Dropship One

by L. D. P. Samways

  I hadn’t been an active Marine for more than ten minutes, and I’d already witnessed a fallen comrade breathe his last breath. If I didn’t get my act together soon and find my fellow Marines, then I too would be breathing my last breath. A sudden panic rose within my core, slowly creeping up my throat and seeping out of my mouth like air escaping a punctured hole in a tyre.

  My lungs felt deflated, like they were collapsing. My chest ached. I felt unsteady on my feet. At any moment, it felt like I could just topple over and hit the ground. The weight of the world was crushing my shoulders, my neck was stiff and sweat was dripping down my face, drenching the interior of my space helmet, fogging up the glass and making it hard for me to see.

  All I could hear was the constant rasping of my lungs as air tried to find its way inside them. But the more I tried to breathe, the less I was able to. Whatever this was, it had gripped me. It was wrapping its insidious grip around my waist, slowly squeezing the life out of me. I knew that there was no escaping this. I knew that whatever this was, was the end. I tried to scramble for my radio, hitting the PDA device on my arm, searching for the bandwidth button to open up a route of communications with whoever else was on the planet with me. I’d been deserted. I could hear gunfire in the distance, but I was too disorientated to be able to pinpoint the location of the gunfire. If I’d decided to try and trudge on in my state, God knows what would happen to me. My mind was gone. It was foggy and my ears felt like cotton. I could hear the sounds around me, but they sounded like they were a million miles away. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I tried to speak into my microphone. But nothing came out. Just a slight murmur accompanied by dried lips, cracked with dehydration.

  “I… need… help…,” I said, or rather, stammered. I didn’t get a reply. Only static.

  But the static seemed far away. Everything seemed far away. I felt like I was in a tunnel, and the light at the end of it was slowly drawing itself further and further away, morphing into a black dot and then disappearing into the darkness. I felt my knees buckling. I attempted to fight it, but it overpowered me, and I slowly but surely found myself lying face down in the dirt.

  I could see the sand pressing against my helmet, the visor stopping any of it from entering my suit. For some reason, I was transfixed by the minuscule grains that made up the composition of the sand I was lying face down in. I stared at each grain and wondered profoundly if that’s what I was - a grain - a minuscule object, lost within the mixture of many other grains.

  That’s what it felt like. The other grains of sand were the many other soldiers that had landed with me on the troop carrier. But like sand, they’d fallen through the cracks of my fingers, and escaped into the atmosphere. I had no idea where any of the other Marines were. For all I knew they could have all been dead. Maybe they were. Maybe they were facedown in the dirt just like me.

  My vision was slowly getting worse. The grains of sand were going out of focus. My eyelids felt heavy, and my mouth felt dry. I tried one last time to signal someone on my radio. I fumbled in the sand, slowly dragging my arm towards me, so I could get a better look at the LED screen on my wrist unit. But before I could summon the will to operate the PDA, I felt something grab me. Hands - strong hands - grabbing at my shoulders and turning me around.

  I was no longer facedown in the dirt. I was now lying on my back, staring up at the blue sky above. At first, all I could see was a shadow, a silhouette of a man. It was a silhouette that I recognised. It was human in stature. It was big and hulking. Tall and impressive. It could only be a fellow Marine.

  “Hey there soldier, saw you sleeping on the job and thought that maybe you’d need a hand,” the silhouette said, slowly but surely turning into a fully fledged man.

  I recognised the man. He’d been my section leader back at boot camp. He was known as Grimes. And Grimes was a hard ass. He’d always ring us out for being sluggish or unprofessional. I remember hating the man back at boot camp. As far as I was concerned, he was nothing but a grump. But now, right at that moment, all I had was love for the man. I was just happy to see a familiar face.

  “Sorry Sir, I got a bit sleepy,” I said, standing up and trying to regain my composure. I still felt wobbly on my feet, the world was still unnaturally tilted on its axis, at least to me it was.

  “You okay there, soldier? You look a little green around the gills, I wouldn’t want you to puke in your spacesuit. That shit is hard to get rid of, the smell hangs around for ages. So it would be wise to tell me the truth. You feeling all right?” My section leader asked, planting a firm yet gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezing.

