Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1)

by Paul E. Cooley

  And that’s when her inner vision filled with the shrinking view of Neptune and the shipyards. The massive human-made structure appeared as a multi-tiered web of platforms, tubes connecting them, domes, and the massive construction bays. With the exception of warning lights, the majority of the station hid in the shadows, lit only by the ambience of Neptune’s shine against its moons.

  Her heart rate started to slow. She was still terrified, but the images soothed her the slightest bit. Corporal. In ten minutes, the AI said, G-forces and gravity will reach equilibrium. With each passing moment, the strain against your body will lessen. You only have to focus for another nine minutes, and you’ll be able to stand from the couch and operate normally. Please, Corporal. Hang on.

  She gave no sign she’d heard the AI, or comprehended its words, but she did feel the force lessening on her soft tissue as well as her lungs and bones. Seconds ticked off. The pain of her cramped fingers slowly dwindled. More seconds. A full minute. The initial acceleration slackened, the fuselage shuddering less and less. She wished Black was pumping silence through her block, tricking her brain into believing her ears heard absolutely nothing. “Nothing” was what she needed to hear.

  Kali continued staring at the image of Neptune, the shipyards quickly becoming a misshapen series of dots and lines against the planet’s brilliant colors. Little by little, her fingers let go of the couch arms. Little by little, her lungs took in deeper breaths. A few minutes later, her heart rate was nominal, and the G-forces had subsided enough for her to readjust her back against the couch.

  Thank you, Corporal. The main acceleration phase is over. You did very well.

  She nearly mouthed a “thank you” to the disembodied voice coming through her block. Kali felt the AI smiling. The feed continued until Oakes announced they could exit their couches. When she finally lost the link, she felt empty as though she’d lost a part of herself.

  “Up and at ‘em, marines!” Gunny yelled as he unbuckled himself from the couch. Taulbee was next to spring up. Standing before the rows of buckled marines, his eyes found Dickerson. The marine was still snoring. “Somebody wake that asshole up.”

  A gale of laughter filled the room and even Kali chuckled. She reached down, hit the restraint release, and stood on rubbery legs. She took a few steps back and watched as the acceleration couch folded itself into the floor, leaving no evidence it had ever been there. As the other marines did the same, their own couches disappeared. Carbonaro was beside Dickerson’s couch. She pulled the visor from his head and put it in the front pocket of his jumpsuit. His roaring snore sputtered as though disturbed, and then started up again. Carbonaro smiled at everyone, turned back to Dickerson, reared back her left hand, and let it fly at full force.

  The palm of her hand struck his cheek with an audible “smack” that echoed in the confined space. Dickerson’s eyes opened and he stared at her, a look of surprise and shock etched into his face. After a second, his expression lightened into a grin. “You hit like a girl,” he said.

  She smacked him again, and this time, he yelled in mock pain. She shook her head. “Dammit, Dickerson. Get your ass out of the couch before Gunny has us all pushing the fucking floor.”

  “Aye, ma’am,” he growled.

  Kali headed to her station at the ship’s rear. While flying, and not in briefing or active combat operations, her job was to help monitor Black. All command officers, both NCO and commissioned, knew basic astrogation, how to read diagnostic reports, and even how to repair critical ship components. At least enough to get the ship limping back to port should she suffer extreme damage during combat or a collision with solar objects.

  Before beginning combat training, she’d spent nearly a year learning ship mechanics, reactors, propulsion systems, and AI interfaces. Those lessons didn’t focus on a ship as large as an S&R, but most applied to a craft of any size large enough to use ion drives and fusion reactors. Black was more complex, sure, but she’d logged countless hours in the simulators troubleshooting and repairing ship components.

  Her station chair sat before a bank of holo-displays. She climbed into the seat and established a block link. Black confirmed her access and a series of holographic images appeared before her. “Corporal Kalimura logging in,” she said aloud.

