Waking in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 2)

by D Patrick Wagner

  The squad succeeded. Upon reaching another clearing, PFC Ajam announced, “We’re here. The cave is just on the other side, the entrance behind that outcrop.”

  “Latif, overwatch. Mahdi, break out the drones. Five should do it. Drop one for control relay at the mouth. Four snoopers. Everyone else, set parameter sensors. Get it done, people.”

  Everyone dropped their oversized packs and unpacked their gear. Latif unbundled his long gun, picked a hide beside a large-trunked tree and set up his sniper watch. Boulos unpacked and strapped on his Gatling gun, turned his back to the cave and began quartering the surrounding territory. Jabour, Wadji, Faheem and Ajam grabbed sensors and stakes from their packs and spread out, moving back into the forest.

  Using their geographical position trackers, they set the sensors at equidistant points which cross-covered the entire terrain encircling the cave opening.

  Mahdi sat cross-legged, resting his control pad on his knees while working the controls of the five drones. These fist-sized mechanical eyes, ears and noses flew towards the cave mouth on their four rotary blades and held. After a few touches and slides by the drone specialist, four flew in and one held pose, dead center of the dark opening.

  Four drones entered. With applications designed for searching by quadrant, the four drones covered every square inch of the surprisingly large cave. The drones sighted multiple tunnels branching off in multiple directions. As they scanned, listened and sniffed, they sent all of the accumulated data back to the receiver drone. It, in turn, wi-commed the collected data packets back to Mahdi’s control pad.

  After an hour of scanning, he came to the conclusion that no one or anything hid in the darkness. Nor did any of his flying robots locate any explosive devices. Having completed the search, Mahdi recalled the devices, packed them up and searched for First Sergeant to give his report.

  After giving the ‘all clear’ report and being ordered to set up his bivouac, he joined the rest of the team. Once squared away, the Lance Corporal rested up before his turn on watch.

  * * * * *

  Again, the morning sun hid behind the thick, wet cloud cover. Seven weary soldiers climbed out from a restless night, having been periodically roused by the constant thrumming of the rain on their canvass shelters and the banging of thunder assaulting their hearing. With everyone present, they variously stretched, groaned or grumbled, shaking off the sleep fog and getting right for the coming action.

  “You, Newbie. Bury the latrine.” Wadji ordered Ajam.

  “You coming to help, Wadji?”

  “That’s Corporal Wadji to you, Newbie. And no, I am not helping. It’s your job. Newbies always get the shit jobs.”

  The other four laughed at the pun. “Get digging, Newbie. We’ve got things to do.”

  “Another beautiful day, gentlemen. Another day where we get to earn those precious credits the Federacy so joyously pays us. Load up. Today we work. Tomorrow we head home.”

  Six marines groaned at their First Sergeant’s proclamation and orders.

  Within an hour, everyone had packed up their gear, eaten their morning rations and again donned and strapped their ponchos. Once everyone collected in the center, First Sergeant Boulos called everyone together.

  “. Ajam, point. Wadji, cover. Latif, me, middle-scan. Jabour, watch the six. Spread formation”

  Leaving the forest and crossing the field displayed the professionalism and teamwork the squad possessed. Being the first time, since the alien invasion, that they covered open ground, everyone remained hyper-alert. Ajam led. Latif and Boulos split behind him, covering the flanks. Wadji and Mahdi bracketed the corpsman, Faheem. Jabour trailed, heads and weapons on a swivel, covering both sides and rear.

  “Down,” Wadji hissed.

  Seven men hit the dirt. Being covered with their ponchos, they became mounds on the countryside. Keeping faces buried in the mud, they all listened, tense for action. The sound of the alien search drones increased. Multiple flyers buzzed the forest, running search patterns, looking for the human enemy. Continuing, the alien search machines left the canopy and flew over the field. The search grid included the area seven Sasanian marines endeavored to become as one with the soggy soil. Time passed. The alien drones completed their search pattern then left, heading for their new targets. Per previous training, the squad remained motionless for another full ten minutes.

