to his feet and disappeared into the jungle in front of Fortis.
Last man?
Fortis felt very alone and a sudden panic gripped him. His imagination went into overdrive and he imagined a horde up bugs creeping up on him from behind.
“LT, this is Ystremski. Are you coming forward?”
The corporal’s voice snapped him out of his waking nightmare.
“This if Fortis, affirmative. On my way.”
He paused at the first Marines he encountered and told them they were rear security, then followed the trail of broken vegetation and prone Space Marines until he found Corporal Ystremski and Doc Kramer squatting next to the blood-covered body of the Space Marine who had been walking point. A large bug was crushed on the ground next to him. Fortis shuddered at the black poison that still dripped from the wicked stinger. Kramer looked up at him and shook his head.
“It’s Private Watters, sir. Got him up under the chin. He must have dived on top of the fucker when the shooting started. I doubt he knew what happened.”
Ystremski keyed his mic. “Is anyone else hurt?”
An anonymous voice came over the air. “Just my feelings, daddy.”
“Yuck it up, fuckers. We’ve got a dead Space Marine here.” The silence that followed was as heavy as the Pada-Pada gravity. Ystremski turned to a Marine crouched next to him. “Davis, cut some poles and build a litter. We’re taking Watters with us. Hurry up.”
Ten minutes later, the Marines had Watters’ body secured for travel and the patrol formed up. The new point man led the patrol due west for two kilometers until he signaled a halt and called Fortis and Ystremski forward.
There was a gaping hole in the jungle floor. Inexplicably, there was an enormous bomb crater in the middle of the jungle. Shards of glass sparkled on the ground in and around the crater, and there was no vegetation.
“What the hell happened here?”
“Somebody dropped a nuke.” Ystremski nudged the edge of the crater with his boot and silvery splinters tumbled into the hole. “The question is, why here?”
Fortis walked around the rim until he came to a tall tower leaning drunkenly away from the blast area. A faded 4 was barely visible on the side through some desultory vines.
“Hey, Corporal, what do you think this is?”
“Beats me, LT. Somebody nuked the jungle. None of this makes sense.”
“Take some pictures. Video, too.” Fortis looked at the clear sky above the crater. “I’ll raise Command and make a report.” He switched to the satellite circuit.
“Command, this is Third Platoon, can you read me?”
“This is Command, I read you loud and clear. What’s your status?”
Fortis consulted his navigation aid. “We’re approximately three klicks south of your position. We ran into some bugs and lost a man, Private Watters. We’ve also discovered what looks like a nuke crater in the middle of the jungle. I’ve marked the spot and Corporal Ystremski is collecting photos and video. We will move out in ten minutes. What’s your status, Command?”
“A few bugs came in from the northeast. Otherwise, nothing to report. Sorry to hear about Watters.”
Fortis signed off. Ystremski reported he had video and pictures of the entire crater and the tower, so the patrol continued toward base.
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
Two hours later, the patrol stood on the edge of the clearing the Space Marines had carved out of the jungle. The sensors had alerted First Platoon of their approach, and a lone Marine was picking his way carefully through the minefield. Every few meters, he planted a colored flag to mark a safe path.
“Tell your guys to stay right in line with the flags,” he told Ystremski. “We over-seeded the minefield yesterday. Nothing is getting through there without hitting something.”
The patrol filed into camp and Fortis felt a sense of release wash over him. He’d made dozens of patrols during training at the Advanced Infantry Officer course, including several overnight ambush patrols and a weeklong battle problem, but none of it had prepared him for the stress and strain of a real patrol. Although their journey to and from the GRC camp was only fourteen klicks, his body ached from the effort. His neck and shoulder muscles throbbed and he realized he’d been walking with his shoulders bunched up and his head down. He resisted the urge to slump to the ground as he watched the patrol form up by squads.
Ystremski ordered the squad leaders to do a weapons check and get their squads fed and watered. Kramer walked through the ranks and checked for any injuries or illnesses. When that was complete, Ystremski dismissed them.
Gunny Hawkins and Warrant Pell met Fortis and Ystremski at the command mech.
“G
ood trip, LT?”
“Could have been better. Lost a man, but we accomplished our mission and contacted the GRC. Unfriendly bunch. Not very helpful.”
Hawkins gestured to the command mech. “Why don’t we take this inside where it’s cooler, sir?”
Puzzled by Hawkins’ invitation, Fortis entered the mech and sat down in the cool darkness. He doffed his helmet, and his neck exploded with goose pimples as the air conditioning washed over him. Ystremski offered him a cold hydration pack, which he accepted with a nod.
“You look a little rough, LT. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good to go, Gunny. That goddamn gravity is murder, though.”
Hawkins chuckled. “Yes, sir, but once you boost those rookie numbers and get a couple levels of strength enhancement, you’ll be all right.”
Fortis sat back and took several long pulls from the hydration pack. “Okay, Gunny. You want to go first, or us? And why are we in here?”
“We’re in here for privacy, sir. You never know who’s listening. Anyway, you had more fun, so why don’t you start it off?”
“Corporal, you led the patrol. Tell him how it went.”
“Yes, sir. First off, Gunny, I saw two more cameras when we moved out. The first one was maybe twenty meters out and the second was another twenty further on. I marked both on my nav computer.”
“Cameras? What cameras?” Fortis gave the corporal a puzzled look.
Gunny Hawkins chimed in. “Sir, when Corporal Ystremski took Third Platoon out yesterday, he saw what he thought was a camera up in the trees pointed at the camp.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That was my decision, LT. It was getting late, the corporal wasn’t sure, so I decided not to say anything until we knew for certain. Word gets out about something like that and the entire camp will watch the trees and talk about it. If someone is watching the camp, it might be better that they don’t know we’re aware of them. And if they’re watching they might try to listen, too. That’s why we’re in here.”
