Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1)

by Paul E. Cooley

  The last six targets were concentrated in an area where the stern and mid-ships met. The marines had to place their thrusters in an arc roughly 75 meters in diameter. At least they could use two marines for this duty instead of just one. That also meant he could implement the buddy system, which if they had enough marines, he would have insisted upon. Damn SFMC for not giving Dunn more bodies. Now was the time they could really use some more marines.

  Once past the burst plating seams, the journey went quickly. He was able to goose the speed to 3 m/s without fearing he’d run into something. The strong lights penetrated the darkness ahead for at least ten meters or so. Beyond that, the illumination dissolved into a vanishing point of black.

  Kalimura checked in a moment later, warning him of weakened plate layers or some such. He didn’t have time to think over the details of what she said. He could replay her comm when they halted. A few minutes later, he did just that.

  He swiveled in the command chair. The three marines stood at something akin to attention. “Up for a walk, Murdock?”

  The marine nodded, paused a moment, and then said in a rushed voice, “Aye, Gunny. Would love to.”

  “Niro? You’re going, too. The Corporal said Dickerson came across some weakened hull plates. It’s very likely we’ll have the same situation here. So what I want you to do is walk slowly and don’t put too much pressure on your feet. You may have magnetic boots, but don’t tromp around like you’re on solid ground. Understood?” The two marines responded in the affirmative. “Good. Your HUDs should have the targets. Start with the closest four.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Lyke. You got eyes on Copenhaver?”

  “Aye.”

  “What’s her status?”

  “She has one thruster down and is almost finished with the other.”

  “Good,” Gunny said and looked back at the two marines as they climbed from the skiff. “We’re going to go get Copenhaver. You two keep in sight of one another at all times. You each have a lifeline. If one of you falls through the plates, get that lifeline to the downed marine ASAP. We’ll be back in less than twenty minutes. Understood?”

  “Aye, Gunny,” the two men shouted.

  “If you have any questions, boys, now is the time to ask.” They said nothing. “I’m not fucking around here, kiddies. Ask now or suffer my boot in your ass later.”

  “No questions,” Murdock said.

  “No questions, Gunny,” Niro said in a choked voice.

  He nodded to them. “Good hunting.”

  As soon as they moved back from the skiff with their cargo in their hands, Gunny rotated the Ray and headed back. “Copenhaver,” he said, “we’re on our way.”

  “Aye, Gunny. Just finishing up.”

  “Any problems?”

  “No, Gunny,” she said. “It was easy.”

  He grinned beneath the helmet. He liked that marine. “Good. Be there in five.”

  Once they picked up Copenhaver, he began the return journey once again. Lyke kept him updated on the squad’s status. Everything normal, no problems. He allowed himself to relax. They only had two more thrusters to place and then they were done. In another thirty minutes, he wouldn’t have to worry about these kids getting cut to ribbons by falling through a plate or flying off the damned ship because of a magnetic failure.

  “Taulbee to Gunny.”

  “Gunny. Go.”

  “What’s your status?”

  Gunny was damned glad the Lieutenant hadn’t called him while they were moving through the obstacle course. “Sir, we have six thrusters down, two to go. I’m on my way to pick up the other team now.”

  “Good,” Taulbee said. “I’m doing another flyby. Any problems, shout out and I’ll be there in a few seconds.”

  “Aye, sir. Out.”

  The skiff continued in silence, the marines saying nothing to one another. He imagined Copenhaver was tired from two walks, although she’d never complain about it. Lyke was probably just as tired, but he hoped the kid was more alert than she would be. Grav-walking even short distances was tough for anyone. Especially when you had to keep your eyes glued to the deck looking for possible weak spots. What the hell happened to this ship anyway?

  When they reached Murdock and Niro, his fuel reserve was down to just a little over 1/4. The two marines stood outside the semi-circular ring they’d created with the thrusters. Only two more to go and they’d be finished.

  Gunny halted the skiff. “You men ready for the next two?”

  “Aye, Gunny,” Murdock said and immediately headed to the sled. Niro paused a moment before nodding his head and doing the same.

