Have You Read the Manual

by Dale Sale

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright 2020 Dale Sale Books

  DaleSaleBooks.com

  Author@dalesalebooks.com

  OTHER WORKS BY DALE SALE

  Corvus Ascending

  Corvus Sirocco

  Corvus Defends (coming soon)

  Have You Read the Manual?

  Dale Sale

  BOSUN CHIEF WARRANT Officer 4 Guster Johansson banked the ancient Anvil class assault dropship as he began to deorbit towards the Ix system moon Kragus. He had volunteered to ferry the old ship to the Operations Base outside the capitol. Gus wasn’t prone to volunteer, but this gave him a chance to stretch his legs dirtside away from his billet on the planetary assault ship (LHA16) Sabre.

  He let his mind wander as the ship’s Constructed Intelligence (CI) did the work. He was just babysitting anyway; the ship was perfectly capable of flying itself, but regulations required human backup.

  Gus rubbed the armrest of the command chair and thought, What a great way to spend a day. I love easy gigs, minimal paperwork, no brass around, and clear blue sky. It’s a real shame to waste good hardware, though. Those backwater knuckle draggers won’t take proper care of you, old girl.

  Kragus’ current government was having trouble holding power. The dropship was slated for the local peacekeepers.

  “Ship, do you have a preferred name?” Gus got along better with machines than people.

  The ship responded in a soft feminine voice, “My designation is Alpha Delta 367.”

  “That’s not a proper name!” Gus answered. “Anvil Class, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, an Anvil Class Assault Dropship produced by Damen MilSup Inc. Fleet Supply Code 1905-62-595-7012.”

  The ship’s voice reminded him of a cute schoolteacher he dated once, named Annie, but that one had a temper, he recalled.

  “Well, I’m gonna call you Annie D, if that’s OK with you?”

  “That will be acceptable Bosun,” Gus swore he heard a little pride in the ship’s response.

  ***

  “How much lonnggerrr?” 14-year-old Sara moaned as she stared out at the dusty landscape of Kragus.

  Her mother couldn’t really blame her for whining. The armored Command Car was hot and stuffy. The “road” they were traveling was just slightly better than the rocky view outside. Governance Marine Reserve Major Gale Webster, wife of the Kragus Ambassador, knew that her daughter hadn’t been thrilled to go on this PR trip in the first place. Aircraft trouble at the last village had them now bouncing along in a hastily assembled convoy and trying to keep to schedule.

  Second Lieutenant Fred Hanlon, Gale’s Public Relations Officer on this trip, called back from the front passenger seat. “A few more hours, Miss. I’ll see if I can adjust the environmentals.”

  “Thanks, not everyone in this car is a Marine. Even if I am dressed like one.” The last was a direct jab at her mother.

  Gale muttered to herself, You should be glad I packed some BDUs kid, it’s much better than traveling in skirts and heels.

  Marine Gunner Nan Stanski teased Sara from the driver’s seat. “Looks good on you, kid. Basic Training will be breeze after this trip. We start weapon drills at next stop.” A stray blonde hair escaped from under her helmet as she weaved the heavy vehicle, dodging the largest holes. Nan was tall with broad shoulders and slim hips. She spoke Standard with the heavy accent of a Soviet spy from an Old Earth vid drama. Her pale blue eyes constantly scanned the road.

  Sara continued, “No way I’m going in the Marines! I didn’t want to come to Kragus. My parents made me leave my friends and fly off to this nowhere moon. The webnet here is horrible, I’m limited to 500 gigabit bandwidth!”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. What have I raised? She was desperately trying to avoid triggering another teenage tantrum, but her inner Marine was about at its limit.

  2nd Lieutenant Hanlon spoke into the radio, “APC-1 this is Delta Tango how are things looking up there?”

  The convoy consisted of a lead and trailing Armored Personnel Carrier piloted by a CI and manned by two weapon operators. Not what Hanlon would have wanted for his important passengers, but it was all he could get on short notice. He was much more comfortable behind his desk at HQ than in the belly of a command car. Hanlon’s specialty was Local Community Relations not combat patrols. Guess I shouldn’t complain, I was lucky to get someone like Stanski and her squad to escort us.

  Corporal Mara Zeta replied over the comm, “All good up here. What’s the Little Birdie say?” Little Birdie was the recon drone scouting ahead for them.

  A flat artificial voice said, “Little Birdie reporting in. We are approaching an area of concern. The road follows the valley floor and is flanked by high ridges. The terrain is favorable for opposing forces.”

  Gale Webster asked, “SHOULD we be concerned, Lieutenant?”

  Hanlon answered, “No, Ma’am, the drone is just responding to its programing. Commander Grey at Special Operations assured me this route was solid.”

