“She’s been injured …”
“Shut up!” He barked and began manipulation screens while his clerk brought up her profile on his own virtual display, “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“I survived the crash …”
“Now I have a lot of screen work to do!”
“Wait til you get to me!” Torian offered a friendly smile and got a seething stare from the busy administrator. The young freckle faced clerk scanned May with his Con.
“Go see the doc at the infirmary, you know where that is?” the sergeant sighed.
“Where all the pretty nurses are?” May replied.
“Across the compound. Go!”
May nodded quickly, then stopped before Torian, “Be seeing you Space Jockey.” She put one arm around him in a hug.
“Yeah…take it easy.” Torian smiled warmly and she strode out the room.
The sergeant shot him an annoyed look and Torian shrugged speaking amicably, “Got any Hawkeyes down here?”
Then the sergeant began to laugh, but not in a friendly way, “Space Jockey, huh. Shot down?”
“You could say that, sergeant.”
He brought up Torian’s profile, “Report to the engineers admin room, two down from the infirmary.”
“Engineers?”
The portly sergeant nodded with a wicked grin as he touched several screens producing the orders, “No flights to fleet for the next couple of days, so shoring trenches for you until then. Enjoy.”
--
Kat Martine showed Siiri to the officer’s washing area, where showers had just been erected. The black marine, almost the same height as the flaxen haired girl, was quiet, scowling most of the time. Her answers to Siiri’s questions were short and gruff and while the civilian girl showered in the open, embarrassed, the other girl just folded her arms waiting. Her old hand made clothes were taken away earlier at the Quarter Masters where she received combat clothing, including underwear, which she had seen May wearing before.
“Um, they only gave me a round necked shirt for underneath; do they have one of those sport tops that I saw other female soldiers wearing?”
Glancing at the blonde girl’s chest Kat retorted, “You don’t need a sports bra, now hurry up.” Siiri burned in humiliation as she quickly pulled on the under shirt and then buttoned up the fatigue tunic. Before she could finish tying her oversized boots the lieutenant began to walk way.
“Wait …” Siiri called trailing the other woman almost tripping. Kat carried the blonde girl’s gear, including a sleeping bag and a coat.
They walked across the dark compound, dimly illuminated only by lights on the various buildings, with gusts of wind sending streams of wetness in their faces. The officer’s quarters were above ground but not without trap doors to the metal tunnels below in case of attack.
“What is an officer?” Siiri finally built up the courage to ask.
As Kat opened the door to the female quarters she sighed, “They are the leadership cadre.” Rows of beds lined the metal room on either side occupied by several sleeping forms, “There are two divisions in the military, and the more educated, intelligent, and important people are the officers. The rest follow, and need to be given direction.”
“And that’s you?” Siiri thought about Torian and wondered where he stood.
“See?” She showed the blonde girl her single bar symbol on her fatigue tunic. “Bars, leaves, and eagles, listen to those people.” Siiri remembered the eagle on Colonel Trilling, the bars on Mark and the leaves on Neil’s uniform. All of it was swimming by and her head was spinning.
Then she remembered seeing a gold symbol on Torian’s flight suit arm, “What about two crooked lines and a star in the middle?”
Rolling her eyes, Kat snorted, “That’s a very low fleet rank. Listen, I beat out thousands of applicants for my spot at West Point, and I graduated fifth in my class, and I get to baby sit you. Now here’s your bed and your sleeping bag.” She threw the stuff down on the plain mattress, “We get up early, so get some sleep.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she set up her sleeping bag, stripped to her underwear, and crawled under the covers. Despite her exhaustion, her mind was racing and slumber was elusive. Siiri missed Torian terribly and longed for his easy smile and confidence. Wanting him close, remembering his smell and the warmth of his body next to hers the night before, she thought about reaching out and whispering to him, where ever he was, hopefully safe in the base camp. Then she worried about discovery. They had all sorts of instruments and technology in this strange place. Before sleep finally overcame, the last thing she saw was his handsome face.
