Red Company: First Strike!, page 11
“Here. You clean out this suit for the next guy. This is all your fault, anyway.”
The words stung, and I felt my face flush with anger. I knew Tench was wrong, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it.
“It’s not my fault,” I said, my voice hard-edged. “I did what I could to save him, and you did what you could to bring him back. Desai pushed things too hard, and he paid the price.”
Tench’s face was ugly and full of lines. He stepped closer to me. “That’s not good enough,” he said. “We’re all responsible for the safety of our comrades, and that includes you. If you can’t handle that, then you should get out now.”
My fists were clenching and unclenching. I wanted to hit him, to make him understand what I was feeling. But I knew I couldn’t. Maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he wanted a chance to get me thrown into the stockade.
I just stood there, my anger slowly fading away as I looked out at the red Martian desert. I knew that Desai had given his life for a chance at proving himself to Red Company. I figured I could take a ration of shit for the same goal.
Corporal Tench straightened. “No response, huh?” he said in a more normal tone. “That’s good… This whole cocked-up show today was a learning exercise for everyone, in the end. We must stick to regs—but some of us will probably die anyway. The company suits have big plans for this outfit, Starn. I’m glad to see one training death wasn’t enough to get you to quit.”
Tench walked away then, and I gazed after him in some confusion. Had he been testing me? Had he been trying to get me to throw a punch the entire time? I wasn’t sure.
But I was sure Tench was right about one thing: the suits were cooking up something awful for Red Company. I’d been there while the captain had evaded her fate of being liquidated. From long experience, I knew it was going to take more than that to keep our masters happy. They wanted profit, and they were willing to risk all our lives to get it.
Chapter 16: A New Mission
You would have thought that after the death of one of our fellow soldiers during the training mission, they would give us a day off—but you would have thought wrong. In fact, if anything, I think they were working us harder after the accident than they had before.
The day after Desai’s death, we were sent out into the red desert for a live-fire exercise. Fortunately, we weren’t shooting at each other, but rather at moving targets. These turned out to be drones, robots that could walk and act like humans.
They fired back at us, but their shots were low powered. They were just enough to score hits. Our mission as Red Company was to destroy all the robots without losing too many of our own men. This proved harder than it would seem.
“Starn, what are you doing hiding behind that rock? Damn you, boy!” It was Corporal Tench. He still had it in for me. He still seemed to blame me, to some degree, for the death of Desai.
Was that because his own efforts had failed to bring him back to life? I didn’t know. I hadn’t even known that Tench possessed a reasonable amount of basic medical training, enough to call himself a corpsman in our group.
As full of surprises as ever, Corporal Tench appeared behind me and kicked me one in the rump. With Mars and its low gravity, this was a bigger deal than it might sound like. In fact, my butt was lifted up higher than my helmet for nearly a full second.
Uproarious laughter sounded all along the line of men who were, like me, hiding behind boulders and firing at the robots.
I got the last laugh, however. Corporal Tench had to stand tall in order to kick me—and that was a mistake. The robots, seeing a target that was higher than the level of the boulders themselves, lined him up and fired.
He was lit up redder than a baboon’s ass, and a second wave of laughter ran through my comrades. I grinned a bit, pretending I’d planned the whole thing—but then all levity vanished.
“They’re charging us!”
I think it was the fact that we’d been distracted, and therefore we’d paused in our counter-fire. That had kept the robots ducking. Now, their software had sensed an opportunity.
A crowd of spindly forms, things that looked like assemblages of towel racks and coat hangers, came rushing toward us. None of them had heads, which I thought was rather disturbing. Instead, they had cameras all around their trunks. I wouldn’t call them torsos, not exactly, because they were round and cylindrical, like a trashcan or a fire hydrant. Each of these trunks boasted an array of cameras aimed in every direction. Their positioning was static and the cameras didn’t swivel independently. Instead, they provided the robots with a 360-degree view of everything around them, like the eyes of a spider.
These robots, with their strange alien eyes, all charged us as a group. They were coming to finish us off.
“Don’t just sit there, shoot them down!” Sergeant Cox boomed, his voice resounding in our helmets.
One advantage the noncoms had was the ability to increase the volume that they projected to all the men under their command at will. Both Sergeant Cox and Corporal Tench tended to overuse this feature, in my opinion.
Despite my complaints and misgivings, their techniques certainly worked. Everyone’s attention turned back to the charging robots. We fired at them, and as they drew closer, our carbines became more effective.
I held down the trigger and sprayed at three of them that approached my boulder, taking hits to my shoulder and helmet. I kept firing, and in the end, I killed all three of the robots. Two more of our men in the squad succumbed to the robots’ efforts, but all the robots were marked as dead.
Sergeant Cox checked our scores, stopping in front of me and frowning. He informed me that I hadn’t been killed in the exercise, but I had been hit, and I’d kept fighting as if I wasn’t touched. He said we would have to change things up for me next time, and an injury-simulator software should have been turned on.
