Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1)

by Paul E. Cooley

  When Gunny finished his tirade, his face was red with exertion, spittle dangling at the edge of his lower lip. “Do you understand how you fucked up, Corporal?”

  “Aye, Gunny,” she said.

  “Good,” he bellowed. A silence fell over the cargo bay, punctuated only by the nearly inaudible drone of the grav-plates. Finally, the crimson flush dissolved from Gunny’s face. “That said, you did a great job, Corporal.”

  A wave of confusion filled her. “Gunny?”

  “You heard me.” She swore she saw a grin lurking just beneath his stoic countenance. “You kept a cool head, rallied your squad, and saved a marine’s life. It shouldn’t have come to that, but it did.”

  “Thank you, Gunny.”

  He pointed a long, gnarled index finger at her. “Don’t let it happen again, Corporal. Your marines, no matter how gifted and skilled they may be, are fucking idiots. You make sure they’re tethered next time.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Dismissed, Corporal.”

  That was an hour ago. Gunny’s squad had space-walked to the station and handled the external shutoff valves as well as putting the panels back in place. She felt embarrassed her squad hadn’t been able to finish the operation.

  She sat in the galley with a hot cup of coffee rolling between her hands. Embarrassment isn’t the word. Humiliation is, she thought. But at least she showed what she could do. Finally. She might not have z-g combat down, but z-g search-and-rescue maneuvers? All aces there.

  Her arm hurt a bit from the impact with Wendt. The bio-nannies were no doubt working on the bruise, and in an hour or two, she wouldn’t feel it anymore because it would be gone. Wendt was going to be down for at least a day. The auto-doc suggested no z-g exertions or gravity PT for three days. That meant she couldn’t make the bastard push the floor for a few hours. At least not until he healed up. Then his ass belonged to her.

  “Fucking tethers,” she mumbled.

  “Yup,” a voice said behind her. She nearly spilled her coffee in surprise. LCpl Elliott walked to the beverage machine. “Fucking tethers. We all should have been wearing them.” At first, she thought he was mocking her, and then she saw the sweat on his face and his exhausted expression. He put a mag-mug below the dispenser, hit a few buttons, and waited while the drink steamed. Wiping a sleeve of his jumpsuit across his brow, he looked back at her with an embarrassed expression. “Not your fault, Corporal. We know better.”

  “What happened to you?”

  He grinned. “Gunny had some chores for Dickerson, Carbonaro, and me. Wendt’s lucky he has a concussion.”

  Something burned in her stomach. If Gunny had disciplined her squad before she could… “Dammit,” she said.

  Elliott picked up the brewed drink, took a test sip, nodded, and sat down across from her. “You know, we haven’t really talked.”

  “Are we going to do that now, marine?”

  He shrugged. “Up to you, Corporal. Look, I don’t think we’ve given you a fair shake. I want to apologize for that.”

  The anger dulled at once. He wasn’t mocking her. His body language told her he was sincere, or at least acting like it. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. “What do you mean, Elliott?”

  “Well,” he said and sipped his coffee, “you have four lance corporals in your squad. Two of whom have been in the shit repeatedly, and another two that have been in at least one firefight and rescue mission. We know better.”

  “Know better?”

  He nodded. “We know z-g maneuvers. We know tethers. We know mag-procedures.” He rolled the mug between his palms. “We know this shit, Corporal. We just get stupid when we don’t like our leaders.”

  Kali glared at him. “That’s unacceptable, marine.” She pointed a long index finger at him. “You do your fucking job, or get the hell out. That’s the deal. That’s the Corps.”

  “Aye,” he said with a sad smile. “It is. And we fucked up.” He rapped the table with a knuckle. “It won’t happen again, Corporal.” He stood from the table and took another draught from his mug. “If I may, Corporal, I’d like to get a change of clothes and go smack Wendt.”

