Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1)

by Paul E. Cooley

  She reached his room, double-checked the glowing nameplate on the door, and knocked. Adrenaline pumped into her veins while she waited for a response. When the speaker crackled with Gunny’s gruff voice, she nearly jumped.

  “This is Cartwright. Who is it?”

  She tried to speak, but her voice choked up on her. She cleared her throat and tried again, the words falling from her lips in a raspy whisper. “Corporal Kalimura, Gunny.”

  “Hmm,” the man growled through the speaker. The door slid aside and she heard him say, “Come in.”

  Trying to keep her heart from hammering out of her ribcage, she walked through the doorway and into the room. The door slid closed with an eerie whisper. Kali looked around the stateroom. Gunny sat in a comfortable chair in the corner, back straight, resting his forearms on the chair’s supports. He pointed to a chair in front of him. “Welcome, Corporal. Have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Gunny,” she said, her voice a little more confident now. She walked further into the room, trying to keep her eyes focused on Gunny rather than the room. In her peripheral vision, she saw several holo prints hanging from the walls. Although she barely made sense of them or made out the images, the colors vibrated and slashed through the normal dull and lifeless gray color of the walls.

  As she sat, Gunny leaned forward slightly, his face set in a thin line. “First off, Corporal, you are not in any trouble.”

  She exhaled the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Glad to hear that, Gunny.”

  Cartwright’s lips twitched at the corner, but never made it to a full smile. “I know you’ve had some difficulties leading your squad, but it sounds as though you made a breakthrough today.” She only blinked in reply. “Based on that, I’m going to make a change to squad assignments.”

  He’s relieving me of squad command! A wave of panic rose through her, setting her heart trip-hammering once more. “I don’t understand, Gunny,” she said at last.

  “I know you don’t,” he said. “So let me explain. After consulting with the Lieutenant, I’ve decided to remove Private Niro from your squad in exchange for Lance Corporal Dickerson.”

  She blinked again. Dickerson? What the hell? “May I ask why, Gunny?”

  He leaned back in the chair, his eyes studying her body language. At last, a small smile broke across his face. “We think you need both the help, and the experience. Dickerson is an insubordinate ass, but he’s damned good at what he does. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, Gunny. On both counts.”

  Cartwright chuckled, but the sound was so short, it might have been her imagination. The smile had also disappeared. “The Lieutenant and I are interested in you, Corporal. We think you have great potential. Being shunted off to an S&R ship is not a glamorous assignment. We do very dangerous work and are hardly ever seen as important by the brass. But it’s the best place in the Corps to learn survival and leadership techniques. You are lucky we grabbed you.”

  She said nothing, but tried to make sense of what he was saying. Interested in her career? Then why were they trying so fucking hard to wash her out?

  “Corporal,” he said, the tension in the room ratcheting up as he leaned forward. “Why did you join SFMC?”

  The question made her blink. “Gunny?”

  He raised a hand. “Answer the question, please.”

  “It’s a long story, Gunny. Why are you interested?”

  A slight smile tugged at his lips. “The Sol Federation provides a decent living for a family man or woman in the armed forces, provided they stay on Earth, Mars, or on one of the civilian stations.” The smile died. “But out here? No families. No shore leave. Just space, possible death or dismemberment, and the promise of promotion.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she said. “Only I wouldn’t consider the stations or even Mars a good place to raise a family.”

  “Touché,” he said. “You’re from Mars.” It was a statement, not a question, so she only nodded in reply. “Why didn’t you stay there? You could easily have stayed on Schiaparelli, worked your way up to NCO, and had a relatively cushy assignment.”

  “True,” she said. “But that’s not what I wanted, Gunny.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, Corporal. What did you want?”

  “I wanted—” She trailed off into silence. She heard the voice of her mother asking the same questions, challenging her decisions, begging her to stay, worry punctuating her voice. Shut up, she thought, you’re dead.