  Major Webster drew the side arm she had insisted on and checked it before holstering, this time without fastening the retainer strap. “Hmm, right,” she said.

  Her daughter sighed, “Oh Mom, so dramatic!” and returned to staring out the window.

  Stanski keyed the comm link, “All right people, eyes open. I want weapons manned. APCs go to active scanning.” Both units radioed back affirmative.

  Sara was getting nervous, “Mom, is everything OK?”

  “Just normal precautions, honey.”

  Nan leaned toward the butter bar LT and said quietly, “Hanlon, this looks wrong.”

  Hanlon agreed, “Yeah, I’m gonna call it in.”

  Just as he reached for the comm, the lead APC was engulfed in a ball of flame and dirt. Another explosion behind them hit the tailing APC.

  Sara began screaming.

  “Hang on!” Nan flogged the engine and tried to push past the wreckage of the lead APC. They almost made it when the rear of the car slid out into the ditch. Nan slammed home the low range all-wheel engagements as the heavy vehicle strained to climb out. “Shit, it’s too soft, we’re stuck!”

  Hanlon screamed into the comm, “This is Delta Tango, units report status!”

  A coughing voice came over the comm, “Delta Tango, this is Spots and Durz in APC-2. CI offline, APC systems are dead, deploying now.”

  APC-1 didn’t respond at all, feed from the recon drone was gone too. Nan could hear muffled small arms fire outside the car. “You two Ok back there?” she called.

  Gale Webster was in full Marine mode. “We’re good Gunner, Sitrep Lieutenant?”

  Hanlon said, “APCs are down, recon down, two grunts digging in, we’re stuck but at least we still have comms, I think. Making a distress call now.”

  ***

  “Bosun,” the ship’s voice broke his reverie. “We are receiving an emergency transmission.”

  Gus jolted, “OK Annie, let’s hear it on speaker.”

  The voice of what could only a be panicking 2nd Lieutenant crackled over the comm, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, all stations, this is Delta Tango 01 High Priority requesting immediate extraction!”

  Gus calmly replied, “Station calling, this is Alpha Delta 367, what is your status?” He was already jamming his flight helmet into position and sliding on haptic feedback gloves. His scalp tickled as the interface calibration began. He checked for IFF transponders and saw he was the only thing flying in the area near the call.

  Gus asked, “Annie, where is the nearest rescue asset?”

  “A reaction force is scrambling from the capitol at this time.”

  Hmm, Gus wondered, why is a reaction force scrambling?

  The comms boomed, “Alpha Delta
367, this is Commander Harrison Grey of Kragus Special Operations, you are ordered to continue your approved flight path and not get involved.”

  Gus recognized the voice, Harrison “Hazy” Grey, how do I keep running into THIS asshole? Why is Special Operations involved, anyway?

  “Alpha Delta 367, we need help NOW!” He heard sustained weapons fire in the background. Lots of shouting. Gus swore under his breath and knew his day was fucked.

  “Better just call me Annie D kid, looks like we are gonna get personal, give me a sitrep.”

  An assertive woman’s voice came over the comm, “Annie D this is Delta Tango 01. We have highest priority asset on board. Taking steady small arms fire. Enemy is closing on our position.” Shouting orders over the comm, “Spots, lay down suppressing fire! Sending location and topo of area now.” There was a distinctive accent to her voice.

  Gus shook his head and asked, “Is that ‘Fancy’ Nancy Stanski I hear?”

  “Gusty Joe, is you? HA! My prayers are heard. Stop fucking around up there and help a gal out.”

  Grey sounded over the comm, “Johansson, this is a direct order, DO NOT engage! Return to your flight plan.”

  Gus ignored the comm, “Hang on, Gunner, the cavalry is on the way.”

  Nan called to the back of the car, “Ms. Webster, looks like I found us another ride.”

  “Gunner, for the rest of the day, I’m Major Webster,” she said while fastening the chin strap on her helmet.

  “Yes Ma’am” Good, I got the feeling we are going to need all the Marines we can get today. “I gotta check on my Marines.”

  Nan grabbed her rifle and hit the dirt running. There are many like it, but this one is mine, she repeated mentally. APC-1 was impaled by a steel beam the explosion had driven straight up into the body. The machine was pinned in place and blocking the road.

  Nan headed for the underbelly hatch. She could hear Spots and Durz behind her, returning fire in a slow, deliberate manner. Good job, boys, conserve that ammo.

  She reached the hatch and tapped. Nan grinned when she heard a weak reply and saw the center hatch bolt start to rotate. Smoke drifted out as it opened and she heard coughing inside. “Sing out!” All she could see was a waving hand.

