Recruit

by James David Victor

  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 are 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.”

  Chapter 10

  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 are 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 alone stood 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. But believe me when I say we are 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 again, Squad Leader,” Crippin said. “We will set up a firing line here and hold them off until the Scorpio’s battalion arrives.”

  “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. The ground 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.”

  The sounds of fear rippled through the squad. Then the first recruit ran.

  It was a young woman, short hair and long eyelashes. She ran back in the direction of the bunkhouse. Hacker was on his feet.

  “Leave her,” Crippin said. “I am going to need you here, Sergeant, more than I’ll need her.” Crippin crawled to the front of the line. “Listen up, squad. If you run, you will die. If we run, we will get picked off one by one. If we stay together, we have a chance. Pick your targets. Hold your fire. Wait for my command. We are going to kill a whole bunch of Chitin scum. They are coming fast. They will be here soon. They don’t know what we’ve got waiting for them. We are going to shred them all. You get me?”

  Another recruit began to scurry away. It was Torent’s ugly ally. Torent was on him in a flash. He grabbed him and dragged him down in between him and Jack. The smell of urine was apparent. Jack watched the Chitin advance and made a promise not to piss himself.

  “Get ready, Marines,” Crippin shouted. “Here they come. Open fire.”

  The crackle of rifle fire rippled across the summit of the hill. Jack saw through his sights that the rounds were hitting the Chitins as they rushed forward. They came on in a tightly packed bunch and it was impossible not to record hits. But the damage inflicted was low. Jack picked his target and aimed for the round mouthpiece of the Chitin soldiers. He saw the teeth splinter and get shot out of the mouths of all his targets, but still, they came on. Jack targeted the smooth head and fired several rounds into another Chitin soldier. The bullets smashed into the head, throwing up spurts of thin orange liquid.

  “Keep firing,” Crippin shouted.

  Jack saw the front of the advancing mass of soldiers pause. A strange hum began and then Jack saw the pulsing plasma growing on the tips of the weapons the Chitin soldiers held. The hum grew to a high-pitched whine, then the plasma spears shot forward.

  Jack was mesmerized by the lights that flickered toward him. The orange and white threads of plasma arced upwards before flicking forward. The plasma spears lashed at the summit of the hill. The rock in front of Jack exploded in a burst of red-hot dust. The recruit next to Jack was lacerated and split in two from his left shoulder to hip. The blood that spilled out boiled. The smell of charred flesh filled Jack’s nostrils.

  A recruit along the line shrieked in terror. He dropped his rifle as he stood and turned to run. He was caught by the tip of a plasma spear. The tip lost its focus and frayed into a number of finer, dimmer plasma threads. The frayed ends scraped across the screaming recruit. The threads ripped away clothes and skin. Then the recruit fell forward toward the plasma spear and was sliced in two.

  “Keep firing,” Crippin shouted.

  Jack fired a number of shots into the head of his target. The Chitin thrashed about and fell and then scurried away under the tentacles of another who came forward to take its place. Jack fired another short burst, smashing into the smooth head and toothed mouth of this new front-line Chitin.

  Then the plasma spears leaped forward again.

  The light on the opposite horizon grabbed Jack’s attention. He saw fire leaping into the sky.

  “Alpha Training Base,” Crippin said. “We’re surrounded.”

  “We need to get mobile, sir,” Jack said to Crippin. “If we get surrounded, we are done for.”

  “But we’ve got the high ground,” Torent said.

  “All that means is we’ll all die on a hill,” Jack said.

  “Jack’s right. We need to move. We have to avoid getting surrounded, hill or no hill. But we have no way of knowing where they are.”

  “Air reconnaissance,” Jack said. “We can spot them from the air.”

  “We don’t have air power, Forge. Scorpio is still too far out.”

  “Not the Scorpio, sir.” Jack pointed toward the workshop down the hill. “If I can get that drone airborne...”

  “Nice idea, Forge, but there are no power cells,”

  Jack held his rifle side on. “Here, I can use the power cell in this rifle.”

  Sergeant Hacker looked at Jack and then at Crippin. They both shrugged.

  “What harm can it do to try? Go, Forge, and take Torent with you.” Crippin fired off a quick burst. “And if you can drop any ordinance on that Chitin scum, that would be a plus. Go. Now.”

  Jack scurried back from the summit as another spread of plasma spears scorched the summit.

  Jack ran and dismantled his rifle as he went.

  “What are you doing with that rifle, Forge?” Torent called as they ran.