  Oakes’ voice responded. “Welcome, to your first flight aboard S&R Black, Corporal! Be prepared for extreme hazing.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said with a grin. The insects buzzing in her stomach weren’t from fear. Instead, they were borne from excitement. They were in space. They were hurtling away from Neptune at an incredible speed, but only at 1/10th of Black’s maximum velocity. One of the many displays showed the space the ship was leaving behind. Neptune was still large enough to fill part of it, but the shipyards were no longer visible. Soon, they would be beyond Neptune’s moons and preparing for stasis.

  She ran through the logs looking for communications anomalies, stress warnings, or any figures outside expected ranges. She didn’t find any. “Kalimura to Oakes. All readings look nominal, sir.”

  “Roger that, Corporal. Stay on it.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  An hour passed. Then another. And another. Oakes and Nobel chatted with her over private comms channels, telling jokes between status updates, and the two men describing missions over Mars, Saturn, and Jupiter. When the ship finally reached a safe distance from Neptune, Oakes gave the all clear and relieved her from watch duty.

  Spending so much time in front of the holos focusing on displays of numbers and equations, Kali’s eyes and mind burned with strain. She hoped the bio-nannies would get their shit together and start a little analgesic help pronto. Otherwise, a migraine was going to make this trip a whole hell of a lot worse. She rolled her shoulders back and forth as she tried to relax and loosen the cramped muscles.

  “Corporal, this is Gunny.”

  “Go ahead, Gunny,” she said aloud.

  Cartwright sounded somewhat amused, but his voice held that grainy edge of frustrated anger that always seemed to lie below. “Meeting in five minutes in the cargo bay. Be there.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she said. She needed to pee. That was the first order of business. She rose from the chair, broke the block link, and made her way to the head.

  The ship’s grav-plated interior provided 80% of Earth’s gravity. Neptune station operated closer to 90%. So while it felt much the same, her body had less resistance against it. She knew if she jumped, she could rise high enough to slam her head into the deck roof. Everything, including liquids, hung in the air longer than you were used to. Timing could be difficult. She’d once watched a group of non-rates play catch with a 1kg ball in 70% gravity.

  It should have been easy for the marines to throw and catch the ball, but their timing was so off that the game actually required effort. It had been a delight to watch the ball rise in impossible arcs, only to drift down so much slower than her brain expected. It was like magic.

  The head, therefore, could be tricky as well. The z-g toilets were still anathema. She wasn’t the only woman in the universe still angry that after hundreds of years of technological leaps, they still hadn’t perfected a better system for urinating in space. But here on S&R Black, at least at this moment, she’d have gravity, albeit less than normal, to work with.

  The head was empty, as she expected it to be. She quickly took care of business and headed to the cargo area. She caught a glimpse of Dickerson’s tall frame retreating through a bulkhead into the bay. At least he’s going to be on time for once, she thought. Kali followed, hoping she wouldn’t be the last one in. She was.

  The cargo bay, even filled with a month’s worth of supplies, two z-g combat skiffs, and the assault craft, still had more than enough room to serve as a gym, a briefing room, and a rec area. Captain Dunn stood with his back to one of the skiffs, Taulbee and Cartwright next to him. The rest of the company, apart from Nobel and Oakes, sat on crates or stood against the bulkhead. She quickly walked in and noticed
her squad sitting together at the far end. A vacant crate sat next to Dickerson. Kali frowned at it, but then took a seat on it.

  “Corporal,” he said with a yawn. “Thought you’d never arrive.”

  “Stow it, marine.” She tried to make the words into a growl, but the smile on her face gave her away. “I assume this is the briefing.”

  Dickerson nodded and cracked his knuckles. “We go into stasis in what, a day? Two?”

  “Depends,” she said. “How much of a hurry are we to get there?”

  Dunn cleared his throat. The muted conversations in the bay immediately ceased as all eyes focused on the captain. “Marines. I trust everyone enjoyed our trip out of Neptune space.” There were some giggles, but they were short lived. Dunn’s smile was infectious and she found herself grinning in spite of herself. On an S&R ship, protocol always took a backseat to esprit de corp. “Yesterday, during the briefing, we explained this would be a training mission. Rather than heading straight to the outer Kuiper Belt, we’ll first make a stop at the Pluto Exo-Observatory. We’ll practice refueling there as well as perform some diagnostic checks on the ship. The LT and Gunny have already drawn up squad duty assignments, and when you get out of stasis, you will follow those assignments to the letter.

