Have You Read the Manual

by Dale Sale

  Gus patted the fuselage and raised the beer in salute, “Annie, you are looking good again, Gusty Joe always keep his promises to the ladies,”

  Annie D replied through an external speaker, “Thanks Gus, I will fly with you anytime.”

  Gus paused, “World’s a funny place, maybe we will old girl.”

  CWO3 Marine Gunner Nan Stanski and 2nd Lieutenant Hanlon walked up into the wing’s shade.

  Stanski spoke in her thick accent first, hands on hips, looking at the ship, “Bosun I don’t know who is luckier son-of-bitch? You for pulling that off, or me, for watching you do it.”

  “Gunner, that wasn’t luck, that was skill,” Gus said. They all knew that was a lie. Gus tossed them each a can from an icy bucket.

  Hanlon popped his beer, “Rumor mill says you’re gonna get the Navy Cross. We just heard that not only did you save the Ambassador’s family, old man Limnos himself was in the enemy column that got toasted. I don’t get it Bosun, why did you do it? You were on a delivery run in an antiquated dropship. No weapons, no backup, superior foe. Why all the effort?”

  Gus patted the ship and said around a swallow, “Don’t pay him any attention, Annie D, obviously not superior to you.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” the ship replied.

  Nan broke in, “That’s just how Gus is wired, kid.”

  “Well, Butter Bar,” Gus waved the beer, “The manual says I shoulda just provided intel and vectored in the response force. Manuals are sometimes wrong.”

  “Johansson!” a bellow sounded over the tarmac as the trio turned. “What the Hell were you doing today?” Commander Harrison “Hazy” Grey was stalking toward them. Steam was practically blowing out of his ears. “You disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer.”

  Gus thought, Superior is once again debatable. When is this asshole gonna be out of my life?

  Gunner Stanski and 2nd Lt Hanlon moved slightly to the side.

  Grey said, “This is the last time you are going to fuck up my plans.”

  Gus thought, Somehow, I seriously doubt that. “Now Commander, I don’t see what you’re so steamed about? Didn’t everything work out for the best today?” Gus tried to soothe the situation.

  Gunner Stanski said, “Sir, if it wasn’t for Bosun Johansson, the Ambassador’s wife and child would have been taken hostage and my Marines slaughtered,” Unless that was your plan all along? I never trusted this weasel.

  “You stay out of this Stanski! This is between me and Johansson.” Grey began to circle the Warrant.

  “Commander, calm down, you’re gonna give yourself a stroke, by the way how’s your sister?” Gus asked.

  “Why, you dirty Bastard!” Grey lunged at Gus with a flailing right hook.

  Gus danced a quick sidestep, grabbed the wild punch, and pulled the enraged man off balance. Grey’s foot planted in the soap bucket and he pitched forward onto the pavement as the bucket poured over him.

  Gunner Stanski smiled, “Looks like you need to cool off Commander.”

  The 2nd Lt. giggled, barely holding himself together. He balanced between helping the humiliated Grey and laughing himself shitless.

  Gus threw Harrison a towel, “Well, Hazy, I’d love to stand around and chat, but I’ve got to get cleaned up. Nan and I got a personal invite from our new best friend the Ambassador for drinks at the Flag Quarters. See ya around the system.”

  A dripping Grey threatened as Gus turned away, “Laugh now asshole, but Orr Limnos knows who you are, and blames you for his father’s death. You are now his personal project.”

  Gus turned to Nan Stanski as the pair headed toward the hangar, “Hey Nan, maybe I should read the etiquette manual before I head over. What da ya think?”

  EXCERPT FROM CORVUS ASCENDING

  “THIS DAY IS totally fucked!” Chief Warrant Bosun Guster Johansson swore to himself as he put his Anvil class assault dropship into a steep dive.

  The controls were glitchy, and they bucked wildly when he hit the towering thunderhead over the extraction zone.

  “Warning, external environmental conditions are exceeding operational parameters. Initiating pilot restrictions,” a calm feminine voice sounded in his ear.

  Gus shouted, “Annie, override all operational restrictions. Command code Gusty Joe.”

  “Operational restrictions removed. Command code override logged.”

  A panicked voice sounded over the comms, “Joe, you coming? We are getting our ass handed to us down here! Too much lightening to move, pinned down. The whole landing is FUBAR.”

  Gus said, “Hang on, Marine! I’m dropping in hot. I’ll have you back to base in time for evening milk and cookies.”

  The storm had appeared out of nowhere just after the patrol dropped. The ship they landed in was out of commission from a direct lightning strike. “I want you moving when I hit the LZ. No time for souvenirs.”

  “Rodger that, just open the door and keep the engines running,” the comms rang out.

  Sweat poured off Gus’s forehead as he fought for control. His haptic feedback gloves were slipping despite a death grip on the controls. The forward view was fogging, and rain beat a furious tattoo against the glass. A silver Mjolnir medallion swung on a chain from a switch. Time slowed, and the medallion blurred. A nagging feeling grew between his shoulder blades. The old Bosun could barely see the landing zone and was relying on the heads-up-helmet overlay to guide him in.

  Gus shook his head and flared the ship at the last minute above the patrol’s position, then punched the landing ramp release. Lightning was popping all around and the thunder was deafening through his helmet.

  The squad leaped from their positions and ran hard. When the last of them were exposed a tremendous blue bolt fell from the sky and danced from one Marine to the next. Puppet jerking as they screamed. Then it flared at Gus…

  #

  Recently “released from active duty” Governance Marine Gunner “Fancy” Nancy Stanski paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the Terne Station All Hands Club. She pulled at her stiff collar. Still not used to wearing these civilian clothes. Well, better get used to it, girl. I don’t think the Corps is going to offer your old job back. She was thirties, short blonde hair, pale blue eyes that crinkled when she smiled, and tall with a slim-hipped-broad-shouldered athletic build. The pagan hammer, Mjolnir, was tattooed on her right forearm. Several battle stars formed a halo around it.