  “Corporal?”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she said, a flush on her cheeks. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat and met his eyes. “My father died on Schiaparelli while protecting Atmo’s precious mines.” The flush on her cheeks remained, but now it was from anger. “Shot to death, suit shredded, just a deity-damned bag of blood in the end. That was his promised promotion. And all his family received was a fucking commendation letter, a pathetic pension, his hazard bonus, and a ‘thank you’ from the fucking corporate assholes.”

  Gunny said nothing. She realized she was ranting, and some part of her wanted to stop, to not come apart like this in front of him, but the thoughts, the rage and grief, just continued pouring from her mind.

  “Mars is not a place for a family man or woman, Gunny. Not in my fucking eyes. It’s a goddamned cesspool where the miners get used up for a pathetic paycheck and the SFMC and SF Army keep the peace rather than protecting Sol Federation citizens.”

  Kali had leaned so far forward in her chair, she was practically out of it. Gunny had already moved backward in his, but she hadn’t even noticed.

  “So fuck Mars. Fuck Earth. And those civilian stations?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t raise a family there. Ever.”

  Silence filled the room. For a moment, neither she nor Gunny so much as breathed. Finally, he nodded, his hands clasped together. For once, she noticed his eyes weren’t hard. They were soft, understanding, the eyes of a favorite uncle concerned about his nephew or niece. A slight pain welled up from her hands. She looked down at her palms and saw the angry and raw half-moon indentations from her fingernails.

  “Thank you, Corporal,” Gunny finally said.

  She blinked at him. “Sorry, Gunny. For what?”

  “For being honest, Kalimura.” He put his hands back on his knees. “I don’t think I had any idea who you were until now.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find any words. Instead of shaking from the hurt of memories, she felt as though she was going to cry. Kali sniffed back the urge and did her best to keep her lips from quivering. When she felt as though she had control of herself, she unclenched her hands and folded them in her lap. “Anything else you’d like to know, Gunny?”

  “One night,” he said, “you and I are going to have a drink together. We can talk a bit about Mars, if you like.”

  “Thank—” She swallowed hard. “Thank you, Gunny.”

  He nodded. “You’re welcome.” The softness in his eyes disappeared and his lips reset into a harsh line. “We’re making the change in assignments effective immediately. Before I notify Niro and Dickerson of the assignment transfers, I’d like to hear your opinion on the matter.”

  She opened her mouth to respond before realizing she had nothing to say. What could she say? If she expressed concern, Gunny would think her weak. If she was too pleased with it, he might think she favored Dickerson over Niro, or was relieved to get a green Marine out of her squad. Basically, there was nothing she could say that was safe. “I believe this will work, Gunny,” she said at last. “My only concern is Dickerson hasn’t had a chance to gel with my squad.”

  “Piffle,” Cartwright growled. “He and Carbonaro have worked together before. The same with Wendt and Elliott. There won’t be any problems there. If anything, your squad should be more capable. I still think you need to learn more leadership skills and this will either help you advance rapidly, or set you up for failure.” He let the words hang in the room, his eyes boring into hers. “Understood?”


  “Yes, Gunny,” she said in a monotone.

  “Good,” Cartwright said. “Now, tomorrow we’re leaving for Pluto. I suggest you spend some time with your squad tonight, or at least visit Dickerson for a little one-on-one.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she said. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Cartwright smirked. “Don’t believe for a second we’re going to make things easier on you, Corporal. There is no second chance here. Understood?”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Excellent,” he said without smiling. “Dismissed.”

  She rose from the chair, spun on her heel, and walked out of his room. On her way to the door, she finally succumbed to curiosity and looked at one of the holo displays. Mars slowly turned in the background while several T-87s orbited around her. History, she thought. He’d been there. Fighting while comrades died around him. For the first time since she’d met him, she wondered what kept Gunny up at night. Did he dream of those battles? Or experience nightmares of having his suit ripped open by enemy flechettes, being blindsided by stray debris, or simply pushed away from a T-87 until he entered Mars’ atmosphere at an insane rate of speed?