  “I had originally planned for you to enter stasis sometime tomorrow, but our situation has changed a bit and we need to get underway at full speed as quickly as possible.” Kali raised her hand. “Yes, Corporal?”

  She stood from the crate, head high, back straight, hands clasped behind her back. “Sir. May I ask what situation has changed?”

  Dunn’s raised eyebrows lowered and his grin twitched slightly. “Let’s just say that Pluto wants us there sooner rather than later. Anything else, Corporal?”

  “No, sir,” she said and sat down. Dickerson glanced at her, but she didn’t return the look.

  “That said,” Dunn continued, “you’ll have five hours to perform final checks on our z-g equipment, double-check armaments, and prepare the ship for a stasis run. After that, I’m buying dinner.” The marines laughed. “Lieutenant? You’re up.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Taulbee said. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I hate training missions. I loathe simulations. They prepare you to mindlessly follow the routines of the scenario rather than reacting to the real world. Colonel Heyes has given us a perfect opportunity to get away from the shipyards and deal with some real action. We have a real refueling stop. We have a real towing mission. And we have real danger out there in the Kuiper.

  “So those of you that thought this would be a pleasure cruise? You can stow that right now. Take this seriously. This is for real. We are traveling 19AU from home, the furthest S&R Black has ever traveled in one shot and the furthest any S&R company has explored. Count yourselves lucky. You’re making history this trip.” Taulbee paused as he scanned the marines’ faces. He seemed pleased. “Let’s start by getting Black ready for dreamtime. Understood?”

  “Aye, sir!” the marines yelled.

  “Good. Gunny?”

  Cartwright stepped forward, his strong jaw jutting out like a ship’s prow. “Squads! Form up. Kalimura? Your instructions are in your block.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she yelled.

  “Dismissed!” Cartwright bellowed.

  She stood and faced her fireteams while she accessed her block. As she expected, her squad had the wonderful duty of inspecting the stasis coffins, final inspection of the liquid delivery systems, and an O2 check. After all the inspections done by Portunes, Black, Nobel, and the shipyard technicians, tasking five marines to run another check was essentially busy work. But, as Gunny would no doubt repeat to her in his shouting cadence, it was part of the rules. Never rely upon outsiders, even AIs, to check your equipment and call it good. Before a mission, marines were responsible for vetting the very items that protected them in combat, in stasis, and in space.

  “Carbonaro and Dickerson. You have coffin duty. I want every unit inspected, diagnostics run, and a clean bill of health. If there’s an issue with any of them, I want to know immediately.” The two marines shared a disdainful glance, but said nothing. “Wendt? Elliott? You have the stasis liquid duty. Same orders. If you need me, I’ll be in engineering inspecting the O2 systems. Questions?” The marines said nothing. “It’s shit duty,” she said. The marines nodded, but still said nothing. “But it’s what we need to do. Understood?”

  “Aye, Corporal!”

  “Good. Let’s get to it. We have four hours.”

  *****

  They needn’t have bothered. As she expected, every piece of equipment passed inspection. While in the engineering bay, crawling around the pipes and O2 systems, Kali fought to take her time. The urge to simply call it good and walk away was balanced by the fear she’d miss something. If the O2 tanks failed, Black would have to keep the entire company in stasis while she sped to the nearest outpost. Once they were at the point of no return, Pluto would be the closest. But the marines would still be locked in stasis until the atmosphere was restored. She didn’t think the Pluto astronomers and astrophysicists had the experience or technical skills to even begin to repair the tanks. They could all die. And if she missed something, it would be by her hand.