  “Gunny to Lieutenant Taulbee.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Sir, we’re down to our last two. Our fuel reserves are low, so after we finish, we’ll have to head back.”

  “Acknowledged. Keep me updated.”

  “Aye, sir. Lyke. I want you to act as spotter for these two. Walk out there with them and give any assistance they need.”

  “Aye,” the marine said and climbed from the skiff.

  “Copenhaver? You got lookout duty. I’ll keep an eye on the squad.”

  Gunny watched the three men grav-walk, his mind adding notes to his block about grav training. Lyke was clumsy, but competent. Murdock walked like a partially paralyzed duck, and Niro was barely able to keep one foot in front of the other. He bit his lip. Why didn’t he see this during training? Because you were too busy focusing on tactics rather than rudimentary skills. Yup. Sounded about right. If Taulbee saw this, he’d have Gunny’s ass in a sling and deservedly so.

  The marines retreated further and further into the darkness. He fought the urge to kick the skiff forward and follow them out to their targets so they’d have more light to work with. But while that would increase the safety margin a bit, it would also drain more fuel, and he desperately needed as much as he could save unless Taulbee was going to come down here and refuel him. And that process had its own risks.

  He tapped his fingers on the throttle, enjoying the tactile sensation. Out here in the black, immersed in silence, and surrounded by near instant death, touching, walking, and grabbing were the only ways to remind yourself you were still a functional human being.

  At the edge of his vision, the three marines seemed to break apart. He activated the holo-display and put the three camera feeds up on the screen. Lyke had halted so he could watch both marines simultaneously. Gunny smiled. If nothing else, the youngster had good instincts. His suit lights added to theirs for a few meters before they were too far away for it to matter.

  Niro’s feed jostled up and down and side to side as he awkwardly grav-walked. The man’s eyes were focused a half a meter ahead of his steps. Something appeared on the feed, glistening in the lights.

  “Niro, stop.” The feed seemed to hesitate in mid-step, and then stabilized. “Focus your lights on that spot in front of you.” Niro leaned over. “What the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know, Gunny. Looks like frozen liquid maybe?”

  Liquid? From what? “Are you sure it’s frozen?” Niro lifted his boot and hovered it over the material. “No. Niro, don’t!”

  The boot fell on the substance. Vapor immediately rose from the impact point. “Um, Gunny?” The camera view wavered. “Gunny? I can’t move my boot.”

  Gunny’s HUD flashed yellow. Niro’s suit had pulsed an integrity alert. “Lyke! Get to him. Now!” He rotated the skiff and pushed the throttle. Forty meters. Lyke’s camera feed bounced up and down as he walked as fast as his awkward steps allowed. The HUD went red. “Niro! Take your foot out of the boot. Now!”

  As the skiff ate meter after meter, Niro’s feed filled with vapor rising from his boot. “I can’t, Gunny! I’ll die!”

  “That shit is eating your Allah-damned boot! Take it the fuck off now!” He focused on his course. He’d have to halt on a dime to get the boy in the skiff before complete suit failure. If the marine removed the boot, the suit would at l
east clamp down around his ankle. He might lose the foot, but he’d live. If whatever that shit was dissolved the boot and hit his skin, the suit wouldn’t clamp. The vacuum and the deep cold would find their way inside, freezing him to death while sending all of his O2 into space.

  Niro bent down further, his hands pulling at the release. “I can’t! It won’t—” A blood-curdling scream shot through the comms and then went silent. Ten meters. Five meters. Gunny hit the thrusters and brought the skiff to a nearly perfect halt beside the trapped marine.

  “Copenhaver! Shoot the line, now!”

  She was ready. She aimed the crossbow-like device and pulled the trigger. Gas jetted from the round as it traveled the short distance between the skiff and Niro’s flailing body. The magnetic round hit Niro in the chest. He buckled over from the impact, but no sound came through the comms. His suit had vented its atmosphere.

  “Taulbee! Need an extraction! Right fucking now!”

  “On it,” Taulbee said.

  Lyke was two meters away from Niro. If he got there quickly enough, he could de-mag the boots and they could reel the marine in without tearing his suit. Unfortunately, there was no time. “Retract the fucking line!” he yelled at Copenhaver.