  The door whispered shut behind her. It took a moment for her heart rate to slow and the rage flittering and dancing in her stomach to cease. Once she felt she could walk without stumbling, she left the NCO barracks and returned to the non-rate area. She was exhausted, but elated just the same. Four weeks of struggling to get a handle on her squad, of being in an S&R Company, not to mention the terrible loneliness of Trident Station threatening to crush her soul.

  Kali smiled just the same. She’d wait until Gunny sent out the notification to the Company before seeing Dickerson or Niro. She needed to think and be alone for a while. Getting Dickerson under her command required some new plans. She hoped that once they were in space, she’d have more of a chance to reform her existing tactics in order to face whatever challenges Gunny and the LT had already dreamt up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dunn stood in the hangar, a thermo mug of coffee held between his hands. Block alarms in S&R Black Company were no doubt going off as he took a sip. It was time for the marines to get up, get their shit together, and proceed to the hangar. He’d already been in the hangar for over an hour.

  Sleep didn’t come easy. It never did before a mission. The moment you lay down and realized you were heading out into space on a mission where every decision you made might end with the death of one of your marines, peace of mind instantly eroded. It didn’t matter how many missions you flew, how many battles you won, the fear was always there.

  S&R Black sat in the lighted hangar like a sleeping kaiju. Even as large as she was, the giant hangar dwarfed her. This hangar was the one that had once housed Mira. Thousands upon thousands of engineers, construction, and support personnel had crawled their way through untold kilometers of cables, connectors, Atmo-steel, and Christ knew what else. Twenty years to construct her in the largest effort humankind had ever dared. Twenty years that enriched the Sol Federation economy, and for the first time since the end of the Common Era, united humankind in a common goal.

  All that effort, and she disappeared seven years into her mission. He wondered how many human and machine hours had been spent creating her from raw stock, asteroid refineries, water dredgers, and mineral skiffs. How many AU of distance had been covered in total by the ships that brought supplies from as far as Earth herself? It was staggering to consider.

  The hangar was as quiet as it had ever been. Most of the Trident Station staff were just waking up or heading to the mess. In less than thirty minutes, jumpsuit-clad marines would storm through the entrance and either head to the ship for final checks, or board her to pack their personal items and settle in for the launch. Engineers and support crew would crawl over her one last time, and then she’d launch into space.

  Captain Dunn? a voice said through his block.

  He smiled to himself. He’d been expecting it. “Good morning, Portunes.”

  I’m sorry to bother you, the AI said, but may I have a moment of your time?

  “Of course,” he said aloud and walked to the holo terminal. Before he could activate it, the display appeared before him with an image of Pluto revolving in its center. “Well, you’re in a hurry.”

  Again, my apologies, Portunes said. Its voice was still emanating from his block rather than the terminal’s speakers. According to the schedule, S&R Black will be launching in the next few hours.

  Dunn established a secure block link to Portunes. He sipped his coffee while he focused on the thoughts he sent to the AI. That is correct. Is there a problem?

  Not a problem, Portunes said. More like an observation.

  And what would that be?

  Pluto shrank in size as the view panned left and out. The remaining display filled with utter black punctuated by distant stars and shadowy objects floating across them. One of the tiniest shapes on the screen magnified slightly. A red circle appeared around it. This is Mira, the AI said. She’s still tumbling toward Pluto, but I have discovered she’s on a collision course with a rather large Kuiper Belt object.

  “Shit,” Dunn said aloud. Do you have a time estimate?

  Yes, Portunes said. If present conditions continue, Mira will collide with KBO-9413 approximately eighty standard hours after S&R Black arrives in Pluto space.

  Eighty hours. That wasn’t long. They’d have enough time to refuel at Pluto, take on extra supplies, and then dash like hell to Mira. It was going to be a damned tight deadline. That drastically changes my schedule, he thought. What do you suggest? That we change its position or velocity before we risk boarding her?