  “Squat walk, to the cave. Double time.” First Sergeant whisper-shouted his command, rose and moved towards the cave mouth. Minutes later, the entire squad stood in the opening, sheltered from the sky and hidden from the forest.

  “Now I know why you have those big ears, Wadji.”

  “All the better to hear the bugs coming, Jabour.”

  “Night goggles. No lights until we know what’s in here. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Acting as though sweeping a hostile building, First Recon moved deeper, automatically took control of their quadrants and began slowly searching every corner, every nook, every shadow capable of holding anything dangerous. Two hours of searching forced the massive cavern to give up its secrets.

  “No threats, Sarge.”

  The other five agreed with Wadji.

  “And big. Big enough to hold HQ.

  “We could get out of this fragging rain, Sarge.”

  “You read my mind, Ajam. Set up camp over there, behind those crates. Jabour, Wadji, first watch. Latif, Faheem, set up a secondary sensor parameter. Around the glade. Dig out some of those automated cannons we found. Set them around the cave mouth. With the sensors in the forest, that gives us three levels of security, two observation, one offensive. We catch anyone coming through the trees. Mahdi, set up a permanent view station just inside the mouth. Put together a schedule for periodic drone watch. Let’s move it, people.”

  It took the full, two hour watch to get the camp set up and squared away. Once done, everyone, except Mahdi and Ajam, sat on crates and boxes, eating rations, drinking water and taking a break.

  “Where’d all this equipment come from, Sarge?”

  “Let’s just say ‘undocumented requisitioning’ and leave it at that, Wadji.”

  “I heard rumors. About a group of rebels. In the Federacy military. Is that where this came from?”

  “Yes. But that’s the past. Let it lay. Anyway, it worked out for the better. We’ve got equipment, munitions. Rest,” the First Sergeant commanded. “Thirty minutes. Then we begin inventorying.”

  “Uh, Sarge?” Ajam spoke from his observation point, holding his sentry shift by the cave opening

  “Yes, Ajam?”

  “There’s a tablet. It’s got everything cataloged.”

  “And, how would you know this, Newbie?”

  “Well, um, I knew a guy.”

  “Yeah, right. You one of those malcontents? Don’t like the Federacy?”

  “Look, Wadji. I didn’t ask to be here. I got stuck here.”

  “Poor Newbie.”

  “It was this or Social Harmony Indoctrination. I didn’t want someone scrambling my brain, so I picked here. End of story.”

  “And you just happened to get mixed up with the losers that steal equipment from us who care.”

  “That’s enough, Lance Corporal. Ajam’s one of us now. Forget the past shit. Without him, we don’t get this stash. We don’t get a chance to fight back. So zip it, Wadji.”

  After glaring down Wadji and staring down the rest of the group, First Sergeant Boulos ordered, “Ajam, get the tablet. The rest, pair off. There’s a hell of a lot more equipment here than I imagined. No way to count it in an afternoon. So we spot check. Spot check everything, make lists on your tablets. Send them to Ajam. He checks against the stash tablet. If the spot checks are accurate, we’re good. Let’s move.”

  Everyone rose to carry out the Sergeant’s orders.

  “Mahdi, get on the drones. You’re on overwatch.”

  Taking the entire afternoon, the spot checks went cleanly. Whoever had inventoried the cave had kep
t meticulous records. Meeting back by supper time, the team again sat, ate and pondered what they found. Ajam volunteered for watch, choosing isolation over the negativity from, primarily Wadji, and the rest of the squad.

  “You see this stuff Sarge?”

  “Lots of stuff.”

  “There are two hover scouts over there. Fully armed. Ammo, fuel, the works.”

  “I saw them.”

  “Everything for a small war. Heavy manual weapons. Motorized cannons and launchers. Shoulder rocket launchers. Plenty of rockets.”

  “Where’d the rebels get this stuff?”

  “Like I said, undocumented requisitions.”

  “Heavy personal weapons. Some single-man hover guns.”

  “Yeah, I went over the file. There’s enough to equip the remainder of Headquarters. We can arm up all our people. When the time is right, make a difference.”

  Lifting his chin at Ajam, Wadji asked, “Who would have thought that a bunch of misfits could get all this.”