Chapter 20: Engineers
The compound was a small collection of prefabricated metal buildings in two rows with underground bunkers and tunnels connecting front line trenches and gun emplacements. In one corner was an array of heavy guns and in another a half-completed garage for the engineers and armored hover vehicles, including some colossal tanks. Anti-aircraft guns guarded the Spacemasters, parked at the rear, and force shield towers were everywhere. Siiri had just finished a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs that looked no different and tasted the same as the real thing in a corner of the mess hall reserved for the officer cadre.
The sun brightly flashed over the trees shooting streaks of morning light over the compound as marines walked in an orderly fashion in groups carrying equipment or weapons readying for the days activities, including a trio of armored infantry fighting vehicles, evoking memories of her and Torian’s encounter with the downed female pilot in what seemed like eons ago. Siiri could easily distinguish the Dragon marines from the others by their height and tanned skin and different eyes. She craned her neck hoping for a glimpse of May but was disappointed. Of course, every tall brown haired handsome fit male could have been Torian, but there were so many smiling back at her.
“Stop gawking at the men, you’re acting like a school girl!” Kat grumbled checking her Con.
“I’m not! I’m looking for my friends.” The ash blonde haired girl, clean and pretty, shaded her face from the sun. Kat had commanded her put her hair up like the other marine women and she had tried to resist, but the black officer insisted in a menacing way.
“Where are they all going?” She watched a company of Dragons congregating near the armored vehicles.
The marine, with her hair in a tight bun glanced where Siiri was watching, “Patrolling the forest west of the city, a recon by force, it’s going to get heated pretty quick, so enjoy the outside while you can.” She pointed, “Come on. Let’s get to the command post.” Siiri followed reluctantly, hoping May was not part of that group.
--
The fresh fatigues issued the night before, now caked in dirt, still felt better as Torian grunted while hefting the heavy steel panel with a shorn headed gorilla of a man in the muddy, freshly excavated trench. They had to lift the hunk of metal so that it fit into the slots of another to link them together reinforcing the tunnel wall against a cave in. Back breaking work, after a night in a sleeping bag on the floor of the engineer garage and a quick early breakfast, Torian clenched his teeth lifting another panel. Artillery had broken through some of the shields on the first day leaving numerous craters where they were building a communication tunnel between the Dragon and Warlord trenches.
The large man with no neck helping Torian with the panel was Private First Class Clive Stewart, with a thick London, England accent. Shorter, thinner Private Nick Grimes fired off another wise crack causing some light chuckling as he and tall coffee skinned Andy Norwood hauled another heavy panel.
“So who did ya piss off to get this detail, fleet?” Nick groaned, staggering slightly under the weight of another panel.
“Dunno, lost count.” Torian squeezed against the tunnel wall as a grav sled loaded with dirt passed them by pushed by another engineer in dirty fatigues, while another sled, empty, passed over the other near the top of the tunnel. In the front an excavator floating half a meter
above the ground churned through the dirt spraying muddy contents behind onto a another sled. The operator, a surprisingly petite dark haired woman named Callie, barked at the other engineers over the hum of the engine, lying prone on top of the machine. Loose dirt that fell by the side was shoveled onto the sled behind the excavator.
The shoulder flashes of the engineers depicted a four leaf clover for the 7th Combat Engineer Battalion, called the Lucky Ones, because Lucky 7`s was already taken by an infantry battalion. When he had arrived at night, most had been sleeping so introductions were skipped. In the morning his black rank symbol of a Specialist First Class on the chest of his green, brown, and black camouflaged fatigues distinguished him right away and invited salvos of ridicule from the hardened veterans. Torian, however, was used to being the new guy and shot back with the ripostes and parries of a seasoned pro. His easygoing nature and lack of complaints helped him gain acceptance quickly. No one was in the mood for deep conversation early in the morning being the first at breakfast, but as the morning wore on everyone opened up. And being a Hawkeye crew member, the eyes and ears of the fleet, as opposed to a cocky Starhawk pilot, made him a savant of fleet knowledge for the unending questions from the curious sappers.
