The Catherine Kimbridge Chronicles #8, Replicants

by Andrew Beery

  In very short order the powerful combination nanite fabrication technology and virtually instantaneous knowledge acquisition via engram cloning… could and would… transform what had been essentially an agrarian Basharite society into a technological superpower capable of producing their own starships.

  As the elders and representatives of the Yorktown taskforce talked, two additional major projects were laid out. The first, a new shipyard hidden beneath an ore-bearing mountain range would begin construction in six months. Its goal would be to provide the Infinity Brigade with the ability to produce and repair enhanced Yorktown-class starships. It would take the Basharites at least six months to train enough of their people and put enough infrastructure in place to begin this massive undertaking.

  The second project was of more moderate ambitions and its construction would begin immediately. The Basharites where going to host two of the deadliest training centers in the known universe… Camp Purejoy and Camp Killjoy.

  Tannaka had requested and received the basic marine engram program. At his age, he was too old to use the physical aspects of the training but the head knowledge would be invaluable as he sought to marshal his planet’s resources in defense against the Ashtoreth. These camps would provide an invaluable resource that would be every bit as important as the technologies that were being shared with his people.

  Camp Purejoy was to become a state-of-the-art Marine Combat Training facility. It would specialize in validating the engram training of fresh recruits. It would focus on maximizing the potential of normal marines.

  Camp Killjoy, on the other hand, was to be the ultimate augmented Marine training facility. Marine training was designed to push troops to become the best at what they did. Augments were naturally stronger, faster and, in many cases, more experienced than their normal brethren. They needed a facility to push and hone their new and extended limits. They needed a place that let them live and train in that special spot between a rock and a hard place. Camp Killjoy was to be that place.

  Of course among all of the reasons to build marine training facilities on Bashar was that there were both an abundance of open spaces and willing recruits. The availability of open space was especially important. Training with deadly force on a spaceship, even one as big as Marine City, was never a good idea. In these camps, especially Killjoy, anything short of small tactical nukes would be fair game when it came to training.

  If the newly promoted Corporal Manu Yreeb was any indication, there would be hundreds, if not thousands of eager young men and women, seeking to join the Infinity Brigade. A chance to stand up to the Ashtoreth and to actually defend their home world… that was a dream none had dared to entertain even a few short days ago. The thought was intoxicating. Had Tannaka been a younger man he might even consider it himself.

  ***

  Commander AG Stone looked out at the long lines that wrapped around the spaceport. In all of Bashar, there were only a hundred and thirty nine thousand Basharites. It seemed as if every single one of them was at the spaceport eager to sign up with the Infinity Brigade. Marine City could only house fifteen thousand troops. After three days of interviewing potential recruits, his team had already slotted eight thousand… and the lines in this one location showed no signs of slowing down.

  “It’s too many sir,” AG said to Admiral Faragon. The admiral had agreed to oversee all marine operations. “We have two other recruiting sites that are just as busy. Every young buck and doe on this planet suddenly wants to become a marine.”

  Bud Faragon looked at the commander. “Tell me son… are these folks physically fit? Can they endure the training?”

  AG just shook his head, not in denial but in amazement. “That’s just it sir. Most are just like Corporal Manu. They’ve been out in the fields their entire lives. Those that couldn’t hack it were culled by the Ashtoreth. These people are physically the best of the best. Mentally, they were bred from the best of the best – they came from explorer stock. The USC Murray Bay only had room for the best and the brightest. Generations later these people are the result. Given their size, stamina and average intelligence, they may well make the best marines in the GCP.”

  “So what you are telling me son is that you have an embarrassment of riches. Sounds like a hell of a problem to have,” Admiral Faragon said dryly. “What you really need is a place to slot all these people. If they won’t all fit in Marine City then find another way to use them.

  “Build a home defense force. Take those that want to face the enemy head on with you to Marine City. Take the ones that just want to protect their families and let them serve as a local militia. If there are more after that, then we’ll look into creating a mercenary corps.”