  She said nothing, but nodded. Elliott bowed his head once and left the galley. Kali watched him leave the room and noticed the back of his jumpsuit was covered in sweat stains. She downed the last of her coffee, cleaned the mug, and put it in the recycler. Gunny probably didn’t want to see her. Gunny probably wouldn’t appreciate her trying to chew his ass for disciplining her people, but that’s the way it was. She had to make sure he kept his hands off her squad. That was her job. His job was to tell her what her job was.

  Growling and pissed off, she left the galley and headed to the cargo bay. She hugged the bulkhead as three marines from Gunny’s squad walked by. They had all sweated through their jumpsuits and looking like they needed water and a nap. What the hell is going on?

  Dickerson, Carbonaro, and Copenhaver were the last to walk from the cargo bay, the three of them in the same shape as the others. Dickerson grinned at her as they passed. “Howdy, Corporal.”

  “Hold up, Dickerson,” she said. The three marines stopped in the hall. “You two,” she said pointing at Carbonaro and Copenhaver, “you’re dismissed.”

  “Aye, Corporal.” They headed through the bulkhead and disappeared.

  When she was sure they were gone, she looked back at Dickerson. The tall marine stood at parade rest, hands behind his back. “What’s going on?” she asked him.

  “Nothing, Corporal. Just finishing up a little PT and chore duty.”

  “Given by whom?”

  Dickerson’s face changed from slight amusement to a thin line. “Gunny Cartwright, Corporal.”

  She ground her teeth. “On what grounds?”

  “Well,” he said, “on the grounds that we are ‘incompetent, lazy, and stupid and will probably die in a fucking airlock accident.’”

  “He disciplined both squads?”

  Dickerson nodded. “One fucks up, we all fuck up.” He shrugged. “Like boot, only worse.” The grin returned. “Gunny doesn’t like it when we get complacent. And considering we’re not in a deity-damned training dome, he’s right to.” He brushed a bead of sweat from his cheek. “Just wait until Wendt can do PT.”

  She sneered. “Yeah, you just wait. I’ll have him pushing the floor until his arms collapse.”

  “Yup,” Dickerson said, “I figured as much. And when you’re done with him, Gunny will more than likely take a shot too.”

  “No he won’t,” Kali said. “He’s my problem. He fucked up on my mission. His ass is mine.”

  The grin on Dickerson’s face turned into a real smile. “Corporal? You might make a good Gunny someday.”

  She continued her glare. “Dismissed, Dickerson.”

  “Aye,” he said and continued walking down the hall.

  Kali waited while her heartbeat slowed. She had been so furious, adrenaline had dumped into her system and now she was ready for a battle. If she met Gunny in this state, she might say something she’d regret. She took a deep breath and let it out in one long stream.

  Gunny appeared at the cargo bay entrance, his jaw set in annoyance and anger. His eyes found hers and he quickened his pace. “Corporal?”

  “Gunny,” she said. “You—”

  He held up a hand. She stopped talking and stood at parade rest. “Corporal. You have a question for me?”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “You want to know why I disciplined your squad without you.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  He leaned forward, his height and bulk towering over her. “Because they were mine before they were yours,” he growled. “You have the experienced rejects, I have the greenhorns. But they all need to learn. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I run the Allah-damned marines, including you. And Taulbee runs me. If your squad fucks up, then they’re your problem. But everyone is getting too soft. Too many months at the shipyards in training domes and all that fake
crap.

  “We’re in space now, Corporal. A member of our company nearly died today because he wasn’t paying attention. And I’m not going to have one of these morons die because of that.” He leaned back a little, but his jaw was still as stone. “Fucks up my record.” She tried not to laugh, but couldn’t hide the smile. “Have I explained myself?”

  “Aye, Gunny. I know it’s your prerogative—”

  “Goddamned right it is,” he said. “And next time, when I’m not so pissed off, I’ll make sure you get the duty. And when Wendt gets out of bed,” Gunny cracked his knuckles, “I’ll supervise your choice of punishment for the marine.”