  The AI was silent for a moment. When it spoke again, the arrogance had returned to the voice. Yes, Captain. That is the only logical step. Unless, of course, you wish to see Mira destroyed before you have time to explore her.

  “Taulbee would be in favor of that,” he mumbled. Thank you for the update, Portunes.

  My pleasure, Captain. I shall speak with you again before you launch, if you don’t mind.

  I never mind, he told the AI. Always a pleasure conversing with you.

  He felt Portunes grin before the block connection severed. The holo display remained on, the all too distant object still surrounded by a crimson circle.

  “The gods hate plans,” he said to no one. He stepped away from the holo display and back to the railing overlooking his ship. It winked out behind him as though it had never been on. He considered what Portunes had said. This made the mission more dangerous. Suddenly, he was glad Dickerson had been shuffled to Kalimura. They’d be on a real deadline now. No training opportunities before the tow. Her squad would have to get it right.

  The coffee suddenly tasted bitter. This was a problem, but solvable. They’d just have to change the order of operations and step up the schedule. Colonel Heyes would get his wish after all. No matter how much was left of her, Mira was going to come home in as few pieces as possible. And S&R Black would make it happen.

  He heard a hatch open somewhere behind him. He didn’t bother facing whomever it was. The click of boots on grav plating caught his ears. Dunn took another swig from the heated thermo mug.

  “Sir.”

  Dunn smiled to himself. “At ease, Maurice,” he said without turning. He knew the Second Lieutenant was saluting. “Come forward and take a look at our ship.” Oakes appeared at his left side, back still ramrod straight. The flight insignias on his collar seemed to glow in Dunn’s peripheral vision. “How are you this morning, Maurice?”

  “Fine, sir. Looking forward to taking my girl out of here for a spell.”

  “Roger that,” Dunn said. He turned his head slightly so he saw Oakes’ face. The pilot looked tired, but excited just the same. “You didn’t get enough sleep.”

  “No, sir,” Oakes said with a smile. “Portunes, Nobel, and I had a few things to discuss. It was a necessary conversation.”

  “I’m sure it was. You realize I’m n
ot giving you a gold star for showing up two hours early.”

  Oakes laughed. “I didn’t expect any, sir. Just couldn’t bear to stay in my coffin. Hurry up and wait and all that, sir.”

  Dunn nodded and took another sip of coffee. “Well, Lieutenant, have you stowed your gear?”

  “No, sir. I was waiting for the rest of the crew to show up.”

  “Afraid of looking like the teacher’s pet?”

  “Something like that, sir,” Oakes said. He pointed to S&R Black’s tail. The emblem was scorched in places. “Not sure when that happened. When we get back from our training mission, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Not worried about that, son.” Dunn tapped his mug against the railing. “Just get us there and back in one piece. That’s all you need to be concerned about.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Oakes seemed to be visually inspecting the ship, but Dunn noticed his left foot tapping against the floor. The pilot had served with S&R Black Company for two years now. Two years and seven missions. He was good at what he did, and Dunn had no qualms about him taking them to the outer belt. The tapping foot, though, was something he hadn’t noticed before. “You nervous?”

  The foot stopped and Oakes turned his head. “I have some concerns, sir.”

  Dunn finished the last of the coffee by taking a long draught. His throat and stomach warmed with the liquid. Not for the first time in his life, he was happy the universe sought fit to bring the damned brew into existence. Even if coffee beans no longer existed, at least their synthesis continued. “I have concerns too, Maurice. What are yours?”

  “Well, sir,” he said, “we’ve never had an S&R ship go that far away from a base.”

  “Pluto will be nearby.”

  “Very true, sir. But Pluto doesn’t have any facilities for us, save refueling and some supplies. If something goes wrong, we’re in the hands of Black, Nobel, and myself.”

  “And that’s why I have no concerns about that. You’re also forgetting that both Lieutenant Taulbee and I are capable of helping out, too.”