She ambled down the ladder and met the platform. Lifting the toes on her left foot, the boot canceled the magnetic field, allowing her foot to go into free fall. Using her arms on the ladder, she forced the foot down onto the platform. The magnetics re-engaged. She loosed a deep breath and did the same with her other foot. Once both boots were magnetized and she was firmly attached to the platform, she turned and walked to the gantry at the platform’s end.
“Squad,” she said into her mic, “form up behind me.”
“Acknowledged,” the four marines said.
She continued walking to the end, checking her HUD for the tiny rearview in the lower left of her vision. Dickerson and the others were coming down the ladder one at a time. The form-fitting helmets hid the marines’ faces behind thick visors, but as Dickerson was the tallest member of her squad, he was easily discernible. He walked until he was a meter behind her, and then the other three marines followed suit.
Kali reached the refuel gantry and stood in the cradle. Her squad had the glamorous duty of hooking up the lines to transfer enough xenon gas from the observatory to the ship. If S&R Black was refueling at a more modern station, the marines wouldn’t even have to leave the ship. But the fact was the observatory had never been designed to refuel ships on a regular basis. Kali wasn’t even certain this would work. The observatory station head, some large astronomer with the unlikely name of Nobilis Reed, wasn’t certain the refueling equipment would even function.
Once all the marines were on the platform, Carbonaro and Dickerson took the left side while Wendt and Elliott took the right. “Okay, squad,” she said, “let’s do this. You have your assignments. Let’s try and make this look professional so Gunny doesn’t airlock us in our pajamas later.”
There was laughter over the comms and it made her smile. She’d no doubt Gunny and the LT were listening, but it didn’t matter. For now, she had to keep the situation light and her people comfortable. Each fireteam had to unspool the lines and then jet-walk them to the outlets on the observatory. Ten meters of empty space separated S&R Black from the station. Kali was surprised Oakes had been able to cut it that close. During the briefing, the Captain had given twenty meters as the expected distance. She’d seen Oakes smirk at that, but thought he was being arrogant. Now, she understood.
After she enrolled in the Corps, her aptitude, fitness, and psychological tests proved she was more than capable of handling deep space missions. Because there were so few humans willing to give up their families, their native homes, all for a chance at a dismally low paycheck and the high possibility of death, she’d been fast tracked on a path for NCO. The two tours she’d spent on Titan Station assisting in ring security and rescue operations of ring-miners had more than prepped her for a career in search and rescue. She was promised that volunteering for S&R duties at Neptune would lead to a command career.
Titan had been an expensive, crowded, and depressing experience. While she was never alone during her two tours there, she had never felt more lonely. The civvies treated the Corps as an expensive necessity and more often than not went out of their way to vote against any tax increases to improve the Corps barracks and equipment. Marines were outcasts. Since they made no money for anyone, they were just seen as leeches. Until, of course, there was an emergency.
Whether it was a blown bulkhead or a disabled mining ship in the outer rings, the Corps scrambled and rescued hapless miners and station personnel. If they did their jobs and everyone lived, they were thanked for their service and then relegated back to being second-class citizens. If, deity-forbid, civvies died, they were blamed. And if marines died, it was just considered “the cost of doing business.” Kali’s morale had never been lower in her life than after two of her squad mates perished in a z-g fire while trying to rescue several trapped residents in one of the many towers. When the call was finally made to depressurize an entire tower floor to snuff out the blaze, their bodies rushed out into deep space never to be recovered. They died to protect others. And for that, they were given a station ceremony. And that was that.
The Corps kept a holo-board in their barracks listing all those who had died in service to the civvies on Titan Station. Before she finally headed to Neptune, the board’s tally was at fifty-one. Fifty-one marines had given their lives to an ungrateful, corporate-owned facility who treated them like indentured servants. And to a certain extent, that’s exactly what they were.
SF Gov was a little too cozy with Trans Orbital and Atmo. The government collected taxes from the monstrous corporations and in turn, considered the entities a matter of solar economic interest. Wherever there were TO or Atmo installations, you could find an SF Gov military outpost. Even as far away as Titan and other Saturnian moons.
