by James Rosone
The group of Deltas waited just a moment for the depressurization to finish before they rushed into the building, clearing the room of possible holdouts. Synths didn’t need oxygen to breathe, so there could still be a few defenders inside.
With their blasters at the ready, they ran into the room as best they could in the low-gravity environment of the lunar surface. No sooner had they rushed in than two Synth defenders opened fire on them with their blasters. One of Royce’s guys got hit, his body shaking from the stun before he slumped to the ground. He was out for the remainder of the exercise.
While his squad got their charges ready on the next airlock door, Royce took a moment to look at the readout of his platoon. He saw he’d sustained nine casualties since the start of the assault. Other than the troops that were down, everyone else seemed fine. Their biomechanical suits were operating normally: oxygen levels were optimal, power packs and weapons were good. Everything appeared to be going according to the plan, minus the casualties.
“Stand by for breach!” barked one of the junior sergeants as he moved to the side of the wall.
The other soldiers in the squad moved to the side except one. He had his rifle aimed at the door, ready to shoot whoever was on the other side when the door was blown open.
“Breaching!” yelled the sergeant.
Boom.
The door blew backward into the room they were in. The Delta aiming at the door didn’t quite get out of the way in time as the door flew off-angle and right at him. It slammed into his body and threw him backward several meters until he thudded against the opposite wall.
Slumping to the ground, the soldier started to panic as the front glass of his helmet cracked and started venting oxygen. He let out a sharp yelp as a piece of metal sliced through his EVA suit and into his left thigh. That rip in his suit also started venting oxygen on him, further adding to his horror.
Royce switched over to the man’s suit and his vitals. He quickly saw the problem and moved over to check on him. Two of his soldiers tried to help the wounded guy, but Royce yelled, “Stand down!” He wanted the injured Delta to work on sealing the leaks himself.
The rest of the squad proceeded to clear the next level while Royce stayed near the wounded soldier as he applied a quick sealant to the crack on his visor. He then pulled the piece of metal out of his thigh with a yell. With the metal removed, the soldier slapped a patch on the puncture in his EVA suit. Once he’d stopped the oxygen bleed, his suit repressurized itself. The soldier then released an injection of biomedical nanites into his bloodstream to stop the bleeding in his leg.
Leaning down to the wounded Delta, Royce held out his hand and helped him up, pulling the man close to him so their face masks were right in front of each other. “I hope you understand why I had you fix yourself up, soldier,” he said sternly.
The young trooper looked at him and nodded. “To prove that I could treat myself and the others could as well.”
Royce nodded in satisfaction. “Exactly. We’re not RA, we’re Special Forces. That means unless you’re really effed up, you need to be able to take care of yourself. In the vacuum of space, you have to make split-second decisions that’ll save your life and the lives of those around you. There isn’t any wiggle room out here. If you mess up, you could end up dead—or worse, your squad or platoon could end up dead. Is that understood?”
“Hooah, Sergeant,” came the quick reply.
“Good. Now go catch up to your squad, and let’s finish clearing this objective.”
Two hours later, the Osprey that had brought them to the lunar surface settled on the ground, not far from their positions. Sergeant Royce yelled out for everyone to load up. It was time to head back to the Voyager and write up their after-action review of the exercise.
They had accomplished their objective, sustaining thirteen casualties out of forty-eight soldiers. Now it was time to evaluate what had happened and examine what had gone right, what had gone wrong, and what could have gone better.
You train as you fight, and you fight as you train, Royce said to himself. It was important to study everything about these training exercises, so when the real deal happened, they’d be ready, and it would be like second nature.
Walking into the Voyager’s medbay, Master Sergeant Royce made his way over to his injured trooper. “How’s he looking, Doc?”
Looking up at him, the doc grunted. “He’ll live. I just gave him another injection of nanites. It’ll ensure he doesn’t come down with an infection and finish healing up the wound.”
“Didn’t that first injection do that?” asked the young soldier with a curious look on his face.
The doctor snickered at the question. “No, son. The first injection kept you alive, soldier. The medical infusion in your EVA suit doesn’t pack enough nanites to fix you up to one hundred percent. It’s just supposed to get you back in the fight and keep you alive long enough to make it back to the ship or a hospital unit.”
“You hear that, Hawkins? Don’t go taking a chest full of bullets or shrapnel. This thing might not be able to bring you back from the dead,” Royce joked good-naturedly with his trooper.
“Give it a few more years or a decade, Master Sergeant, and this stuff will be able to do a lot more than it already can. As it is, it’s able to cure nearly any known ailment the human body faces, to include cancer. Hell, they say in time, this thing’ll be able to keep you alive well into your two hundreds or more, if you can believe that,” the doctor said before he moved on to another task.
“When you’re done here, Hawkins, report back to your squad leader,” Royce ordered. “I want you to review what happened and why you got injured. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again. Next time you may not be so lucky, OK?”
The young soldier nodded. Royce then left to go check on the rest of his platoon and see if the captain had any additional orders for them.