  “It’s been going on a long time. Some of those hover craft are over ten years old. This revolt has been in the works for a long time.”

  “Well, now it is ours, Sarge,” Jabour interjected.

  “Yeah, now it’s ours. So Cut Ajam some slack. His head may be screwed on wrong, he may have joined the wrong team, but when it came time to step up, he did. He could have turned turtle, not tell anyone about this cache. He knew he’d get a large ration of blowback, maybe some stocks time. But he stood up. I’ll bet that there are people back at base that will slit his throat for his giving up the stash, if they get the chance. Think about that, Wadji, when you tear into him again.”

  “I still don’t trust him. None of us do.”

  “I can see that. He’s got to pay his dues, earn his spot. Grind him. But grind him fair.”

  The other four had been listening in on the quiet conversation. The sergeant could read his people, saw their expressions. They would play fair. Rough, but fair. Ajam’s future looked rocky with a chance of pain.

  “Now, sack time. Tomorrow we dig in, set up a buttress. Wadji, Faheem, next watch. Latif, you do your sneak thing. Rabbit back to H-Q. Give the Commander the intel and recommend that he move his force up here.

  “I’ll go tonight, Sarge. Not sleepy.”

  “Ok. Don’t break anything in the dark.”

  Oishi Scout Team

  The morning sun of the third week replaced the overnight cold with its warming light. Leaves and flowers turned to suck in the life-giving rays, welcoming another day. The boulder, twice the size of a man, continued its vigil over its lake, casting a long shadow on the small chops brought on by the soft breeze.

  A small section of the large boulder seemed to open and close as Mappai (subordinate) Juro Ariyama unzipped the camouflaged lean-to, climbed out and closed up his hidey-hole. Sousui (Commander) Taketa Oishi crawled out from under his camouflaged awning and dropped its flaps, rendering its contents hidden from prying eyes, even bug eyes.

  With neither speaking, Taketa sat on his now-familiar rock, pulled out his personal tablet and launched the scout team’s observation drone. Shooting straight up, it achieved a height rendering it nothing more than a dot in the sky. Juro began the preparations for morning meal.

  “Stop!” Taketa signed.

  Juro stopped his prep and waited.

  “Scouts. Eight. Southeast. One klick.”

  “Abandon?”

  “Prepare. We’ve lost eleven teams, already. The aliens are getting smarter.”

  Juro returned the gear to its storage bag and began packing and shifting everything from his lean-to to a third hidden site, nestled between the boulder and the lake. Taketa mirrored his subordinate’s effort, also preparing to flee if necessary.

  Once the both of them had donned their wetsuits, Taketa went back to monitoring the approaching alien scout squad. Juro slipped into his special rucking shoes and began a swishing walk over the entire campsite, obliterating any footprints or signs of human movements.

  “Five minutes, they are here,” again Taketa signed.

  “We go?”

  “Yes. By now they know what to look for.”

  The two Nightshades pulled down and stowed their now-empty shelters, crept to their stash tent and began strapping on packs, gear and weapons. As a last step, Taketa launched the surveillance probe and guided it to a high, hovering altitude. Once done, he and Juro pulled down and packed the last canvas, donned their rebreathers and slipped into the lake. Once concealed below the surface, Taketa pulled out a small periscope and viewed their campsite.

  The aliens proved to be a well-disciplined military group. They approached the unknown areas by the numbers, two establishing overwatch positions, two advancing and establishing firing lines. Two more moved in and established a more secured area. The final two, by their demeanor, the ones in charge, approached, also wary and alert.

  Taketa watched through his viewer as all eight carefully searched every inch of the area. One four-legged bug raised a clawed arm and clicked some kind of shout. The two leaders approached, looked at what he soldier had found and also clicked some kind of shout.

  The five remaining aliens immediately dropped their abdomens to the ground, brought strange weapons to bear and began sweeping the area. Taketa watched all this, internally sighed and signaled to his mappai.

  “They found something. Camp is discovered.”

  “Second base?”

  “Too close. This team knows what it is doing. We can’t stay near the lake.”

  “West?”

  “Yes. We should begin our surveillance.”