  AG nodded in agreement. “The reality is… I don’t think we are going to have a choice sir. Now that the Ashtoreth aren’t here most of these people have nothing to do. Saba liquor was the prime industry and it is definitely an acquired taste… unless you are a gator.”

  Bud walked a few feet to the corner of the building’s parapet. “When are your teams scheduled to start scouting out the new training sites?”

  AG put his hands on the railing and looked across the tarmac. “Team bravo is already out looking at site two about a hundred and thirty kilometers north of us. My team is going to check out the primary site on Ojas, the smallest of the three continents, the day after tomorrow.”

  Admiral Faragon turned to look at his friend. “I thought the schedule had your team heading out tomorrow. Why the delay?”

  “Admiral Kimbridge wants to join us but she is working on a pet project with WhimPy that necessitated her presence today and tomorrow. Being as she out ranks me, I thought it best that we delay.”

  “That and the fact that with her Heshe enhancements she’s more than a match for any of you,” remarked the Admiral. “What can you tell me about the primary site?”

  “As you know, Ojas is the only one of the major land masses on Bashar not to have been terraformed by the colonists. By all accounts it’s in pristine condition and has its own ecosystem that matches Bashar as it was some three hundred years ago. It was left alone by the colonists because, frankly, it wasn’t worth the trouble to tame it.

  “It seems there are a lot of unpleasant predators indigenous to that area. Everything from rhino-sized reptiles to large carnivorous birds and flesh-stripping fish. According to our Basharite friends… if it’s big, bad and mean… it lives on Ojas.”

  AG paused to shake his head as he watched a group of recruits attempting to march to one of the shuttles that would take them to an engram training center. He knew that not too many years ago that was him down there and he imagined an officer watching him and shaking his head the same way. These recruits might never appreciate what they missing in boot camp. Still between Camp Purejoy and Camp Killjoy they would have an experience with Marine Combat Training. In this particular case the MCT was more of a validation. The engrams each marine received would have MCT objectives down pat muscle memory could only be obtained one way… and that was through sweat and repetition. AG turned back to the Admiral.

  “Sorry Sir, I was ‘admiring’ our new crop of recruits. Getting back to Ojas… it has a variety of biomes ranging from tropical rainforests to deserts to snowcapped mountains.

  “We can do water training, desert training, cold training, high altitude training… and given what lives there… even when we are not training there is every opportunity to be eaten alive.”

  “In short,” Bud said with a smile, “it seems perfect for Camp Killjoy. I look forward to seeing what you can make of the place.”

  “Me too Sir. Me too.”

  ***

  Gunny Sergeant Ramirez was in heaven. He and a team of six marines were trudging through waist deep mud and silt as they forged the Abas River about a hundred and twenty or thirty klicks north of the spaceport. This was the proposed site for Camp Purejoy.

  Purejoy was the site designated for Marines that were still norms. While inte
nse in every respect, it was not intended to meet the very unique needs of an augmented marine. The weapons training would not include the deliberate use of deadly force. Stun grenades and flash-bang simulators would replace actual anti-personnel weapons. Camp Purejoy was designed to extract every ounce of potential out of a marine without actually killing them in the process.

  What made this location especially attractive was that it was a hop skip and a jump from the spaceport. At just over a hundred klicks, it was an easy walk for troops wearing stark suits. It was, also, far enough away from population centers that the trainees could safely push the limits of their training in such a way that would not endanger the locals. In this place, there were no locals.

  The seven marines were making good time…even fording the wide but shallow river. Their Stark suits were powered up but their protective helmets where retracted; affording them a clear view of the surroundings. If a threat presented itself, the head protection could be raised with a mental command in a fraction of a second.

  As they approached the far side of the river it began to rain. At first the rain was light but in the span of just a few short minutes it became a raging down pour. It made slogging through the muck and the mire just that much more fun.