Corporal Tench, who had been pretending to be dead, got a kick in the ribs from Sergeant Cox for causing the earlier distraction that had caused the robots to charge in the first place. Seeing that did my heart some good. It was usually Tench who was doing the kicking.
Cox then called an end to the exercise and ordered Tench to load the robots into the carryalls. “We’ve got new orders. We’re moving out in ten. You’re riding on the back bumper on the way home, Tench.”
The corporal scowled as he asked the question that was on everyone’s mind: “New orders, Sarge? What new orders?”
Sergeant Cox looked at us, his face unreadable. “We’re supposed to return to Mars City immediately,” he said, his voice firm. “These exercises are at an end.”
A wave of relief washed over the group. We’d been running around in spacesuits in the Martian desert for weeks, and we were all eager to get back to civilization.
As we climbed into the transport vehicle, Sarge frowned at me.
“Why do I always see you in here, Starn? There are better men like Ledbetter out there holding onto the running board.”
“I climbed into the cab first,” I replied, grinning.
Sarge nodded his head in approval. “All right, that’s a good enough reason.”
“Can I ask a question, Sarge?”
“What do you want?”
I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I want to know if my basic training will be considered complete after this exercise. If even though we didn’t finish out the entire three weeks we were supposed to.”
Sarge frowned as he considered the request. He checked his computer scrolls and then made a few signatures. “I’ll pass this on up to the lieutenant and then the commander,” he said. “I think I can get a waiver for everyone.”
As we rode back to Mars City Dome, I reflected on what I’d learned during the training exercises. I’d gained a newfound respect for my fellow Marines and learned a lot about teamwork and survival in extreme conditions.
Feeling emboldened, he decided to ask Sarge another question. “About those robots that we fought. They were pretty good at their job. Why doesn’t Borag just buy a pack of those things instead of hiring guys like us and training us?”
Sergeant Cox grinned. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because of that prick, Blackwood. He did all the math and figured out one simple thing—we’re cheaper. That’s why you’re here, boy, and you should be glad of it.”
I sat back and thought about that for nearly an hour. Was I really cheaper than a decent combat robot? That was grim tidings indeed. I hoped against hope that I would never have to face a real robot enemy unit armed with full-powered weapons. Expensive or not, they did a pretty good job of killing Marines. What was worse was they had very little fear and would do anything necessary to achieve their mission goals, even if it meant essentially committing suicide to win a battle.
These disturbing thoughts weighed heavily on my mind as I passed out and took a nap, bouncing around on those big balloon tires all the way back to the Mars City Dome.
As it turned out, we weren’t just called back to the Mars dome. We were hustled directly to the elevator station, which we promptly rode up to the spaceport. By the time we got there, it was after midnight, but no one was allowed to go to any bars or take any R&R. Instead, we were all hustled directly to Borag’s docking station. There, one at a time, we wriggled through a tube onto our hulking ship.
The mining rig was quiet, and homey. I was grumbling, yawning, and heartsick. We were told we would get a briefing in the morning and ordered to our bunks.
Morning came all too soon. At approximately 0500 hours, we were awakened by klaxons and bells. We pulled ourselves together within a few minutes, mercifully allowed to piss and spit, but we weren’t given food or showers. Instead, we were hustled to the meeting room, where the rest of Red Company was waiting.
Then more people showed up. Green Company piled up at the back of the room. All the foremen and shore patrolmen were there. Pretty much everybody who toted a shock rod and possibly a laser pistol, rather than an automatic laser carbine that was truly meant to kill.
When everyone was assembled, Commander Kaine appeared at the front of the room and turned the entire wall behind him into a display.
“Marines and security personnel,” he said, “This is a special emergency briefing to bring you up to speed on what we’re about to undertake. Everybody shut up and listen tight. Captain Hansen is coming on-screen in a moment.”
Sure enough, there she was, standing larger than life on the back wall. The background behind her included the bridge and her numerous officers. She tilted her head, acknowledging Commander Kaine and then turned toward us.
Borag’s top officer had always possessed a commanding presence. She stood tall and proud. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her piercing eyes seemed to gaze out into the infinite depths of space. She wore a sharp, black uniform with gleaming brass buttons and a matching black cap. Her stance was firm, with her legs slightly apart and her hands clasped behind her back, giving her an air of confidence and authority.
“Loyal fighting men of Borag,” she began, “I’m calling this special briefing because all of you are directly involved. Our ship will be leaving port in approximately one hour’s time to embark on a special mission.”
These words created a murmuring among the troops. The noncoms cuffed men of the ranks, but still, they whispered among themselves.
It was quite a surprise. We’d been scheduled to complete our training and then be given some R&R. Was everything canceled? For my own part, I was particularly disappointed by a new, sick realization. I was going to have zero time to get more acquainted with Freya.
Sure, we might run into each other now and then on the decks of Borag, but that just wasn’t the same. Oftentimes, people were assigned to opposite shifts, even sleeping while the other one was awake. The romance of Mars colony was going to be left behind, and there was nothing aboard this ship to replace the charming spaceport.