  I think he could tell that I was a little loopy. But being a Marine was all about front. You either had the front, or you were the front. In other words, you either acted tough or were tough. And I’d like to think that I was tough. Never been good at acting. But then again this was all an act. Everybody acted as if they weren’t scared. As if going to war was enjoyable. Like they looked forward to it. But there’s no coming back from the dead. And there’s no coming back from fear. I found that out on the troop carrier when I’d puked my guts up and got chunks all over my boots. Everybody knew right then at that very moment that I was not a good actor.

  “Don’t worry Sir, I’ll be fine, I just need to see a few friendly faces, that’s all,” I said, blinking a few times as I stared at my section leader who stood in front of me.

  He nodded his head, catching a glimpse of the Marine Sergeant behind me. He was so hardened that he didn’t even blink. Apparently, seeing a man with his throat ripped out was just another daily occurrence for this particular section leader. Yeah, Grimes was a bad ass alright. And I was overly certain that he wasn’t acting. The difference between me and him was that I was a rookie, and he was a vet. A vet that had seen plenty of action, whilst I’d just dreamed of it. But there was no more dreaming now. I was in the thick of it whether I liked it or not.

  “Well, you’re missing all the fun. The pirates have overtaken the quarry; they’re holding some of the resources hostage. Well, you know what I mean. I think they’re looking to bargain their way out of this. But the natives aren’t having none of it. They want their resources and the pirates. In that order. But I gather that the pirates have a response awaiting them. So we better get a move on, before you miss all the hoopla,” section leader Grimes said.

  I looked at him and nodded my head. The railgun felt heavy in my grip. The barrel was weighted down, even though I’d emptied half my clip into those two dinosaurs.

  “What about these foul beasts? Where have they come from?” I asked, pointing directly at the first dinosaur I’d taken out. The one that snuck up on me.

  Grimes started to laugh. It was a foreign sound to me. One; I hadn’t heard him laugh ever. Not even during training. Not even when one of the recruits had defecated himself whilst swinging on the monkey bars. Everybody else had found that funny. But for some reason, our friend Grimes hadn’t even let out a whimper. But now, now he was laughing his ass off. I must be a funny guy. A funny guy – a bad actor – a tough Marine. What a combination. Girls, queue up, there’s plenty to go around.

  “What’s so damn funny?” I asked, my face getting hot. I don’t know if it was embarrassment or anger. Probably a combination of the two.

  “Don’t you know nothing about these people? The natives that is? Were you even paying attention on board the troop carrier? You know… The damn briefing… That thing we do, the meeting before the mission? You know what I’m talking about right?” Grimes asked, he was still laughing, not as loud as before, this one was more of an inward laugh, a chuckle. The sort of laugh that dies down but you can still hear the rumbling of it as it trails off.

  “Yeah, I was present at the briefing, but I had other things on my mind. I’m sorry, I zoned out. Call me crazy, but I was nervous. Nervous of what war would feel like. Because I knew that this was gonna be messy. The Marine sergeant had run into me as my nerves began to get the better of me. He�
�d drummed into everybody that this would not be a cakewalk. Blood would be spilt. At least that’s what he said. And by then, by the time those words had left his mouth, I was busy thinking and imagining what horrors lay in wait for us. I just didn’t know there would be dinosaurs, that’s all,” I said, my face still feeling red raw.

  Yeah, I was angry.

  “Those dinosaurs, those beasts, they are kept by the natives. Kept as pets. Pets to guard their farms and their quarries. Looks like some of them have gone AWOL. The natives warned us that there would be a few on the rampage. Something about the pirates cutting them loose when they arrived at the quarry. They told us not to harm them. That they wouldn’t bite. I guess they were wrong. Oh well, might as well clear things up when we see them later on. Be sure to explain that their friendly pet dinosaurs aren’t as tame as they led us to believe. But enough about them, we need to make our way to the quarry, there’s a firefight going on and I don’t want to miss it,” section leader Grimes said.

