Doomed Space Marine: A Space Adventure (Bug Wars Book 1)
Page 3
I looked over at Conroy. “And you?”
“Opie,” Conroy said, smiling.
I narrowed my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. My father was a big fan of the—”
“I don’t give a damn. I’m calling you Conroy, Conroy.”
“Okay,” he said and turned back straight in his seat.
I turned back to Billy. “Tell me about your training.”
As I stared at him, I was once again struck by just how much he looked like his father. For just a second, I was transported back to my first mission, with Bill Langham sitting right beside me in a transport vehicle a lot like this one. I might have been as impressed by the damn thing back then as Billy and Conroy were now. I was definitely just as nervous.
Billy’s hands shook as he pulled at the pads and bar, making sure he had pulled it down far enough.
“It’s fine,” I said. “So long as it’s firm against your chest, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” He was trying really hard to suppress the growing nerves in voice. It was always the same thing. Grassfeds were brave, even giddy, before everything started. They were hyped up on stories of victory and honor, on things they had seen in the movies about the battles on Fenal, and the sweeping human victories that, honestly, either never took place or looked so different from the silver screen representations that none of the soldiers I knew who had survived any of it would even watch the damned things.
Maybe, nowadays, they also dreamed of the fat stacks of coin they could make taking on the bugs or getting their name on the bug-kill or missions-complete leaderboards.
Soon though, usually about this time, the truth of what these brand-new Marines had signed up for would start sinking in. The adrenaline of being where they always fantasized about being and wearing the uniform of a serviceman would fade away, leaving a steaming pile of doubt, insecurities and, well, shit to take its place.
It was my job to take that out of them though. Not because I needed to make them feel better about themselves. No. I didn’t care what these grassfeds saw when they looked in the mirror, but they were with me today. Like it or not, they would be flanking, covering, and assisting me in what was sure to be an extremely dangerous mission. If there was anything more detrimental to success than jitters, this Marine hadn’t seen it yet.
“Your training,” I repeated. “Tell me about your training.”
“Right,” Billy said. “It was pretty standard, I guess. Zero-G simulation, VR bugs to deal with, and a timed mission on a collapsing space station.” He nodded. “I aced every single one of them.”
There we go. A little bit of confidence started to bloom on his face. I could use that. Confidence often served as the buffer to reality, especially in the far-flung reaches of space.
“That’s nothing like the real thing,” Conroy said from beside me, shaking his stupid red head with a smug look on his face like he was there when Washington crossed the Delaware.
I turned to the young man. “And how the hell would you know that, red bean?”
His face blanched as he took me in, as though he couldn’t believe he had just spoken about experience in front of the one person you don’t speak about experience in front of. Even if he wasn’t fresh out of diapers, he couldn’t stack up with me on successful missions and won battles. No one in the entire Alliance could, and everyone knew it.
“I just- I mean it’s different, is all,” Conroy stammered. “I went on my first mission a few weeks ago. We had to deactivate some pulse grenades set up on an orbiting bug cruiser a few light years away from the space station. Even met up with a couple of bad boys myself. Banked a lot of coin, and I saved ninety percent of it.” He nodded. “Gonna buy out my contract.”
There was a lot wrong with what that bastard had just said. Bug cruisers were notoriously lightweight jobs. Everyone worth his salt knew they became obsolete over a hundred years ago and that any bugs still on them were strictly of the non-combatant variety. My Grandma Maisy could have taken one of them out if she were still with us, Lord rest her soul. I decided not to chastise him about that though because the rest of what he said was so stupid that it verged on dangerous. More importantly…
“Don’t save your damned coin, you idiot,” I said, my tone a near growl. “The suits are made to absorb bug energy because they are based on bug bio-tech. The same thing that makes the bugs deadly is what powers our armor, and the Alliance would love to see you come back filled to the brim with that energy. That’s why they pay us based on kills and energy returned, but just because they want it, doesn’t mean it’s in your best interest to sell it to them. It actually means the opposite.”
I shook my head. “They charge you for upgrades out there. They don’t do that because they want you dead. They do it because upgrades take energy, and energy used is energy you can’t give them, energy they can’t stockpile or use for whatever the hell they consider a better use of money and time than us.”
I was so enthralled with giving these men a real education that I barely noticed when the transport started moving, jarring itself into hyper speed.
“If that sounds like a scam, that’s because it is,” I continued. “The Alliance is our last best defense against the bugs, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a company like any other. It wants to make a profit, and it wants to get by on as little outgo as humanly possible. There’s no bigger business in the world than that of war, and a war where the entire human race is united on one side; hell, there’s probably never been a bigger gold rush in the history of this whole damn planet.”
I pointed at Billy. “What you’ve got on your back, the suit that’s going to activate the instant we touch down on this moon, it costs the Alliance money, energy, and Ellebruim. You bring back enough energy to make up for that money, and they consider it a win. If you keep doing that, they’ll pay you. It won’t be a fraction of what they’ll make themselves, but it’ll be more than you’ve ever had. And yeah, it’ll be enough to buy you out of your contract.”