Walking up to the captain’s office, Royce rapped his knuckles on the door frame. The captain looked up, then motioned for him to come in and take a seat. “I reviewed the video from the exercise and your notes. The platoon did well,” he said. “Actually, the platoon did better than I thought they would. That objective had more than six hundred defenders. The battalion commander was impressed as well. Do you believe the platoon is ready should we have to execute a mission like this for real?”
Royce paused for a moment to consider his answer. “That’s hard to say, sir. To be fair, an assault like this has never been done outside of a training scenario. I’d like to think we’d handle it fine—but until the enemy votes and the bullets fly, it’s hard to know.”
“I agree. Which is why we continue to train over and over again. I’m honestly not sure if the Europeans or the Asian Alliance practice this kind of stuff. But should hostilities break out after the SET ends, we’ll be ready.”
Royce nodded. “Sir, since the Alpha Centauri mission isn’t happening, any word on where we may be going next?”
The captain looked up at him. “No idea. All I’ve been told is we’ll be shipping out on the Voyager in a month. We’ll receive our new orders and mission once we’re on our way.”
Chapter Ten
A Pirate’s Life
Sol
The Belt
Captain Liam Patrick looked at his lead engineer, puzzled. “Are you saying you can’t fix it?”
Sara narrowed her eyes a bit as she replied, “I didn’t say that, Liam. I’m telling you that you need to stop shooting them up so bad. You can’t keep bringing me ripped-apart mining ships and then expect me to put them back together for you. It doesn’t work like that. I need spare parts, and I need the right type of equipment. Heck, I need a shipyard with the tools to get all this done.”
Liam shook his head. “We will have all that, one day. Right now, we have to keep working toward our goal. To do that, we need money. Heck, I spent nearly all our cash on those 3-D printers you wanted and bought a new Synth to help you with the repairs. What more
do you want?”
“I want a freaking station and a yard to work from,” she replied hotly. “I want you to stop killing miners.”
Liam’s face turned beet red. He stood and walked over to the window and looked out at the little empire they had built these last ten years. It still ate him up to think about the lives lost to build what they were building.
As he stared at the jumble of ships and two small habitats on the side of a massive asteroid, Liam replied, “You know I don’t like the killing any more than you. I only do it when there isn’t any other choice.”
Their ultimate dream sat out there, a few hundred kilometers away. Even now, Liam and Sara had crews working around the clock on hollowing out the enormous rock so they could build a base within it. Heck, that rock was practically a planetoid in its own right. They were still years away from that dream—having an outpost of their own, run by them and other people who wanted to be free of a world or colony controlled by the Earth-based governments. Over the years, they had bought a few small commercial cruise ships that had room to house a few hundred people and grow their own food. Those ships were the start of their new colony.
Sara walked up to Liam and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t like the killing any more than I do, but we have to find a way to build this world of ours more peacefully. We can’t keep terrorizing the Belt like this.”
He sighed. “When we bring this next haul in to sell, it’ll give us a hundred million, I think,” he explained softly. “What I need to know is what do you need to get that ice miner back operational? I want to add that ship to our mining operation. Water’s an important resource we need out here. We need that ship, Sara. When we get this mining fleet going, we may finally be able to put an end to our piracy efforts and go legit.”
Now it was Sara’s turn to sigh. “I’ve made a list of parts we need. If you can get the items I’ve highlighted, that should be enough. I think it’ll be close to forty or fifty million unless those bastards have raised their prices again. Oh, and I could really use a couple more Synths if possible. Engineers, ones that know how to repair and rebuild the shot-up ships you keep bringing me. We’ve got close to a dozen miners out there that need repairs. If we can get them all back up and running, then yeah, it should end our piracy days. But, Liam, even if it doesn’t, there has to be a better way of doing this than killing people. These miners are like us, just trying to make a better life for themselves.”
“You’re right. We’ll figure something out,” he replied, running his right hand through his hair. “As to those engineering Synths, you know those models are expensive. Last I checked, they were close to forty million apiece.”
“They are, but you can’t keep buying those cheaper models for your base building and not give me any of the expensive ones to keep these ships up and running. I’m trying to maintain a fleet of seven miners with twelve people and one Synth. I need help if you want me to keep things going.”
He shook his head. “Fine, I’ll get you another one. No more, though. We have to get our base up and running. Once we have that, we’ll have our home. We’ll be able to build our society the way we want it.”
*******
Two days later, Liam was sitting in the captain’s chair of the freighter John Galt as they neared the Mars Orbital Station. Buying the massive cargo hauler four years earlier had been one of the smartest moves he’d made. His little band of pirates had been ganking smaller mining ships and cargo vessels along the various trade routes for the better part of a decade—all part of their larger plan to acquire the resources they needed to build their own station and facility in the Belt.
The problem was, they couldn’t just show up at the MOS with a stolen ship and expect not to get caught. For now, Liam kept his pirate fleet tucked away in the Belt, out of sight of prying eyes.