  Rather than rushing through the process, she took her time, stress locking the muscles in her back and shoulders. It was like being in the acceleration couch all over again with the added tension of trying to find nano damage. Holding the diagnostic scanner in one hand, a flashlight in the other, she traced every centimeter of the pipes for cracks, fissures, stress fractures. She inspected the valves using the X-ray tool built into the scanner. When she finished, she did it again. And again.

  For two and a half hours, she sweated over every line, every possible diagnostic. Every ten minutes or so, one of her fireteams gave a status report over the comms. Each time, she ticked off another coffin or status liquid apparatus as checked. By the time she’d finished her third inspection of the valves, the fireteams had finished the coffins and were working together on the last of the stasis liquid checks. She wasn’t sure whether it was Dickerson or Carbonaro that made the decision to assist the other squad, but it told her what she wanted to know—they worked well together. Solidarity. Cooperation. Team. She just needed to learn how to lead them.

  “Corporal,” Gunny said into her block.

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Status?”

  She’d wiped a sheen of sweat from her dripping forehead with a smile. “Coffins have been inspected. No problems. They’re working on the last of the stasis feeds.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m on my fourth run of the O2 system, Gunny.”

  There had been a pause. “Fourth? Corporal, did you find any problems?”

  “No, Gunny.”

  “Good. Then get your ass back up here.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  She packed up the diagnostics kits, ran one last AI-assisted cycle, confirmed all was green, and left the engineering section. Nobel walked past her, a cup of coffee in his hands.

  “We going to survive the flight?” he asked.

  She smiled. “As long as Black doesn’t steer us into an asteroid, I think we’ll be fine, sir.”

  Nobel grimaced. “Don’t even joke about that.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Been a long day already.”

  He gestured to her filthy jumpsuit with his mug. “I suggest you get a change of clothes, Corporal. Either that, or you should join engineering full time. You look like a grease monkey.”

  “Right,” she said. “No offense, sir, but that’s not my idea of a career. I’m sure as hell glad it’s yours.”

  He grinned. “I like machines. I like the smell of Atmo-steel under pressure, the feel of plas-steel under my fingers, and the hum of grav-plates. I’d rather have all that than be out there,” he gestured to the hull, “floating in space and getting shot at.”

  Kali cocked her head slightly. “The Corporal has no
comment, sir.”

  Chuckling, Nobel raised his cup. “I’ve been shot three times, Corporal. Really don’t ever want to be shot again. But,” he said and pointed to the side arm on his hip, “if push comes to kill, I will.”

  “But you’re happy to stay in engineering.”

  “Aye,” he said. “The difference is you have upward mobility, if you want it. Me?” He shook his head. “Not so much. Besides, I like S&R Black. She’s my girl.”

  “Yes, sir, she is,” she said. “I knew that much the first time I saw you walking into the bay a month ago.”

  Nobel’s grin became wistful. “Easy to tell when a man’s in love.”

  “Aye, sir,” she said. “Gotta get to the cargo bay.”

  “Me too,” he said. “All hands on deck and all that. Sounds like Lieutenant Oakes has us cruising and Black’s in control. Nothing left to do but have a meal and jump in the coffins. Let’s go.”

  He turned and headed away. She followed his quick steps, wondering what Dunn was about to tell them.

  *****

  The briefing was short and much like the first one. The difference was Dunn no longer looked happy. He looked more grim. She couldn’t tell if it was another facade or if something had actually happened.

  “Okay, marines.” Dunn held his hands behind his back as if at parade rest. “Let’s get to it.” He looked over at Oakes. “What’s our status, Lieutenant?”

  “Black has us cruising. We are ready for full nuclear and ion acceleration, sir.”

  Dunn nodded. Oakes had probably already given him that status an hour ago. He faced Taulbee. “Everything green on your side, Mr. Taulbee?”

  “Aye, sir. Flight checks on the ‘52 and the Rays check out. We should be ready to go the moment we wake up.”

  “Gunny?”

  Cartwright cast a glance at Kali before locking eyes with Dunn. “My squads cleaned, reassembled, and loaded all the small arms. Black’s weapons are loaded and ready to rock as well, sir.”