  “The Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle is powered by a micro fusion reactor. It should have enough power to get that old reconnaissance drone off the ground.” Jack threw the parts of the rifle away and found the power cell.

  Jack and Torent ran into the workshop. Torent moved around the building, rifle raised, as he searched the area.

  “Clear,” he shouted.

  Jack rushed to the front of the old drone and searched out the access panel for the power cell.

  “It doesn’t fit.”

  “Wedge it in, Jack. We got to get them off that hill.”

  “I can’t just wedge it in. I need to fix it in somehow.” Jack picked his way through the debris of the workshop. He found an old solder iron. “This could work. But I need some soft metal to fuse the cell to the craft.”

  “So find some,” Torent said. He walked quickly to the door and looked through it down his gun sights. “Get it working, Jack.”

  “I’ve already been through every piece of junk in this place. There’s nothing I can use.”

  Torent walked up to Jack and grabbed him by the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be the smart one, right? Don’t suppose Chitins care whose brains they melt but I’d rather they didn’t melt mine, so use your brains and fix the damn power cell in there and I’ll keep watch.”

  “Watch,” Jack said, his voice failing.

  “Yes, I’ll keep watch.” Torent scanned the view outside the workshop.

  Jack picked out his small package from his pocket and unwrapped his family silver watch. “My watch.”

  “Whatever you are going to do, do it fast. Chitins at twelve o’clock.”

  Jack snapped the back off. He popped out the mechanism, with its creamy face and fine hands. The solder iron was hot in a second. Jack held the power cell in place and carefully melted the silver case of his family watch.

  The sound of Torent’s rifle fire startled Jack. The Chits were close. Jack activated the power supply and the craft lurched upwards.

  “They’re coming,” Torent said. “Send that thing.”

  “I need a way to pilot it,” Jack said. It was a remote reconnaissance drone and needed some human input. A spare user headset was found in one of the broken pieces of equipment. It took a moment to calibrate the headset to the drone.

  “This should do it,” Jack said.

  “So do it.” Torent laid down a sustained fire.

  “It’s dangerous. I haven’t got a neural processor. I need to buffer the information. I might get overloaded.”

  “You’ll be dead for sure if you don’t try something.” Torent closed the door and stepped back into the workshop, taking cover behind a workbench.

  Jack put the headset on.

  A mass of information flooded Jack’s mind. There was reconnaissance information and the drone had at one point been linked to the training moon’s many surveillance systems. All the information that had ever been collected on the moon flooded into Jack’s mind.

  It was an impossible mix of information. Jack watched recruits arriving on transport vessels, coming in as r
aw hayseeds and leaving as newly qualified Marines. The training time had been longer in the past. Recruits were coming in smaller numbers and being shipped out after shorter and shorter training programs.

  Jack saw his brother. He had trained here too. And there was Crippin, shouting into his face.

  Jack was suddenly present in Crippin’s office. A fleet captain was visiting. Crippin was being told that the Chitins were powerful. Humans were being pushed back. Destroyers were being lost at an unsustainable rate. A carrier had been destroyed. The war was being lost.

  Jack saw himself arrive at the moon training base. He looked sad. He looked alone.

  Then Jack saw his watch through the bunkhouse surveillance. It was being taken from the hiding place in his bunk and was being placed in Torent’s bunk. The data showed Jack who had moved the watch: it was Bill Harts. Bill had hidden his watch in Torent’s bunk. Jack saw the dispute between Torent and himself over the watch and there was Bill Harts, sitting back on his bunk and enjoying the show.

  “Jack!” Torent shouted. “Jack. Wake up or I’ll put a round through your messed-up brain.”

  “I have control,” Jack said. He wiped away the trickle of blood that dribbled out of his nose.

  The drone leapt up and smashed through the roof. The targeting display picked out the advancing Chitins. Jack accessed fire control. The drone was minimally armed but it should be enough to destroy the few Chits outside. The drone’s cannons purred and the Chitin’s bodies burst as the incendiary rounds burned them from the inside out.

  Then Jack was flying, skimming the craft centimeters above the rocky surface. He was at the hill in a moment. Jack saw the line of recruits still firing down the other side. Jack skirted around the hill and came up on a position flanking the line of Chitin soldiers advancing on the hill.

  The canons purred again and scorched the front line of the Chitins.

  The plasma whips flashed toward the drone. Without a neural processor, Jack could not handle all the information. He was slow. A plasma lance sliced through the port side of the drone. Jack pulled away, firing a hail of bullets from the small store of kinetic rounds. They tore through the Chitins as he retreated.