Kali watched Dickerson grab one of the lines while Carbonaro took the wheel controls. Normally, S&R Black would dock with a refueling station and the gas transfer would be handled by Black and the station’s computer systems. The manual system had been put together more as an afterthought, which is why it was so damned clunky in design. Then again, she knew that if there were power problems, AI malfunction, or other computer-related issues, the manual system worked just fine.
Once Dickerson attached the line to himself, he turned off the magnetics and floated above the platform. His attitude thrusters fired and spun him in a rough semi-circle until he faced the observatory’s blemished cylinder. Another puff of vapor from the thrusters and Dickerson started moving toward the observatory. Carbonaro fed more line, keeping watch on her teammate while also studying the line diagnostics. On the opposite side of the platform, Wendt had already attached the line and was prepping to join Dickerson.
Dickerson held a hand out in front his chest, fully extended. Rather than use the thrust to slow his approach, he waited until the last second, gave the jets a tiny tap, and used his arm to cushion the collision with the observatory. His body didn’t jolt from the impact. It was impressive. Kali wasn’t even sure how he did it, but she sure as hell was going to ask him.
Instead of following Dickerson’s insane example, Wendt used his attitude thrusters to carefully glide and position the line over the hookups. Dickerson used one magnetic glove to slide the line into the fuel receptacle.
“Dickerson? Wendt? How we doing?”
“Fine, Corporal,” Dickerson said. “My line is attached. I have green lights.”
“Me too,” Wendt said. “All green, Corporal.”
“Carbonaro? Elliott?”
“Green on this end,” Carbonaro said.
“Good to go,” Elliott chimed in.
She pointed her eyes down at the manual controls. “Dickerson? Wendt? Give us some fuel.”
“Aye, aye.”
She watched as Dickerson and Wendt each threw a switch on the observatory hull. The control board lit up with pressure readings. Kali smiled. As she toggled each switch, she checked the gauges to ensure the manual system reported no faults. The last thing they needed was xenon gas escaping the lines and jetting into space. Besides wasting the precious fuel they needed for the towing operation, the gas could effectively blast one of her marines into the ship or throw them into a spin heading either deeper into the belt or toward the planet. None of those were situations she wanted to be in.
After she toggled the last switch, gas began flowing through the lines. “Gunny?”
“Yes, Corporal?”
“Refueling. ETA 20 minutes.”
“Acknowledged.”
Now all they could do was wait until the system was full. Kalimura fought the urge to walk to the edge of the platform and stare at Pluto. She could still see a portion of the dwarf-planet, the thousands of pockmark scars from meteorite impacts and blemished ice. It was beautiful. After spending so much time on Neptune, it was a nice change of scenery.
*****
“That is one big ass rock,” Dickerson said over the private comms to Carbonaro.
“No shit,” she said. He saw her head pop up to look directly at
him. “How would you like to fight on that thing?”
“No, thanks,” he said. “If I want to freeze my balls off, I’ll dangle them out of an airlock.”
She giggled. “That would be shame. I like to use those every now and then.”
“What do you think of the Corporal?”
There was silence for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d tweaked her with the mention of another woman or not. They were just fuck buddies after all, not in love. At least that’s what he thought.
When she finally spoke, there was a smile in her voice. “Not my type, Dickerson. I prefer women with bigger tits.”
He giggled uncomfortably. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not actually what I meant.”
“Oh? What did you mean?”
“Her being in charge of us.”
Carbonaro hissed into the mic, making him cringe. “She’s better. Stick up her ass on Neptune, and she still might get us all killed.” He could almost feel Carbonaro shrug. “I guess she’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Dickerson said. “She may not have been in any firefights, but she does have two commendations for search-and-rescue duties.”
“Really?” Carbonaro asked. “From where?”
“Titan station,” he said. “Sent a vid to a buddy of mine the other day wondering if he remembered her. Said she was a bit cold, but did her job well. Pulled a couple of civvies from a fire and saved a couple of miners.”