“So, you crash land on this haunted piece of real estate?” Nick Grimes and Andy Norwood rolled out a plasteel mat on the ground while Torian and Clive hefted a ceiling cross beam and locked it into the panels on either side of the tunnel.
“Yeah.” he tried to be vague, “Lost thrusters over the city.”
“Saw a Spacemaster full of Dragons go down.” Andy shook his head, scrapping some dirt away from the base of a panel with a shovel, “Did your pilot make it?”
Torian glanced away, “No.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Clive muttered as they reached for another panel.
“I didn’t know him well anyway.” A couple of sappers squeezed past with an empty grav sled, bringing it to Callie on the excavator a few meters ahead.
Clive leaned a little closer to Torian, but still in ear shot of the others, “I bet some of those fleet girls are pretty hot!” He grinned and Torian smirked back.
“Better than here, I mean Callie’s nice, but taken. Ground elements have a serious shortage of skirts.” Nick added. The engineer battalions were notorious for lack of females, while infantry consisted of about ten percent, logistics thirty, and fleet almost half.
“And no civilians around either, no pretty colony honeys to chase.” Andy joined in, “This whole place gives me the willies!”
Nick replied in a London accent, “It’s cursed; I mean look at fleet, here, stuck with us because there are no flights out for days!”
They were interrupted by cursing as Callie crawled off the excavator and stood whipping out her Con, “Broke down again!” She huffed angrily as a wisp of black smoke drifted from the machine now resting on the ground.
Andy leaned on his shovel, “You’re just too rough.”
“Oh you shut up.” Then she glanced at Torian, “What are you staring at?”
“You remind me of my mother.” That got a chorus of guffaws as Callie grabbed a hunk of dirt and flung it at the wiry flight specialist.
“Didn’t take you boys long to corrupt poor fleet here!” She strode passed the group and gave Torian a glare, “I’m going up top for parts, but don’t stop working on my account!” There was some lingering quiet chuckling as the sappers linked in another panel and cleared away some soil.
They worked in silence for a few moments before Nick broke in, “So did you hear? They found a survivor.”
Clive sighed, “A survivor of what?”
“The city here. A live native. And they say she’s a looker, speaking of colony honeys.”
Turning and glancing at the short, thin blonde haired sapper, Torian listened attentively as Nick went on, “I heard a real scatter blonde, too …”
“No she’s not …” Then Torian caught himself, “You don’t know that.”
“A blonde is she?” The large muscular engineer with the physique shaped like a gorilla chuckled, “I could use a few more of those around here.” Which brought Torian back to thinking about Siiri. He wasn’t supposed to fall for someone again until he got back home, no, not after Leigh. Dammit! To make matters worse, he’d only known her a few days, how could he have let this happen? And what was he feeling… jealously? Just because she was surrounded by a couple thousand buff muscular marines?
--
Neil pointed to the door and Kat saluted as she closed it behind her. Siiri sat on a chair in front of the intelligence officer’s table folding her arms with an obstinate expression, having just returned from the infirmary and receiving a complete physical.
Warmly smiling, Neil sat back, “Oh don’t give me that look. We have a lot of work to do today, so let’s start out right. Want some coffee? Juice?”
“No thanks. I don’t see why I had to strip completely while that woman scanned me. It was cold in that room.”
“The doc doesn’t trust Con readings, and congratulations, you’re in excellent health and physical shape, save for a little weight loss, but better than most marines here.”
The auricomous haired girl replied with cold silence as Neil moved around his table and leaned back in front holding his Con. He moved a virtual screen with his finger, enlarging it so that it encompassed the floor to the ceiling behind, displaying a huge side view of Siiri’s head.
“Ugh …” She glanced away, “That’s not doing my self esteem any good.”
“Why, you’re a very beautiful woman.”
“Don’t sweet talk me.”