  I nodded my head. Section leader Grimes was anxious to get a move on. Truth be told, so was I. I’d seen enough of our current surroundings. And hanging around the dismembered corpse of my Marine Sergeant was making me feel a little bit queasy. So I figured it was time to get going.

  “I’m ready when you are,” I said, still holding my railgun tightly in the grip of my hands.

  I could hear metal flexing as I put pressure on the barrel. I was eager to get to the quarry and do my part. There was nothing worse than a Marine that didn’t pull his weight around. And I wasn’t looking to become that Marine. Plus, the thought of being in a firefight was causing me an upset stomach. I remember back in training, the Marine Sergeant had told us that it was the actual idea of fear that struck fear within your core, not fear itself.

  “I was born ready, soldier! What’s your name?” Grimes asked.

  I wasn’t sure whether he wanted my actual name, my birth name or if he wanted my numbered name. A numbered name is the name that the Marine Corps gives each recruit. It’s a six-number sequence. It was tattooed on the fabric of my suit. On the right shoulder and the left shoulder. Plus, it was tattooed on the inside of my suit, just above the neckline. But I figured that he wouldn’t be asking me for my numbered name. Seeing that he could easily see the numbers if he so wished, so there was no use in enquiring about it. Unless he was blind, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t. Impaired vision is a no go in our profession. You need to be sharp out here in the battlefield.

  “Jensen. That’s my name,” I said, feeling a little self-conscious.

  I didn’t like my name. It sounded foreign to me. It wasn’t a normal name. Not a normal name for a North American Marine. I wasn’t called John. I wasn’t called Mark. I wasn’t called Steve. I was called Jensen. To me, it sounded German. And Germany - both past and present - weren’t exactly close with the United States back on Earth. So I had a problem with the name. But it didn’t seem like Grimes had one. He looked as if he didn’t really give a crap. All he wanted to do was shoot some pirates.

  “Follow me, the quarry’s this way,” Grimes said, playfully punching me on the arm.

  I nodded my head sternly. The glare of the sun was making it difficult for me to see. It was midday local time. According to my readouts on my PDA screen, it was 90°F. Baking hot temperatures weren’t exactly ideal for combat. Troops would get tired. They’d be dehydrated. And dehydrated troops weren’t good for nothing. But then again, this was the Marines, and the Marines didn’t care about the weather. All they cared about was making sure the scumbag pirates they were fighting paid for what they had done. Illegally invading somebody else’s planet was a sin. A sin that the Global Galactic Empire frowned upon. And the punishment for such a sin was simple, it was death. And death was surely what awaited the pirates at the quarry.

  Grimes and I vacated the area. We kept a brisk pace, steadily making our way toward the rock quarry. We walked Pasta few sand dunes and thirsty looking trees. Trees where their leaves were bare, only a few hung onto the branches, starved of both cool air and water. This place didn’t look like it got much of any of those two things. The best way to describe this planet was barren. Barren of life, nature and peace. The Marines job was simple. We would be attempting to bring back peace. Peace for the natives. And with that, hopefully life and nature would follow.

  “Brace yourself for heavy contact, there’s a load of pirates hunkering down behind the rocks, there’re even a few snipers. Watch your back out there,” Grimes said to me before we reached the quarry.

  I couldn’t believe how quickly we’d made it to the site of engagement. It felt like only seconds ago I was back near the troop carrier, looking at the torn throat of my Marine Sergeant as he lay on the ground, blood profusely escaping every orifice and hole left behind by the dinosaur that had attacked him.

  But nothing could prepare me for the onslaught that awaited us. At first I didn’t hear it. But then I did. A whisper and then a crack in the wind. Past my ear, inches away from my helmet. It was a bullet. A near miss. The air in my lungs seemed to escape rapidly as I sucked in and gasped for air. I was panicking. Not because I had nearly been shot. But because Grimes was now on the floor, motionless. We were on an incline, a hill. We weren’t even in the enemies’ view. We hadn’t even made it past no man’s land yet. But it didn’t matter. They’d spotted us. They’d spotted Grimes. I quickly dived to the ground and crawled towards him.