“Not bad,” Carbonaro said. “Guess maybe she won’t get us killed.”
He smiled. “Let’s hope not.”
“You going to ask her out on a date when this is over?” she said with a blatant teasing voice.
It didn’t matter that no one could see his face. It didn’t matter that he was hanging on the side of a piece of metal hundreds of klicks above Pluto. He blushed regardless of where he was and who could see him. “I— Uh—”
“Nut up, Dickerson,” Carbonaro said. “When we get back to Neptune, you should take her for a drink.”
“You—You think?”
“Might as well. You have to be bored with me by now.”
“Carb, why are you giving me shit?”
Carbonaro laughed. Her helmet jiggled slightly. “I’m surprised I can’t see your blush through your helmet.” She started laughing again.
“Dickerson, Wendt. Status?” Kalimura’s voice broke in.
“Aye,” Dickerson said. He looked over at the panel. All the lights were still green. “No problems here, Corporal.”
“None here either, Boss,” Wendt said holding a thumbs up.
“Good,” Kalimura said. “We should be finished in another five minutes. Once we confirm, I’ll want you two to disconnect one line at a time.”
“Aye, Corporal,” Dickerson said.
“Acknowledged,” Wendt said.
While they waited, he and Wendt told jokes to one another over the private comms. Dickerson kept finding his eyes drawn to the sight of Pluto below. He was viewing what few humans had ever seen with their own eyes. He asked his block for a star map and it overlaid his vision. As his focus wandered over the endless space, a label would pop up over a particular dot or slightly lit shape. The outer Kuiper Belt was filled with objects humankind had classified but never interacted with, much less landed on.
S&R Black would soon be out there among the strange debris that orbited a far-away star. They were actually going to tow one of those things back to Neptune like some kind of trophy. Well, he thought, could be worse. We could be trying to stuff it into the cargo bay.
“Okay, team,” Kalimura said. “Black says she’s full. Line teams, get ready to disconnect. Wheel teams, get ready to reel in your partners.”
Dickerson and the other marines acknowledged. He kept the public channel open. “Wendt. I’ll go first.”
“Acknowledged,” Wendt said.
With one foot and one glove magnetized firmly against the station’s hull, he shut off the gas switch on his side and popped the connector on the line. A tiny puff of gas floated out of the nozzle turning into a cloud of vapor that instantly dispersed into nothing.
With the line still in his free hand, Dickerson demagnetized his gloves and boots, and floated off the side of the hull. He attached the line to his suit and gave a thumbs up to Carbonaro. She began pulling him back, the slack completely disappearing from the line as it dragged him to the platform.
Dickerson flipped his HUD view so it showed the station behind him. “My turn,” Wendt said through the comms. Dickerson watched as the marine reached for the line.
“Hey, Wendt. Make sure you magnetize your—”
The line sprang free from the connector and a gout of xenon gas flushed into space. The force broke the magnetic seal formed by his glove to the hull. His helmet smashed into the observatory before Wendt spun away, his body silently cartwheeling into space.
“Wendt!” Dickerson yelled as he tried to untether his line.
“Dickerson, stay right where you are!” Kalimura yelled through the comms.
Half a second later, he saw her mag-walk incredibly fast to the other side of the platform. Once she dangled over the side, she pushed off into space. Dickerson switched his HUD to that of Black’s cameras on the port side.
Wendt tumbled through the vacuum below the platform, his suited body flying away at five meters per second. Kalimura’s dive had been timed perfectly. With her arms outstretched, she managed to close and lock them around Wendt’s left leg. Before she began to turn with his decreased momentum, a burst of gas from her attitude thrusters slowed the pair.
“Wendt,” she said over the comms, “still with me?”
“Still. Here.” His voice came in a panicked pant. “Think I have a concussion.”
“No doubt,” the Corporal said. “Elliott! Grab the emergency line. Get out here and help.”
“Aye,” he yelled into the comms.