  Silence descended in the hallway. Sounds of mag-mugs shuffling in the galley bounced and echoed off the bulkheads. Unintelligible fragments of quiet conversations leaked out as well.

  “Aye, Gunny,” she finally said.

  “Aye, indeed, Corporal.” He nodded at her. “Now that we’re through with that shit, I want a report on your mission in one hour. The Lieutenant wants to know what happened from your point of view, as do I.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Good,” he said. “Get to it. Dismissed.”

  Kali turned smartly and headed to the galley. If she was going to write a report, she needed more coffee. A small grin touched her lips. She might pass z-g combat training after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The bridge was quiet. Oakes was on break and Nobel was down in engineering performing his manual diagnostic checks. Black had been her usually non-conversant self. Unless Dunn asked for her help, she more or less ignored him. With a block connection directly to the holo-display, there was little reason for Dunn to talk to her, much less connect with her.

  The display showed the orders from Heyes side by side with the communication from the Trio. He’d been engrossed in the new blueprints until they started the refuel operation. Then he’d been watching one of his marines almost die and a newly minted corporal, who had no combat experience, save him. Taulbee had already reported on the incident and now they awaited Kalimura’s personal report. He’d watched the recordings and seriously doubted she’d add any useful information. What happened, happened. It was Wendt’s fault, not hers, but she still bore the responsibility for the incident. That’s the way command worked. Even for NCOs.

  NCOs were responsible for their people and for following orders. So are commissioned officers, he thought to himself. And that was the problem.

  He wasn’t sure what Colonel Heyes and the Sol Federation Government expected to glean from the derelict ship. Once they boarded her, siphoned off every ship’s log, the AI recordings, and evidence of what had happened to her, SF Gov might decide to put together another expedition.

  Yeah, right, he said to himself.

  The idea there would ever be another Mira was laughable. SF Gov would continue sending nano-probes, continue scouring the relatively nearby systems for large caches of resources. There was even talk of putting together AI ships to automate mining and mineral resource acquisition. Unsurprisingly, Trans Orbital was leading the charge in those technologies. In time, humans would only be good for wasting space and consumption. The AIs would rule everything.

  Which was another reason the Trio’s message continued to make him squirm with chills. They had given him a warning, something Heyes hadn’t done. And those words “extra-solar material” kept echoing in his mind. Perhaps the AIs were merely being cautious. Or maybe they’d run the simulations on what would happen to humanity if Mira’s reappearance was made public.

  But he didn’t report to them. They might run Trident Station and the Neptune Shipyards for all practical purposes, but they didn’t make decisions for the Corps. And that included S&R Black.

  At the same time, he wasn’t sending marines into the derelict without a word of caution and plenty of weapons. Considering Mira’s size, it would take quite some time to explore the entire ship, the kind of time they didn’t have if the newest projections were to be believed. They’d have to tow her at least 1/8 AU before escaping the hazardous area.

  That in itself led to other issues. After speaking with Black, he’d found the best areas to apply the towing harness, assuming enough remained of the ship to survive the operation. Once they reached her and performed an inspection, he’d have enough data to make that call. If she couldn’t be safely towed, then the marines would have to double-time their exploration of the ship and focus on retrieving data from the bridge, as well as looking for survivors rather than checking Mira for clues.

  “Excuse me, Captain?” Taulbee asked. “You asked for me?”

  Dunn spun the command chair around and faced his first officer. “Yes, James. Take a seat. Oakes won’t mind.”

  “Aye, sir,” Taulbee said. He spun the pilot chair so it faced Dunn’s. “The assault teams are readying us for flight. I assume you talked to that Nobilis guy over on Pluto Station?”

  Dunn smiled. “You could say that. He was somewhat despondent over how we managed to cock up the refueling. Something about how ‘xenon is a precious resource out here.’ I agreed with him, apologized, and promised it wouldn’t happen on the return voyage.”