  She hit the button on the line-gun and the micro-engine began to pull. Niro’s flailing had ceased, leaving his arms dangling at an awkward angle. The line tightened, and Gunny watched in horror as Niro was pulled toward the skiff, his suit straining from the tension. A last whiff of atmosphere puffed from the suit—it was ripping.

  Gunny demagnetized his boots and leaped for the line. Adrenaline running through his veins, he didn’t have time to think what would happen if he missed it. But his left gloved hand corralled it. The extra tension on the line pulled the suit open. Cursing, Gunny pulled himself with a heave and floated down the line to the marine at a fast clip. Arms spread wide, he impacted Niro around the waist. The suit practically fell apart in his hands. Ignoring it, he reached down and hit the manual releases for the left mag-boot which was still attached to the hull. The right mag-boot was dissolving before his eyes, droplets of blood floating into space like blobs of liquid mercury before freezing into floating crimson crystals.

  Multiple strong lights shined down on the hull, blasting his vision for an instant before his visor compensated.

  “Gunny! Toss him up!” Taulbee yelled through the comms.

  Mind on auto-pilot, his body knew exactly what to do. He pulled a vibro-knife from his belt and slashed through the suit at the calf. The blade ripped apart the suit’s metal composite and melted through flesh and bone like a hot knife through ice. The remains of Niro’s foot and boot rose into space, hit the moving hull, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Gunny held the marine by the waist, and pumped his legs, letting go just as he reached the inertia point. Niro’s body leaped away from his into space. A thick net of metal and carbon fiber wrapped around the lifeless body and then shut like a vice. Oxygen flooded into the closed net from the ‘52. The line pulled up just in time to keep the deck from hitting the body as it continued its spin.

  Taulbee’s vehicle rushed away from Mira as it headed at a dizzying speed back to S&R Black. Still standing on the hull, he looked down at where the boy had been. A dark mess of goo glistened on the hull, still steaming from its meal. The vapor wasn’t even freezing.

  He brought up Niro’s HUD status. No life signs. “Fuck!” he screamed.

  “Gunny,” the Captain said over the comms, “what the hell happened?”

  He felt drained. The adrenaline rush in his system was ebbing, but his breathing was still fast and shallow. He felt like he’d run a marathon and prayed to the void that the bio-nannies would get his system back under control.

  “Niro stepped in something on the hull. Ate through his boot, sir.”

  Pause. “Gunny. Place those last thrusters and get the hell out of there.”

  “Aye, sir,” he said. He knew his voice had come out in a rushed pant, but didn’t care about that now. He still had a job to do. He turned and stared at the distant pinpoints of light where Murdock waited with his thruster. And then he finally realized Lyke was standing next to him.

  “Copenhaver! Get your ass to the controls. You bring that skiff here right fucking now.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Lyke. The moment she gets here, you take that line-gun and get ready. I’ll set Niro’s thruster.”

  “Aye, Gunny.”

  “Murdock. Place your goddamned thruster. If you see anything on the deck, and I mean anything, you walk around it. I don’t care if it’s a fucking pinecone, a piece of debris, or a fucking unicorn. You understand me?”

  Murdock’s voice replied in a shaky whisper. “Aye.”

  He looked down at the hull again. Niro’s thruster had auto-attached to the deck plate when he’d dropped it. At least they didn’t have to worry about that damned thing banging off the hull and smashing into someone’s helmet. Small favors, he thought. Gunny picked up the thruster, changed his HUD to illuminate the target, and grav-walked as fast as he could. Niro was most likely dead. And if not, hypoxia, frostbite, and the damage to his dermis would likely finish him off soon. Goddamn you, Mira. Goddamn you.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Black opened the cargo bay long before he reached it. According to the status captured from Niro’s block, the marine had been clinically dead for three minutes. Too long, he thought. Too goddamned long.

  He brought the vehicle in at the suicidal speed of 15m/s. S&R Black quickly filled his vision, the well-lit cargo bay an inviting oasis. Collision alarms rang and his HUD flashed crimson. Black was saying something through the comms, but he ignored it. He focused on the rectangle of light.