I looked back at Conroy as I punctuated my point. “If you survive that is. Let me tell you a dirty little secret, something the Alliance doesn’t put on their brochures. The minute you absorb that bug energy, it’s theirs. You can use it for upgrades. You can use every ounce of it if you want, but if you get ripped apart out there, if your suit gets destroyed, all that energy gets beamed back to the halls. They get theirs and your family gets pieces of you shipped to them in a box. So, don’t be stupid. Don’t think that just because you can store energy to sell for some extra coin that you should. Your shielding, your life support, your weapons all need that same energy so use what you have to in order to make sure that you live. At the end of the day, you’re the only one looking out for yourself.” I turned back to Billy. “Except for me, of course.”
Billy blinked at me. “Is that how he died? Is that why my father didn’t make it?”
It was, of course. Back then, I didn’t know what I know now. Even if I did, I’m not sure I could have convinced Billy’s old man of any of it. He wanted to buy his contract out quickly. He wanted to be there when his son was born so his suit didn’t have the shielding it needed. His weapons weren’t as potent as they needed to be.
I couldn’t tell that to Billy, of course. You can’t tell someone that they’re the reason one of their parents died, even if it was indirectly. That would destroy the kid, and I couldn’t have that right now. I needed him sharp.
“Your father was a good man and a smart man,” I said. “He did everything right.” Here’s where the lie comes in. “He died saving a fellow officer. He died a hero, Billy, and he died so people like you could live in a world that didn’t have to worry about bugs.”
The pilot’s voice came through the speaker on our pods. “Touchdown on the surface of Turan in twelve seconds and counting. Suits will activate imminently. Be swift. Be safe.”
“Be effective,” we all finished.
I looked back at Billy and, once aga
in, saw his father sitting in his seat.
“Let’s get this done.” I nodded at the boy firmly. “You ready?”
“I’m ready,” he answered but, of course, I didn’t believe him.
4
“Twelve seconds,” I said, repeating what the pilot had said through the loudspeaker at us.
Looking over at Billy and then Conroy, I knew what I was going to find. This was when the shit hit the fan, when the dreams these kids had been nurturing since they could hold a bottle with one hand smashed into reality.
I still remembered when it happened to me. It had been seconds before my first mission, the realization that I might be an instant away from dying. I could still feel the shakes and sweats that came with it, the way my stomach refused to settle no matter how many times I told myself I was ready for this. It had been almost as terrifying as when I’d actually jumped out of the Bullet.
Like these two grassfeds, I’d had an older man with me. His name was Rod, and I’d thought he was the wisest, most grizzled man on the face of any earth.
Looking back, I could see now that he wasn’t even as old as I am now. He’d died two missions after my first one, torn to pieces when a bug grabbed him from behind and threw him half a football field into the horde. That was when I’d realized it took more than wisdom to see you through this.
Billy looked panicked but was trying hard to keep it inside. Beads of moisture had sprouted on his forehead, and he was looking straight ahead.
Conroy looked a touch less affected, which made a certain amount of sense. After all, Mr. Ninety Percent had already been through his first mission. At the very least, his pre-first-mission-jitters were already out of the way. That was good. I couldn’t hold two hands and a gun out there. I needed at least one of these grassfeds to be able to hold his own.
“If you’ve got prayers, say them now,” I barked, looking over at Conroy before turning my gaze to Billy.
“We’re Methodist,” he answered, even though what I’d said wasn’t a question.
The truth was, I knew the kid’s religion. Or, at least, I’d known what his father’s had been. The older Bill Langham had spent nearly every waking minute trying to talk me into joining his faith when we’d first met all those years ago. He told me having a relationship with God would give me strength, that it would keep me safe.
I wasn’t sure about any of that.
Still, if his faith comforted the kid, it was good for something. I nodded firmly at him. “Then be quick about it, and tap your emblem, both of you.” I looked over to Conroy as the pilot counted down from three seconds. “It’s time to suit up.”
Looking forward to the point of the Bullet, the part that was seconds away from opening up and depositing us onto an alien land, I tapped on my emblem and allowed my suit to pull out from it.
As it covered me, latching onto both the bracelet attached to the veins on my wrist and the hole drilled into the base of my neck so it could access to my brain stem, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Back before I joined up to fight a bunch of alien bugs, I used to love watching my mother cook at home. It didn’t matter whether we had company, or whether my brother and I were even hungry. She cooked twice a day, and three times on Sunday. The food was good. Don’t get me wrong, my mother was a talented woman when it came to a stove and spatula, but even Picasso was known to put the brush down every once in a while. My mother never had.
I asked her once why she did it, what made her spend so much of her time in the same kitchen, looking out at the world from the same window.
“Because,” she told me, “when you find your place in the world, something that really fits, you don’t leave it. That would just be foolish.”
Those words stuck with me as a kid, even though I didn’t necessarily understand what they’d meant.