  Taulbee laughed. “Damned civvies. Should be happy they have any visitors at all.”

  Dunn shrugged. “I get the idea they’re quite happy out here. Bunch of astro-heads looking for the next system we won’t travel to.”

  “True,” the Lieutenant said. “But it won’t always be like that.”

  “We’ll see. Regardless, we have some thinking to do.”

  “I’m all ears, sir.”

  “Good. So pay attention.”

  With the aid of one of the holo-displays, he showed Taulbee the various routes to Mira and detailed the plan to tow before exploring her. The Lieutenant was silent, and then asked a slew of questions regarding the approaches as well as the plan for the tow. When he was finished, he broke eye contact with the display and instead looked out at Pluto. Dunn imagined Taulbee felt the same way about the dwarf-planet as he did.

  Dunn waited patiently as he finished his umpteenth mag-mug of coffee. Sooner or later, he’d have to visit the head and drain his bladder of untold liters of the stuff. He readjusted himself in his seat, mindful of the pressure there. If Taulbee took too long to make his thoughts known, Dunn would be squirming like a little kid.

  Finally, Taulbee turned back to face the captain. “I agree. We need to tow her before we perform a full exploration. But might I suggest something, sir?”

  “Of course, James.”

  “Well, sir, while we inspect the superstructure to ensure she’s able to survive the journey, it might make sense to send at least one squad to determine if the bridge is accessible. That way we might be able to complete at least one part of the mission before Mira gets hit by something. And if we can’t tow her after all, we’ll already be in good shape and can abandon her to her fate.”

  “Or destroy her with TAC missiles.”

  “Or that, sir,” Taulbee said. “My point is—”

  “I understand your point,” Dunn cut him off. “Suggestion noted. And when it comes time, we might very well do that. I’d like you to start going over the blueprints with Gunny to find the best possible path. Of course, you’ll have to review that plan based on what we find upon reaching her.”

  “Aye, sir,” Taulbee said.

  Dunn checked the block’s chronometer. “You can start making those plans once we’re underway. I want to brief the assault teams after chow. Let Gunny know.”

  “Will do, sir,” Taulbee said.

  “Thank you, James. Dismissed.”

  The Lieutenant saluted. Dunn returned it with a smile and watched him go. Neither Nobel nor Oakes had returned. Dunn stared out at Pluto again, wondering if he was the loneliest man in the solar system.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Before chow, they’d performed another round of diagnostics, combining manual inspections along with Black’s systems. Besides a small fracture in
the manual refueling skid that was quickly repaired with Atmo-steel patches, and a relatively inconsequential radiation leak from one of the port engineering shields, S&R Black was in excellent shape. After they stabilized Mira, Nobel could focus on repairing the shield. In short, the journey from Neptune and the refueling operation hadn’t created any new stress fractures or equipment degradation. They were a go for departure from Pluto and a trip to the far reaches of the Kuiper Belt.

  As if heading into territory no human had traveled in decades wasn’t exciting, or terrifying, enough, Dunn held a briefing after the meal. And that’s when he finally told the company what they were really doing out here in Sol’s backwaters.

  “This is not a training mission,” the Captain had said. “This is an S&R mission. A ship recently appeared in the outer Kuiper Belt. It’s on a possible collision trajectory with Pluto as well as with the many KBOs orbiting the belt.”

  The room had gone silent. None of the marines even moved. Dickerson felt as though everyone in the room hung on the next words. Dunn paused a moment before bringing a large holo-display to life.

  The picture that appeared on the screen was of a ship whose design Dickerson didn’t immediately recognize. Instead of the tapered nose of an atmospheric capable craft, its bow was rectangular. The mid-ship was even larger, the bow stacked atop it. It started to look familiar to him. He narrowed his eyes and then his mouth opened. “That’s the Mira.”

  The marines in the silent room all turned to him. Gunny glared, but Dunn had a satisfied grin on his face. “Say that again, Dickerson?”

  Dickerson blushed. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”