  Nan had struck out so far getting her current employers, miners from a rock named Lestus 884, released from quarantine. They were getting antsy at her lack of progress. She was looking for Terne Station’s Executive Officer now.

  She walked up to the bartender and offered her hand, “Hi, Nan Stanski.” She spoke with the thick Slavic accent of northern Nakon, the Governance capital world.

  “Mike” he replied as she gave him a firm handshake.

  Harrison Grey pushed past without acknowledging her, “Mike, Mrs. Grey and I will be at our usual table.” He turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

  Mike said, “Of course, Captain.”

  Nan noticed Mike wave to an overdressed leggy blonde threading through the tables. She didn’t look too steady. “So that’s the Station CO’s wife?” Wonder what she ever saw in him?

  Mike answered, “Yeah, looks like Mitzi has already been at it tonight. Her father is First Lord Admiral Falkirk McGowan, head of the whole damn Navy.”

  Nan raised an eyebrow at that information and said, “Ah. Say, Mike, can you tell me if Fredrika DeWitt is here?”

  “She’s the one sitting by herself, frowning at the data tablet.” He nodded toward a woman sitting alone at a nearby table as he polished a glass.

  The Lieutenant actually had several tablets on the table and was working all of them.

  Nan sized her up. Late twenties, brown hair in a regulation bun, still in the uniform of the day with a barely touched dinner. Cute too! “What’s she drink, Mike? Make it two.”

  He poured a co
uple of frothy mugs of stout. Nan grabbed them and walked over.

  “Mind if I join you?” Nan Stanski. Without waiting for a reply, she set one mug in front of the Lieutenant and offered a hand.

  The Lieutenant looked up from her tablet, a little startled, “Uh, sure,” she shook the offered hand. “Fredrika DeWitt” she said.

  Nan flashed a smile, “What do you drink, el tee?”

  “Uh, Cronsburg,” replied Fredrika.

  “I happen to have an extra here. You from Ransom? That’s the only place I know for Cronsburg.”

  “Yes, I am,” Fredrika spoke with a posh accent to hide the fact she was actually from a backwater minor planet. She cautiously sized up Nan.

  Nan began, “Fine place, Ransom, good people there. Always treated us Marines well.”

  “Marine hmm, on leave?”

  “Well, recently separated actually, pursuing new opportunities.”

  “What kind of opportunities?” Fredrika actually welcomed the chance to ignore her tablets. Nan looked like an interesting distraction.

  “Well, right now I’m working security for Sirace Mining. Pirates are making it hard for decent folks to survive. Plus, my crew is in quarantine because someone caught a cold.”

  “I’ve heard some random reports. Sorry about that, the Governance is stretched pretty thin out here around Ix.”

  Nan held up her hands, “Oh, I’m not here to ask any favors, just making small talk.” She raised her glass to Fredrika, who responded in kind. “Cheers to Ransom.”

  The smiling pair had just finished a second round when they heard shouting coming through the doors. A group of regular Army came in laughing loudly. Their badges identified them as Dragger’s Raiders.

  “Oh great, these assholes!” Fredrika said under her breath. “They’ve been causing trouble here for a week.”

  “Hey XO!” one of the group called out and stumbled over to the table. “Who’s your friend? Mind if we join you?” the man didn’t wait for a reply before plopping down in an empty chair. “Hey, look who it is fellas, our friend Lieutenant DeWitt.”

  The group smelled of stale beer and trouble. Nan could see this wasn’t their first stop of the night.

  One of the Raiders noticed Nan’s tattoo. “Well, look here guys, we got ourselves a genuine war hero.” He grabbed her forearm and lifted it to show everyone her tattoo.

  Fredrika jumped up, put the Raider in a wrist lock, and frog marched him out. Nan broke into involuntary laughter at the sight of a determined Dewitt, who barely came up to the guy’s shoulder, booting the drunk through the door. The bartender reached under the bar and raised a stun bat in anticipation of what he was pretty sure was going to happen next.

  “Oh, think that’s funny huh, war hero?” sneered another of the Raiders. He lunged.

  She batted away the punch. Unfortunately, it landed squarely on a Chief Petty Officer at the next table. The Chief yelled, spun around, and threw a roundhouse at the Raider.

  Fredrika whirled at the noise and watched the whole place erupt into general mayhem. She drew her capper. Mitzi Grey screamed.

  Two burly Raiders squared off on Nan. She quickly dodged around a table, flipped it, and backed away.

  “Big bad Marine running from some lowly Army ruck humpers,” one taunted.

  Nan grabbed a tray for a shield just as one one thew a punch. He screamed as his hand smashed against the steel. She broke the other one’s nose with the now bent tray. He dropped to his knees.

  “I would love to stay and chat boys, but I gotta run.” Nan turned to dart away.

  Broken nose shook his head and caught her by the ankle, “Got ya now!”

  She fought like a wildcat until she was tagged by a stray cap round. The pair hoisted her up and heave-hoed her over the Greys’ table and through the video wall. Mitzi was still screaming. Grey was speechless. The Raiders laughed and pointed. Bartender Mike walked up behind the pair and zapped them.

  “Well, so much for a quiet evening.” Mike said, looking around at the wreckage.

  Other works by Dale Sale

  Corvus Ascending

  Corvus Sirocco

  Corvus Defends (coming soon)