  Nan took a deep breath and stuck her head inside. The emergency lighting flickered through the smoke. Patterson lay just inside the hatch, coughing. Zeta was out cold, still strapped in her weapons station, a bleeding gash on her nose. The CI was offline.

  Nan grabbed Patterson and hauled him out onto the ground, then went back inside to check on Zeta. “Hey Marine, you in there?” She confirmed a pulse and breathing. The Gunner grabbed the first aid kit from the bulkhead and broke a stim salt under the unconscious Marine’s nose and began to count to herself, 3, 2, 1.

  Zeta sputtered and thrashed, “Shit!!!”

  Nan joked, “Glad to see you could join the party, Corporal. Time to rise and shine. See if you can get the CI back online.”

  “Aye, Gunner,” the still stunned grunt replied.

  Nan’s head shot back out of the hatch to check on Patterson. “Can you fight?”

  Patterson shook his head and growled, “Fuck yes, you seen my spitter?” He used the nickname for the standard issue Spitzer caseless 10mm bullpup rifle.

  Stanski reached back inside and grabbed the rifle and a belt of magazines, “Spotz and Durz are already out there, follow the noise.” She pulled herself back inside. “OK Zeta, what you got?”

  The dazed Corporal blinked to clear her eyes and started flipping switches. A hum came out of the console and lights began to flash. “Starting a reboot now, Come on Baby, sing for me.”

  A static voice came out of a speaker, “G, G, G, Good Afternoon Corporal Zeta, I have sus, sus, sustained serious damage. Are we near a repair facility?”

  Zeta responded, “Sorry Baby we can’t fix you now, how are you feeling?”

  The CI continued, “My main drive is offline and will require major repair. It appears that I have been speared by an anti-tank device and am fixed in place. The auxiliary power unit is firing back up. I have lost connectivity with Fuzzy in APC-2.”

  Nan said, “Fuzzy took a hard hit Baby, he might be out of action.”

  Baby replied, “That makes me sad, Gunner.”

  Zeta jumped in to distract the CI, “Baby, do we have weapons?”

  “My turret gun will be operational in 45 seconds. I have a full magazine for it. The hedgehog mortar array is also operational, but target acquisition is OOC.”

  Nan said, “If we laser paint a target can you hit it?”

  The CI answered, “My optical sensors are out, I will need an external input.”

  Zeta offered, “We could hook a fiber optic cam and the boys outside can set it up.”

  Nan said, “OK, hand it over and I’ll run it out there. I need to check the situation outside.”

  Zeta unbelted from her station and grabbed case from a locker. “Just jam the cable into the rear port and set the camera up where I can get a good line of sight.”

  Nan threw the case and cable out of the belly hatch and crawled out. Her squad was still laying down controlled fire. She attached the cable and zig zagged to their positions.

  Nan reached the nearest man, “Patterson, set up this camera and get ready to paint targets. APC-1 is blind but still has weapons.”

  Patterson grinned, “Right Gunner, the enemy has good cover and firing positions. We can’t get at them and it’s pretty much a stand off right now. I think they are waiting for us to burn through our ammo.”

  Nan nodded and keyed the comm, “Zeta, don’t do anything until you get my signal. Let’s see if we can draw them out.”

  The corporal answered, “Copy that.”

  Nan slapped Patterson’s shoulder, “I gotta check on the passengers,” and ran to the command car.

  Hanlon eased out of the car and crouched behind it as Stanski ran up. “How are they holding up?” she asked.

  Hanlon said, “The Major is a rock, she’s keeping the kid calm for now.”

  Major Webster slid out of the car and joined the pair. “We lose anyone?”

  Nan answered, “The crew in APC-1 is shook up but OK. We got some weapons back online but targeting is down. Gonna use a laser to paint the targets. How’s your daughter?”

  Webster said, “She’s pretty pissed right now, it’s all I could do to keep her from joining you out here.”

  Nan laughed, “Ha, I told you, she is natural Marine!”

  Sara shouted from inside the car, “I CAN hear you, you know!”

  ***

  Gus checked the displays to see what he had on board to work with and swore at himself for not knowing before he launched. No ammo for the cannon, no missiles, one round of chafe and flares, two cross-country cycles, and an assault buggy in the transport bay on a skid.

  Don’t know how any of that’s gonna help. Wait, Eureka! Four old Mark 2 Guardian Angel drones in the wing pods. Too bad that model was one of the worst to take into a hot LZ, they were notorious for comm glitches and easy targets for Anti-Aircraft. Fight the weapons you got, Gusty, not the ones you want. Hope those ground pounders haven’t used up all their lives, they’re gonna need um today.