  With more determination than ever, the two Nightshades began their underwater swim to the far shore and further into dangerous, alien territory.

  Chapter 10

  Aboard Wisdom Seeker

  Two hours later, and after a long time in the refresher, a ready Captain Marston stood beside Keiko at the edge of the competition area. With the Elonian Heating unit on his harm, the cold stayed at bay. His breath still puffed in clouds as he breathed deeply, focusing on oxygenating as much as possible.

  Looking around, he saw Princess Analyn sitting in a raised chair with her invariably present Sir Mahajani standing bodyguard. Upon seeing that the Princess had spotted him, he performed the Elonian salute, received a nod, ear-flick and teeth-covering smile then dropped his arm.

  In the area of the Princess, Mack stood with Chief Engineer Varrini. Sue stood with her IT counterpart, Dame Srilin. Buster and Vidhee stood together, with a group of synthetics dressed in the same silver tunica as Vidhee. Krag found it interesting that Buster also wore a tunica. This one a very dark blue, the same as Krag’s dress uniform. Instead of any burnt-orange trappings, buster’s tunica sported the Griffin logo and a silver belt, the same color as Vidhee’s tunic.

  “Did you do that?”

  “Buster thought it up,” Keiko answered. “Vidhee had it printed up for him. I think he became embarrassed about walking around without any clothing.”

  “Our boy is growing up.”

  Looking back at the grappling mat, He noted a burnt-orange circle with about a five meter diameter. Scanning the rest of the large workout area, he saw the entire wall of retractable seating, filled with Elonians, clumped by tunic colors. In one section, hundreds of Elonians, all dressed in the same burnt-orange garb as Commander Tarunga, sat.

  Using his newly-learned mindspeak, he asked Vidhee, “Are these the Royal Guardsmen?”

  “Yes, they are, Captain Marston.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, Captain Marston. We are many locts from any space object or ship. Therefore none need be on sentry. And this is a unique event. If you compete, No one wants to miss it.

  “Well, that settles that,” Krag mumbled under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Keiko. Just thinking out loud.”

  Krag spotted a section of bleachers occupied by Doctors Ganakin and Roshnak, surrounded b
y a group of natural and synthetic Elonians, all dressed in the same green tunica of scientists. Another section held a few hundred more natural and synthetic Elonians, these wearing a brown tunica, the same as the ones worn by the bridge crew.

  After his quick survey of the stands, Krag guessed that there were approximately five hundred Elonians present and wondered how many got stuck with ship duty. As he soaked up his surroundings, a constant rumble of noise and crackling energy started small and grew until it permeated the large room, filling the air with anticipation and excitement.

  The crowd, the noise, the air of expectancy brought back remembrances of his competitions at the academy. It brought back his sense of joy at winning, his despair at losing. Krag wondered which one he would experience today.

  His inspection of the room became interrupted as Commander Tarunga, almost as large as Sir Mahajani, strode up to Princess Analyn and performed the Elonian salute. “My Princess.”

  After receiving an ear flick and head nod, he dropped his paw, turned to Sir Mahajani and repeated the honorific.

  Again mindspeaking, Krag asked Vidhee, “Vidhee, why did Commander Tarunga salute Sir Mahajani?”

  “Two reasons, Captain Marston. The first is that Sir Mahajani was once the commander of the Royal Guard. Secondly, he has royal blood. He is a twice-removed cousin to King Kaporine.”

  “Princess Analyn never refers to him as a cousin.”

  “That would be dishonorable. Referring to Sir Mahajani as a cousin would imply that his position had been bestowed, not earned. The fact is that Sir Mahajani would be very displeased with anyone pointing out his royal lineage. Some have. They regretted it.”

  “I see. Thank you for your insight, Vidhee.”

  “It was nothing, Captain Marston.’

  “May I inform my people of Sir Mahajani’s status?”

  “Buster already knows. For the rest, only in private. Upon a vow of silence.”

  “That goes without saying, Vidhee.”

  Having performed his acknowledgements, Commander Tarunga strode to the center of the wrestling ring, pointed at a spot then began growling and barking untranslatable sounds.