The John Galt handled all of their supply runs now. It had been an expensive purchase at the time, nearly two billion dollars. It was a brand-new ship, custom-built for them, equipped with its own inertial dampeners and artificial gravity. It was also FTL-capable and had a sizable cargo hold that could transport raw ore and refined water. His pirates had added a few aftermarket magrail turrets for defense as well. There were, after all, pirates running amok in the Belt.
The radio crackled to life. “This is Mars Orbital Station. Welcome back, John Galt. You are cleared to dock at Port Six Alpha. Stand by to receive docking tug and crew.”
I love coming to MOS, Liam reflected. It was a chance to be around people again, an opportunity to learn what else was going on in the system. He’d also gain some intelligence on what ships and companies might be operating near the empire he’d built. Liam liked the space operations crew on the MOS too. They were a wealth of scuttlebutt, which, as a pirate, was invaluable when he needed to stay one step ahead of being caught. Of course, if they knew who he really was or how he continued to acquire his large mining loads, they’d probably blast him from space or have a Republic Army raiding party waiting for him at the docking port.
He depressed the talk button on the radio. “That’s a good copy, MOS. Standing by to receive docking crew and tug.”
Liam finished decelerating the ship until they came to a complete halt two hundred kilometers from the station. Now they’d sit tight and wait until a docking tug came out there. It’d dock with them first and offload a pilot who would steer them into the port. The tug would then use its tractor beam to tow them in at a controlled speed. Once they got near the docking berth, the pilot would use the maneuvering thrusters to connect them to the station. Then they’d all get off and wait for the ship to be inspected before they offloaded their cargo to be sold. Liam would go on a buying spree, picking up new equipment for their home away from home.
Half a day later, the tug finally reached them. Liam went down to the docking station to greet their pilot for the day.
“Hey, Captain Dasani. Back with another load to sell, I see,” Mike Miller said as he climbed aboard the ship.
Liam smiled as he extended his hand to shake Mike’s. The people on MOS knew him as Captain Tim Dasani, a successful mining company owner that operated deep in the Belt. “A guy’s gotta pay the bills, right?” he said with a wink.
Mike snickered. “Shoot, you guys have to be making a killing. The price of water, iron, nickel, gold, and platinum keeps going up. It’s a construction bonanza out here.” The two of them walked through part of the ship on their way up to the bridge.
“So what’s new on MOS?” inquired Liam.
Mike lifted an eyebrow as he settled into the helmsman’s chair. “Seriously? Haven’t you heard about all the pirate activity out there? I’m almost surprised you haven’t had your own share of run-ins with them.”
“Who says we haven’t?” Liam countered.
Mike turned to look at him. “You have? You should file a report with the station. They’ve been trying to collect intelligence on them. There’s even a twenty-five-million-dollar reward for their capture or death.”
Liam laughed at the reward amount. “That isn’t worth the risk if you ask me,” he explained. “We make more than that in a week if we find the right rock to mine. Nah, I’ll leave the pirate hunting to those who have nothing else to lose. Besides, we’ve equipped most of our ships with magrails, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Mike radioed to the tug that he was ready. A few minutes went by, and then the tug activated its tractor beam and started pulling the ship forward at a slow, controlled rate.
Mike pointed to something on the far side of the accompanying shipyard. “You see those ships over there?”
Liam craned his neck around to get a glimpse of what Mike was pointing at. When he saw it, his heart skipped a beat.
“The Republic, GEU, and Asian Alliance are constructing two each. They’re going to be a new frigate-class patrol boat. They plan on using them to help police the Belt and some of the major shipping routes against piracy.”
“Whoa. They aren
’t messing around, are they?” Liam asked, trying to act surprised and happy at the news. Secretly, he was nervous. This would put a considerable dent in their operation. Building a colony out of an asteroid the size of Rhode Island took resources—a lot of resources and money. And over the last ten years, their money had mostly come from their piracy efforts. They might have to switch to earning money the hard way if this new police force of sorts was able to find and stop them.
Liam spent the rest of the day making small talk with Mike, doing his best to subtly milk him for information about the latest gossip on the MOS and the three governing alliances that ran the station. When their ship finally docked, a customs agent came aboard and did a quick inspection of them and their cargo. Once the inspector had completed his job, he signed off on their paperwork and cleared them.
The first thing Liam did was head over to the exchange market. He met up with his commodities rep and started looking over the price of the various resources currently in demand. The station would purchase anything you brought in, but some items were obviously worth more than others. Liam liked to do a quick check on things so he knew what to look for when he went back to the Belt.
“Water is still in high demand,” commented his rep. “I see you have a large quantity of it this time.”
Liam smiled. “Yeah, we managed to find a decent chunk of ice. We were able to refine some pretty good minerals from it as well. I also have four tons’ worth of Erbium.”
“Whoa. Did you say you hauled in four tons’ worth of Erbium?” his rep asked in astonishment. “That stuff has gone up over eight hundred percent since your last visit. There’s a huge demand for it right now with the construction of some new warships back at the John Glenn Station.” The man was ecstatic; he got a half-percent cut of everything Liam brought in.