  “Ah, it reminds me of boot camp,” Ramirez shouted cheerfully over the din of the thunder. “If it ain’t rain’n… we ain’t training! Hurrah!”

  It was perhaps the noise of the falling rain and accompanying thunder that allowed the enemy to sneak up on the marines. Normally, the sensors built into the stark suits would have detected the heat signatures of an approaching threat but that presupposed that the enemy would be walking or crawling on land. Gators on the other hand, even Ashtoreth ones, liked to swim. The first sign that the marines were under attack came when Lance Corporal Mathews was pulled under the water.

  His attacker apparently underestimated the strength of a Mark Ten Stark suit. Mathews grabbed whatever was attempting to bite his leg off and threw it physically out of the water. To everyone’s great surprise the creature was an Ashtoreth male wearing little more than leather gauntlets and a matching belted vest. The belt on his waist carried various small tools which included a sheathed knife.

  The Ashtoreth landed on the shore and rolled nimbly to his feet. He drew his knife in one swift motion. The next moment the knife was in the air and impaling Mathews in the left eye. The Lance Corporal was dead before his body hit the water.

  “Activate helmets!” Gunny Sergeant Ramirez shouted. His own helmet extended over his face and his HUD quickly located a dozen more Ashtoreth in the water approaching his men.

  Gunny Sergeant Ramirez was a big man. He had been exceptionally strong before he became an augment. Now that he was, he was virtually a superman. Unfortunately for the sergeant, the opponent he faced was also the beneficiary of augment technology and had a greater natural strength. The shielding built into the Stark suit would have been an equalizer except for the fact that their opponents were armed with knives. Knives were slow moving objects that would not be stopped by the micro-hyperfield emitters built into the Mark Ten Stark suits.

  Ramirez was an expert in hand to hand combat. He deflected the initial thrust of the Ashtoreth’s blade. It still struck him as odd that these Gators were dressed in primitive garb and armed only with knives. Had they been on dry land, the fight would have been over quickly. As it was, fighting two against one with a stronger opponent who was better suited to fighting in a semi-aquatic environment proved a challenge for the seven marines.

  They quickly took out four of the Gators with well-placed shots from plasma rifles. The rest were on them too fast to stop. Four more Gators were taken down in hand-to-hand combat as Stark-enhanced human augments broke Ashtoreth bone and crushed Ashtoreth skulls.

  The number of Ashtoreth fighters proved too much however. Soon it was only JJ Hammond and Gunny Ramirez left facing five very angry and very motivated Gators.

  The marines had managed to move the fight out of the water and onto the muddy river bank. The five Ashtoreth surrounded the two marines in a loose circle. Each of the Gators now held two knives… one in each hand.

  “So,” JJ said nonchalantly, “you ever been to a Louisiana barbeque where they served roasted gator?”

  “Can’t say as I have,” the Gunny answered dryly. “Any good?”

  “Not too bad. Kind’a tastes like chicken…”

  “You don’t say,” Ramirez said as he dodged a blade thrust. His own combat knife taking a chunk out of the arm of an Ashtoreth Gator in the process. The wounded fighter howled in rage.

  “What a baby,” JJ grinned. “Ya barely nicked him.”

  The biggest of the five remaining attackers growled an order to the others. The AI in the marine’s Stark suits translated the command. “Poison your blades.”

  Chapter 12: Gator Bait…

  Admiral Cat Kimbridge had just stripped off her uniform and stepped into the shower when the call came in from her executive officer that a marine contingent had been ambushed while scouting a potential site for one of the two training camps. With water still coursing down her body she sighed and grabbed a towel and walked into her the bedroom. Her quarters at Marine City were spacious by any definition. The bathroom she had just vacated was larger than her original quarters when the Yorktown was first commissioned.

  As she wrapped the towel around herself a holographic image of Ben materialized in front of her. Apparently the WhimPy subroutine which had been put in charge of managing holographic communications within the Marine City base had not picked up on the nuances of person to person interactions especially as regarded appropriate dress.