The very handsome major smiled, then moved his finger around on the Con virtual controls, “How about this?” In the image he cut away Siiri’s head to reveal her brain, a live feed from the Con’s scan, so she was seeing her real insides.
“I feel my breakfast coming up.”
“I’m not trying to make you sick, but I want to show you something.” He zeroed in on a section of her brain, “This is the Pineal gland. In most humans, it’s this size …” He super imposed another brain over hers with a small dot where the gland was located, “Now, this is the brain of a deceased member of the ‘Colonial Environmental Safety Society’, and yes, we know they existed and settled here.” The gland was twice the size of a normal one.
“Deceased?”
“Yes, some nasty business. We cornered them about 50 earth years ago, but they opted for mass suicide.” She sure did not like the sound of that, but it also explained Jarlan’s paranoia of off-worlders.
He put the direct scan of Siiri’s brain in the large virtual display, walked across the room, “Now, see yours.” He pointed, and Siiri swallowed. It was four or five times as large as the deceased brain, and emitting a slight yellow glow and pulsating. She wanted to throw up.
“Are you going to dissect me, too?”
Chuckling, “No, but you are very … distinct.” He pulled his chair from behind the table and set it down in front of the girl, turning it around so that when he sat his arms rested over the back, facing Siiri, “How many more of you are here?” His deep blue eyes, intricately decorated with lines and symbols upon close inspection, stared hard into hers.
Well, Torian wanted all the villagers rescued anyway, so she did not mind giving away that bit of information, though she wished he was here because she didn’t trust the striking man with the coy smile, “A whole village, just over a thousand people.” She was not going to tell him about the others in the alien city of Reega.
The major let out a low whistle, “A thousand? Like you?”
“Not all like me, a few maybe, I was cast out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Where are the villagers?”
“Hidden away, but on the north side of the city in the valley.”
He frowned, “Near rebel lines.” She nodded slowly and he thought aloud, “That could be a problem.”
Siiri was becoming more uncomfortable the
way her stared at her, gathering his thoughts, “So, tell me … what you can do?”
Swallowing, his eyes had her, but she stood her ground, “What do you think I can do?”
“Well, whatever it is, you haven’t been using it.” He stood up and reached for another small black device from his table, “I’ll level with you, we can detect paranormal activity. It sets off certain brain wave patterns.”
“Apparently I’m not fully developed.”
“Who told you that?”
“Someone who was.”
“I see.” He walked around back behind desk, “Listen, Siiri, I don’t know what your friends, the Hawkeye crewman and the Dragon, told you about the state of things …”
“You’re losing the war.”
“Not that there’s danger to earth, but yes, the rebels are breaking away.” Then he added, “You’re very insightful, and educated. Some colonies … when they lose contact, it’s like they revert to the Stone Age.”
“We had school, holos, I graduated with honors. Though we were taught with a bit of a slant, our teacher was Jarlan and he was member of that society. He’s the one you want.”
“And he’s fully developed?”
She nodded, “And he killed everyone in the city with his powers.” Siiri did not know why she threw that in, maybe as a warning.
“Really?” Neil had to think for a minute, then he continued, “The shield that surrounds the city, similar patterns that come from your brain, but not exact. His?”
“I think so.”
“We know what the shield is, and all that it does, we haven’t been able to take it down.”
Siiri glanced away; she was not going to tell him without Torian, shaking her head, “Jarlan knows.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
--
The mud didn’t stick to their tunics, but it caked in the folds and smeared everywhere, so one by one the sappers lined up while Callie hosed them, and thanks to Torian, all called her ‘mom’, so he got an extra blast on his water proof fatigues. Wearing their caps and slinging their rifles the engineer section with Torian strode back to the compound for lunch at the mess hall. Half completed with tenting for a roof, the steel walled mess building had two entrances, one for enlisted and the other for officers. When the sappers took their place in the long enlisted line, they heard the sounds of explosions in the distance and looking to the sky saw dozens of contrails from fighter sorties.
The Battle for the Ringed Planet Page 22