That changed the first time I’d tried on my suit. When those cuffs clasped around my arms and that helmet appeared over my face, changing the way I saw the world and interacted with the people around me, I knew what my mother had been talking about that day.
Things had changed since that first time, of course. I had grown a bit more grizzled and my opinions about what we were doing the way I saw the world had changed too.
I used to think there were shades of gray to things, that when my father told me that there was only black and white, only right and wrong, he was being too closeminded. I didn’t know how correct the old man was back then, nor how much like him I’d turn out to be.
The suit had changed too, at least cosmetically. My luck and success in the field had earned me a fair number of upgrades before the change, and since then, I had used my coin wisely. While I was no closer to buying out my contract than Conroy was with one mission to his name, I was tricked out beyond measure. I had bells, whistles, and weapons for days. My suit was a thing of beauty, and I took pride in her.
“Been awhile, Annabelle,” I said, addressing my suit by the name I’d given her. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be as pretty as the last time we went out. Glad to see nothing’s changed.”
“Why, Lieutenant Ryder, you flatter me,” the suit responded, its soft dialect pulsing straight into my brainstem and filling my head with a comforting and familiar tone.
“You should be flattered.” I found myself smiling as I began to interact with my suit for the first time in a while. “You’re a thing of beauty. Hell, if you were a human being, I might actually marry you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I were a human, Lieutenant Ryder, I’d be much too good for you.”
“Can’t argue with that,” I muttered as the bars and pads holding me down gave way, lifting in preparation for the descent we were about to embark on.
“Run diagnostic check, Annabelle.”
I stood slowly enough to keep my balance and adjust to the extra weight I was now carrying with the suit solidified around my body. It might have fit like a glove and even felt as familiar as an old glove at times, but there was still the smallest period of adjustment necessary.
“Brain functions strong,” Annabelle started. “Lung capacity at max. Heartbeat is regular. Other than needing extra Vitamin D, which I’m applying at this very moment, you’re in perfect health, Lieutenant Ryder.” She waited for a beat, and I felt a rush in the back of my neck as the aforementioned vitamin was shot into my bloodstream. I wasn’t sure what good extra vitamin D would do, but the cooling rush felt nice and did much to take my mind off what was coming.
“Shared diagnostics suggest your teammates are both suffering from erratic heart activity,” Annabelle said.
“They’re grassfeds,” I replied, looking around to find them standing up beside me. “Just nervous is all.”
As their commanding officer in this mission, I was able to access their health and energy stats. In fact, the virtual heads-up display constantly floating in my eyes gave me constant pop-up information above their heads. Some Marines turned these extra info feeds off because they were distracting, but I knew better. All information was power.
Floating over Billy’s head was PFC Langham as well as Shielding 100%, Vitals O.K., and Energy 20%. That last sounded bad but considering the Alliance wanted you to harvest excess energy, they always put way more capacity than a suit would normally need for the start of a mission.
Likewise, Conroy was denoted by PFC Conroy. His nameplate showed the same information, but he also had a bright, flashing notation that he was on a 1 Mission Victory Streak! and a 2 Kill Streak!. Well, at least he had actually killed a bug or two, but I always laughed when the Alliance considered even one successful mission a streak.
Furthermore as C.O, I could even be able to adjust certain things inside of their suits if I thought it would help our shared chances of survival, providing that those things were freebies. The ability to choose to use or not use stored and gained energy and coin to upgrade weapons and defense mechanisms was a right. It was written right into the Orbital Constitution, so there was no getting around it.
“Should I issue them sedatives, Lieutenant Ryder?” Annabelle asked, no emotion at all in her computerized voice.
“Negative,” I said. “Let them feel the jitters. It’ll do a lot to keep them alive.”
“Understood. You’ll be approaching the designated ejection point in 1.7 seconds. Alliance regulations insist you take your place on the ejection pad.”
“I know what regulations say,” I muttered, walking over to the point and motioning for the others to do the same. “Open communication lines between the three of us.”
Usually, communication lines had to be mutually agreed upon to be opened. Say, if I ran across another Alliance member who was equal to my rank or who had nothing to do with my current mission or team, I would have to send that guy a request to talk and, depending on whether or not he said yes, we could shoot the shit.
Again, because I outranked these grassfeds and because I was their acting superior on this mission, I didn’t need to ask. I just boomed right into their minds like the damned voice of God.
“Get ready,” I said, but before I could finish my sentence, the Bullet opened, and the ejection pads flung us out into the atmosphere.
As my armored body sailed through the sky, I was inundated with the intel Della and the other Alliance heads had picked up about this place. It wasn’t more than a handful of still pictures showing rounded sand huts (the bugs’ housing of choice), dry and desolate fields full of holes in the ground (where the bugs scavenged for food) and the cave that was our primary mission.
In addition to the pictures, a holographic map was downloaded into my brain. I saw the cave along with the distance between where we were scheduled to land and it. I also saw the positions in which the other three teams would land. The air was thick and a little foggy as I moved through it, but I didn’t need to see the world itself just yet. Not when the map was so detailed.