  Blood was starting to pool around Grimes. It was slowly but surely dribbling its way down the hill. Some of it touched my hand. I suppressed the urge to flick my hand away from the sand. I felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. Not another one. Not another dead soldier. Not another dead superior. I was a bad omen. Bad luck. He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be. But knowing my luck, he was.

  I continued to slowly crawl over toward Grimes who was still motionless on the sand. The incline continued for a few metres, the horizon beating against the Plexiglas of my helmet. I could hear the wind cracking and whispering around me. More shots, more near misses, more enemies. I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t get a bead on them. I didn’t know where they were, but the problem was they knew exactly where I was. Either they were bad shots or nervous.

  The sand around me was kicking up as bullets hit the circular radius around me. I heard two thuds. Grimes had been shot again. But he still wasn’t moving. I finally reached him, and put a hand on his chest. I remained buried in the sand, not daring to move. I was feeling for any signs of life. I expected to feel his chest rising up and down, on account of him breathing. But unfortunately, his chest was rigid. He wasn’t breathing. I had to check, though. You just didn’t take any chances with a downed Marine. You made sure that they were either breathing or dead before you moved on. And moving on was definitely the number one priority on my mind. The snipers shooting at me made sure of that.

  “Come on Grimes, hang in there,” I said, dragging myself on top of him. I heard a few more shots whisk past me. But I didn't pay them any attention. My attention was firmly locked onto Grimes. And unfortunately, what I saw wasn’t pretty.

  “Fuck,” was all I could say when I saw Grimes’s face.

  His helmet had been blown out. Shards of Plexiglas were scattered across the sand. A massive pool of blood was pouring out of the hole in his helmet. But it wasn’t the blood or the shards of glass that was disturbing me. It was the fact that half of his face was gone. Completely obliterated. Smashed into a million pieces. Bone fragments and brain matter gawked back at me. I blinked a few times, but the image was burned into my retinas. Even the darkness within the inside of my skull couldn’t block out the image of what I’d just seen. There was no saving Grimes. He was gone. And I was alone.

  “Semper Fidelis, Marine,” I said, reaching for his tags and ripping them off.

  Unlike old school Marines - the Marines from the past - our tags were in a pocket in our pants. It made it easier to recover the tag, because the space helmet was difficult to remov
e. With Grimes that was obviously not the case seeing that his helmet was smashed into a million pieces along with his skull. But I was just glad that I didn’t need to put my hand into what resembled a bowl of noodle soup.

  Suddenly, the sounds of the battlefield around me came crashing into my ears. Reality was setting in. I’d been heavily distracted by the loss of both my comrades in such short succession. But if I was to survive this, I couldn’t risk dwelling on the sadness around me. I had to fight. I had to get payback for Grimes and the Marine Sergeant. And payback was exactly what I had planned for these pirate bastards.

  But suddenly, I had company.

  “Hey you down there, get your ass up here and join the fight, Marine!” Somebody said.

  I looked up and saw a man standing on the top of the incline. He was holding a railgun just like me.

  “I got a man down! He’s been shot in the face and has lost a lot of blood. He’s KIA. Do I just leave him here?” I asked, feeling a little stupid, all the while the constant sound of gunfire drowned my voice out, making it hard for me to hear myself think. I’d already left a man behind earlier on. I guess it was a redundant question. Of course I was just supposed to leave him there. There’s no sense in carrying dead weight around.

  “Get up here Marine and bring the pain,” the guy on the ridge said, extending a hand toward me.

  I was still lying face down in the dirt. The lifeless corpse of Grimes was beside me. His blood was causing quite the mess. My spacesuit was drenched in the stuff. But I had a mission. My mission was simple. I was gonna make these pirates pay. So I stood up, brushed the sand off me, and shook my railgun. Clumps of dirt and sand escaped the barrel and the nooks and crannies that made up the hulking metal gun.

  I checked the clip and reloaded. I had enough ammo to get through the next couple hours. Even if the next couple hours entailed nothing but continuous fighting. We were packing heat. Every single one of us had enough firepower to bring down a small army. That’s how the folks back on Earth liked to do things. And quite frankly, it was also how I liked to do things.