  The ‘52 was less than ten meters away when he slammed the throttle and blew a massive cloud of gas from the bow. The vehicle shuddered with the change in velocity. He’d slowed the craft to 1m/s and entered the cargo bay. The landing nets caught the vehicle and distributed the kinetic energy across millions of springy carbon filaments. He quickly rammed the magnetics into action and the vehicle hit the deck.

  He leaped out of the cockpit just as the grav-plates activated. The cargo bay doors closed and atmosphere flowed through the vents. Captain Dunn and LCpl Wendt ran into the bay with a stretcher. Taulbee moved to the ‘52’s capture bay and sent a block command.

  A hatch slid open on the SV-52’s starboard side. Just as Dunn and Wendt reached him, he pulled the young marine from the bay with a grunt of effort and placed him on the stretcher.

  Wendt and Dunn, one on each side of the stretcher, ran to the auto-doc at the cargo bay’s rear. Taulbee ran after them, his movements slow and awkward in the heavy suit. He reached the pair just as they loaded Niro’s freezing body into the machine. The door slid closed and a holo display lit up.

  Taulbee reached up and removed his helmet. Oxygen jetted out of the suit and then stopped. He ran metallic gloved fingers through his short hair and stared into the display.

  The auto-doc was standard issue on any SFMC ship. S&R Black had two of them. The more capable model was in the actual infirmary, where Wendt should have still been in bed. The cargo bay was for trauma only. Taulbee thought Niro’s condition certainly qualified.

  The display lit up with a series of statuses. Oxygen saturation: zero. Heartbeat: 0bpm. Blood pressure: 0/0. Brain activity: unresponsive. Bio-nannies: unresponsive.

  “Goddammit,” Taulbee said. “Even his nannies are dead.”

  Dunn looked at him. “Give the doc a chance,” the captain said.

  Through the transparent shield, the trio watched as a series of syringes pushed through the remains of Niro’s suit. The injections shot a dense load of bio-nannies into his veins as well as support proteins, adrenaline, and fresh blood. A pair of metal cylinders lowered and tightened against his temples and a robotic arm drifted down with a glowing cap. Steam and smoke rose as the cap contacted the ruined flesh of the stump.

  “How long
was he exposed to the vacuum?” Dunn asked.

  Taulbee shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I think less than a minute. Maybe a bit longer.”

  “Christ,” Wendt said. “If I hadn’t been in fucking sick bay, I could have—”

  “Shut it,” Dunn said. “What’s done is done. Lieutenant?”

  Taulbee shifted his gaze from the body and back to Dunn. “Sir?”

  “You have eight marines still on Mira. I want them back here. Pronto.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Get moving.”

  Taulbee didn’t respond. He put his helmet back on and activated the comms. “Black? Everything good with the ‘52?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant. I took the liberty of replacing the net as well as refueling the vehicle.”

  He smiled grimly. “Thank you, Black.”

  “My pleasure, Lieutenant.”

  He climbed back into the SV-52, shut the cockpit, and waited. Dunn and Wendt left the cargo bay, retreating behind the pressure doors. Niro, if he was even still alive, would be safe in the auto-doc.

  “We are ready to open the cargo bay doors, Lieutenant,” Black said.

  “Good. Let’s do it.”

  The vehicle shuddered as the atmosphere jetted through the sliding doors. The grav-plates turned off and the ‘52 seemed to lift slightly from the deck. He backed out of the bay using his rear cameras. Once safely away from S&R Black, he quickly rotated until the vehicle pointed back at Mira. The giant ship continued its tumble through space, the massive metal beast pinwheeling through the darkness. He hit the throttle and quickly picked up speed.

  “Gunny, it’s Taulbee.”

  “Sir.” Gunny’s voice held an air of stress he hadn’t heard since Mars.

  “I’m on my way back. What’s your status?”

  “Not good, sir. We have the other thrusters in place, but the Ray doesn’t have enough fuel to make it back to Black. I want to get my marines out of here as quickly as possible.”

  Taulbee nodded to himself. “I’ll tow you in,” he said. “Gunny? Don’t beat yourself up about Niro.”