By comparison, Borag was cramped, and every inch of the decks tended to be full of hustling crewmen. There were a few taverns and social spots for people to gather during their off time, but they were lackluster at best. I sighed audibly.
Private Ledbetter give me an elbow in the ribs. “Thinking about that hot little fluff from upstairs?” he asked, speaking in a whisper. “When are you not dreaming of romance?”
Unfortunately, his voice wasn’t quiet enough. Corporal Tench had been walking nearby, and he kicked the back of one of Ledbetter’s knees.
It was naturally the knee that had been supporting all his weight, so he almost went down. Cursing, Ledbetter straightened up and stood at attention again. Corporal Tench didn’t even bother to say anything. He just moved on.
Damn, what a tool that guy was.
“And so, you might be wondering,” Captain Hansen continued, “just where we’re going. The exact location is a secret. How we got the coordinates is also a secret. However, what I can tell you is we’re going into space, this time seeking revenge. We lost a number of good Marines and even more Green Company security men when certain disgusting rock-rat pirates attacked our ship. They also cost us a large percentage of our payload. Fortunately, our benefactors, the executives of Interplanetary Excavations, have located these criminals.”
That caused a stir. This time, there were even a few cheers and some clapping. For once Sergeant Cox and Corporal Tench didn’t react with fury to these outbursts.
Captain Hansen kept on going. “We know where they are, and we’re going out to get them.”
People cheered even louder.
“You may have noticed that Red Company is now much bigger,” Hansen went on.
I looked around, and I saw that she was correct. Before, we’d numbered less than thirty souls. Now, we were close to double that, plus officers and noncoms. It was a significant group, rather than a couple of squads.
Hansen displayed words and images concerning the ship, too. While Borag had been in port, she’d been armed with new weaponry. We now had a greater ship-to-ship capacity for self-protection and force extension, as well as a larger troop complement.
“Altogether,” the captain summarized, “we are a much more significant force now.”
While she was saying all this, I couldn’t help but wonder why the hell Earth’s actual military wasn’t getting involved. Earth possessed some pure military warships. These were rarely seen, especially beyond Mars, but there were always a few cruisers on station in orbit over Earth.
That was one of the reasons the pirates never ventured closer to the Sun than the orbit of Mars. I’d always kind of wondered about that. Why did the larger military units only patrol around our home world? The rest of humanity out at the fringes of the Solar System had to more or less fend for themselves.
I suspected that again, it had to do with cost. Supporting a deep-space warship was extremely expensive—especially if it did nothing else.
A mining ship like Borag, on the other hand, served a dual function. Such ships were generally able to turn a small profit. They paid for themselves while simultaneously handling chores such as fighting pirates.
A true cruiser from Earth could never do that. It generated no income, it was purely an expense. Just like in the case of robot troops, the corporations preferred running rigs like Borag. They were a cheaper—even self-supporting—method of policing the fringes of the Solar System.
I’d never really thought about such things before. But as the years had gone by, I had had increased exposure to people like accountant Blackwood. I now understood better how humanity had worked out the extreme economic realities of exploring and colonizing deep space.
Captain Hansen continued her briefing, but she didn’t really tell us much more of interest. Our exact target was still a secret.
She introduced the new members of Red Company and Green Company, none of whom I cared much about because they were they weren’t the most likely men aboard to kick me in the ass if they didn’t like what I was doing. That special distinction still resided with Sergeant Cox and Corporal Tench.
There was, however, one individual who I took serious note of. His name was Quinn, and he was a lieutenant. He was now in charge of Red Company under Commander Kaine, who was in charge of ship’s security overall.
Lt. Quinn was a seasoned space marine veteran with years of experience under his belt. He stood tall and proud, his broad shoulders and muscular build a testament to his rigorous training and combat deployments. His face was chiseled, with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes that held a hint of bravery. He wore his uniform with pride, every crease and badge perfectly in place, reflecting his discipline and attention to detail. Despite his tough exterior, there was a hint of a smile always lurking at the corners of his mouth. Overall, Quinn exuded confidence and competence.
We were told by the captain that we were to break up into our separate smaller units and continue the briefing. We shuffled out of the ready room and made our way to what turned out to be a converted mess deck. In fact, it wasn’t all that converted. The kitchen-patrol, along with a few robots, were just cleaning up from the last meal. In this small mess hall, Lt. Quinn took notice of this as we moved to the head of the formation. He had all of us sit on the benches in the mess hall.
“Marines,” he said, “I’m reorganizing this group into two new squads, one commanded by Sergeant Cox, here. The other will be commanded by me personally. Overall, I would say we’re still somewhat understrength, but it will have to do.”
Understrength? Red Company had just doubled in size with all this recruitment. What the hell were they expecting us to do?
“In regard to new mission,” Quinn said, “I will say that Sergeant Cox and myself are both experienced and capable men. Borag has, in fact, hired many people from other ships, along with buying a few new recruit contracts at the bottom. Now as for the nature of our mission, let me explain the role of ground forces in space. In vacuum, it’s relatively easy to blow things up. In general, the easiest thing to do with any enemy target is simply stand off in space and blast it to pieces.”