Dickerson reached the platform just as Elliott finished attaching himself to the carbon fiber cable and jumped into space. He easily maneuvered himself to the pair. Wendt’s tumble had slowed, but the pair still summersaulted awkwardly. There was no way Kalimura could slow them with the thrusters while they twirled about.
When Elliott was a meter away from the pair, he gave his thrusters a minuscule push, and wrapped his arms around Wendt’s torso. “Carbonaro! Pull us in!” he yelled.
Once she’d secured Dickerson, she’d already headed to the emergency line spool, ready to reel them in. As he clamped down the fuel line to keep the free end from moving, Dickerson mag-walked as fast as he could to help Carbonaro. She had the controls and was bringing them in, but the line had too much slack. Dickerson held it between his gloves, gently guiding it into the wheel.
The three marines slowly approached the platform. As soon as he was able, Dickerson pulled them upward so they floated just above the Atmo-steel and brought them in. Wendt and Elliott gently landed on the steel platform. At the last second, Kalimura let go of Wendt and used a mag glove to hold onto the steel. Dickerson secured one foot, leaned down, took her hand, and pulled her up.
“Thanks,” she said to Dickerson. Elliott had managed to untangle himself and stand up, but Wendt was still in a crumpled heap on the platform. “Carbonaro. Wendt. Get him into the ship. Gunny? We have one casualty.”
“Copy, Corporal. We’re waiting at the airlock. Over.”
“Aye, Gunny. Dickerson and I will finish securing the station and the lines.”
“Corporal,” Gunny said, “the station has already cut off the master flow valve. You should only have to reel in the line. We can deal with the manual shutoff valve and the panel later.”
She turned her head to Dickerson. He couldn’t see her face through the shielded visor, but he had the feeling she was snarling inside the helmet. “Aye, Gunny. We’ll need to schedule another walk to take care of that.”
“Acknowledged, Corporal. Get your people inside ASAP.”
“Aye, Gunny.” She nodded at Dickerson
. “Secure your side. I’ll take over Elliott’s.”
“Aye,” Dickerson said. He watched Kalimura mag-walk in anger to the other side of the platform and the line wheel. He was able to finish stowing the line and locking everything up so they could retract the platform. When he looked over at Kalimura, she already had her side ready. How the hell did she do that so fast?
She stepped back from the assembly. “Black. Confirm secure.”
“Confirmed,” the AI said over the general comms. “We are ready to retract the platform as soon as you and Lance Corporal Dickerson are inside.”
“Copy that,” she said. She pointed at the ladder. “You first, Dickerson.”
He thought about protesting, but decided she’d kick his ass if he did. “Aye, Corporal.” He mag-walked to the ladder and climbed it, wondering where the hell she’d learned to do all that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sudden rush of gas had hit Wendt in the hip, knocking his head against the hull before flinging him into space. The auto-doc confirmed the diagnosis of concussion, and Wendt was confined to the infirmary with an order for rest. At least, that was, until she got to him.
To say her ass was raw from Gunny’s expletive-laden rant was putting it mildly. As soon as she’d stowed her suit, Gunny was standing before her, foot tapping on the steel floor. He’d taken her to the cargo bay, made sure the hatch was closed and that no other marines were in with them, and then let loose.
She’d taken her share of stern talks from NCOs regarding poor performance. Who hadn’t? Boot was all about fucking up, being punished to instill discipline so it didn’t happen again, and to keep both non-rates and rated marines on their toes. But this was different. Gunny accused her of putting a life in danger.
Instead of countering him, or interrupting him, she stood as stone-faced as possible, her eyes locked with his, as he ranted and railed. She knew this was unfair. Wendt was the problem. He hadn’t followed the most basic fucking procedure in the world. Hell, even Dickerson had done his right, although he hadn’t been very serious about it. As the vitriol washed over her, she fought the urge to smile. She’d saved Wendt’s life, although any of the other marines on the platform could easily have done it. If, that was, they’d thought to actually move. Yes, she’d saved Wendt’s life. And when he was better, she’d decide whether or not she was going to end it.
Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1) Page 15