  If Ben was shocked to see his commanding officer dressed only in a towel, he hid it well. Out of politeness he turned and looked a different direction.

  “Give me an update, Ben. What’s the situation with our marines?” Cat asked as she donned a clean uniform.

  “Seven marines were scouting the Purejoy site north of the spaceport. As they crossed the larger of the two rivers, the Abas, they were attacked by a group of Ashtoreth soldiers that apparently had been on a hunting vacation. According to some of our Ashtoreth detainees the party likely included Praefectus Niegar who is, and I quote ‘the supreme leader of Ashtoreth forces on Bashar.’

  “Apparently Ashtoreth tradition holds that an honorable hunt must be conducted with a minimum of modern conveniences. In this case, the hunters had knives and traditional leather vestments. No communication gear. No medical kits. No modern weaponry of any type.”

  “Unarmed Ashtoreth soldiers were able to overpower augmented marines in fully functional Stark suits? That doesn’t seem possible,” Cat said as she dried her hair with a towel.

  “Sergeant Hammond and Gunny Ramirez both managed to send us feeds from their Stark recorders. The ambush occurred in the water just before the marines made it to shore. The Ashtoreth can stay submerged for twenty minutes and function quite well in aquatic environments. In addition, knives are an especially effective weapon against a stark suit. The shields are designed to repel fast moving objects and energy weapons. Blades can be pushed right through if you have enough strength.”

  Cat nodded. She had known about the weakness in the Stark suits but had not considered it a major shortcoming. She realized now that she might have to reconsider that position.

  “Survivors?”

  Ben shook his head. “Our boys took out nine of theirs but we lost six of our seven and Sergeant Hammond was captured. His tracker was disabled but his quantum link is still sending engram updates so we know he is alive.”

  “And the six that were killed… when are they scheduled to decant?”

  “Lance Corporal Mathews should be reviving in about an hour. The others are going to be less than twenty minutes behind him. I took the liberty of directing all of the revivals to the Marine City facility.”

  Cat tied her hair behind her head. As she walked towards the door to her suite it swished open. “Ben, I’
m heading down to the med bay. Let Commander Stone and Admiral Faragon know I’m on my way down to the planet’s surface as soon as our men are up and about.”

  ***

  JJ Hammond had a headache. This was not an uncommon condition for a Brit that liked to get pissed as much as the next guy… but in this particular case he wasn’t feeling the after effects of too many pints. He was seated on the ground.

  He started to open his eyes but decided abruptly that it would not be a good idea. The light, dim though it was, just caused his head to hurt worse. He seemed to be chained to a post by a collar around his neck. He reached up to feel the shackle around his neck.

  His arm still ached from where he had used it to shield himself from a knife lunge. The blade had had a sickly yellow goop on it that JJ assumed was some type of fast-acting neurotoxin. All he knew was the moment it cut through his Stark suit and into his skin his arm went numb and the rest of him shortly thereafter.

  The Gunny had been making a good account of himself before JJ had passed out. He wondered what became of his friend. With any luck he had been killed and was even now ogling the nurses up on the Yorktown or Marine City. No… when it came to dying only JJ Hammond was unlucky enough to live.

  The nanites in his system had done a good job of cleaning out the toxins… but it was still hard to think. He could tell from the state of his full bladder that the poisons were looking for a way out. He decided the reclamation systems in his Stark suit had not been tested in a while and so he let loose. It was only after his leg got wet that he realized his Stark suit had been removed.

  “So the runt soils himself in fear,” a deep, and vaguely synthetic, voice said.

  JJ bit the bullet and forced his eyes open. The light was dim but still it hurt his eyes. The first thing he saw was his missing Stark suit. His body armor was on a short legged stone table. The brain box which contained the suit’s AI and communications package was a thoroughly melted puddle of metal. Apparently his captor didn’t want to take the risk of the suit having a tracker built into its electronics package. Probably a smart move on his part.