by T. R. Harris
“This will prevent an 80-millimeter round from penetrating,” Noonan said. “And the alignment of the carbon fibers will channel a level one flash bolt into a storage reservoir where the energy can be repurposed to supply your plasma weapon.”
Pete held the thin material up to his face so he could study its thickness. It was barely an eighth of an inch thick and light as a feather. He shook his head. “I don’t know. Even if it can stop a bullet, there would still be a transfer of force through it. There has to be.”
Noonan nodded his approval. “Very good, Pete. That’s right. I won’t bullshit you; you will get pretty bruised up while wearing the suit. But unlike your old A-84 armor, this stuff won’t break, at least under normal wear and tear.”
Bullock stepped up to the three Marines. “The goal of this new technology is to not only protect the REV, but also to cut down on the recovery time from major injuries. That’s an incredible waste of time and manpower. As Noonan said, you’ll still get banged up, but bruises heal faster than torn up flesh and broken bones. Now take off your clothes and put this on.” Bull shoved a pile of white cloth into Pete’s chest. “It’s the undergarment you’ll wear with the armor. It’s infused with meds to cut down on the trauma caused during a Run, as well as a cushioning element for the impact force you talked about. It seems the people back on Earth care more about your welfare than I do. They don’t want you to get hurt…not much.”
“Gee, master sergeant, that sure was nice of them. I’ll be sure to put them on my Christmas card list. You, too.”
Bullock snorted. “Noonan, get him fitted, and then send him to the armory after you’re done.”
“Yes, master sergeant.”
Bullock huffed away, relieving a lot of the tension in the room in the process. Noonan looked at Pete.
“He was abused as a child,” the sergeant said with a smile. “Now, let’s get to work. There’s about a hundred separate pieces that make up your suit. Once they’re shaped, we have to connect them all. Trust me, Pete, you’ll like this a lot better than the old stuff.”
“Lighter, stronger, and it will keep me from getting shot to pieces…I think you’re right, even if I still have my doubts.”
“Just wait until we get to the helmet. You’ll really like that.”
Bull Bullock led the briefing in the armory.
“I gotta say at the outset, I was against this,” he said to Pete and Captain Lofton, who had joined them for the weapons orientation. “Energy weapons may be all the rage, but I still like things that go bang over things that just go poof.”
“I’m with you on that one, master sergeant,” Pete said. He’d just spent three hours being fitted for a thin outer skin that he doubted would do the job of his much heavier and more substantial A-84 armor. And whereas his old helmet had a clear plastic faceplate, the new helmet completely enclosed his head, providing only an electronic heads-up display of the outside world. Sure, it was full of new-fangled features, such as 360-degree scanning and target sensors, he’d felt claustrophobic when the helmet was placed over his head. The image inside was like not wearing a helmet at all, but Pete knew better. And what if the electronics failed? On a Run, most of his equipment—along with his body—were torn to shreds. It was a lot to expect that this new stuff wouldn’t suffer the same fate.
And now the weapons.
He still had a projectile gun, but not the trusty M-93 like before. This was a new, lightweight 32-caliber mini railgun. Again, an electronics-driven device. Even though Pete was only twenty-nine, and like all of his generation had grown up with a proliferation of electronic devices dominating his life, his survival would depend on these things working, and during the incredible stresses and abuses of combat. For Pete Savage, if it didn’t go bang or explode at some point, it wasn’t a weapon.
Captain Lofton could read the worry on Pete’s face.
“Sergeant, all these improvements have been designed to be more lightweight and flexible on the battlefield. Having to carry five hundred pounds of equipment and ammo into combat was always a big hindrance to the mission. With the new armor and weaponry, you’ll be able to move faster and react quicker, and the upgraded electronic surveillance will help you identify targets more reliably.”
“That’s all well and good, captain, if it mattered,” Pete countered. “But all a REV is concerned about is movement. If we see a target, we react to it. How will I know if the target is behind me or in front? The helmet view will only confuse me.”
Lofton cast a furtive look at Bull. Both had concern on their faces.
“What is it?” Pete asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Lofton sighed. “What the hell; you’ll find out sooner or later. You know the pajamas you wear under your armor?” Pete recoiled. That was just how he was referring to the white outfit Bullock had told him to put on earlier—and which he still wore under his fatigues. “Well it’s fitted with a number of electrodes which we can use to steer you during the Run.”
“Steer me…like with electric shocks?”
“Exactly.” Lofton took a breath before continuing. “You know that one of the biggest shortcomings of a REV Run is the fact that you can’t be guided. You just run until you’re Twilighted, following whatever target you lock on to. Yet with all the electronic surveillance and drone surveys available, back at command we often have a better perspective of the battlefield. We were looking for a way to make the Runs more effective, and also to help you avoid not-so-obvious dead ends, bottlenecks or traps. Honestly, most of the electronics in the new suit are for our benefit, not yours.”
“So how does it work?”
“According to field tests, you’ll get a pretty substantial shock to one side of your body. For a REV, you’ll instinctively react to the stimuli, identifying the shock as a threat. You’ll move in that direction.”
“Like a cattle prod, but opposite.” Pete stated.
“Exactly.”
“How substantial of a shock, captain?”
Lofton grimaced. “From what I understand, it’s quite a jolt. It has to be to penetrate a REV’s activated state of awareness. Fortunately,” the officer added, “you won’t remember any of it after the Run.”
“That’s what you say…sir.”
“Trust me, Sergeant Savage, everything we’ve done has been to improve your survivability and shorten the recovery time. It just takes a little getting used to.”
Pete stretched out a nervous grin. “Sir, mine is not to reason why, just to do or die.”
“Let’s hope that last part doesn’t apply.”
3
Two days later, Pete met back in the Unit briefing room for a final rundown of the mission specifics. Captain Lofton was running the meeting, with Colonel Daugherty and Major Freed in attendance. A detailed holographic image of the Bountiful Enclave shimmered at the center of the table.
“The enclave is laid out like the other Human settlements on the Colony Worlds,” Lofton pointed out. “There’s a twenty-foot-high concrete wall surrounding the encampment, with a hundred foot buffer zone on the interior and exterior. A lot of the native structures have infringed upon this outer zone, with some even attached to the wall. At one time, the Humans and the natives were good friends. Not so much anymore. When the settlers abandoned the enclave and moved to the much larger Unity location, the Antaere moved in immediately and took over. The natives, sensing that this was something that could cause problems down the road, began to move away. Even though technically they are allies of the Antaere, the Lanic have been putting distance between them and the Qwin for several months. The request for our help came through secret channels, so hopefully, the Antaere won’t anticipate our arrival.”
“Speaking of that,” said Colonel Daugherty. “We’ve been traveling in a small fleet of nineteen warships, with the Eldorado being the big gun. Anything larger might have been detected on the way here. Having said that, we’ll be facing an Antaere force about three times our numbers, but on
parity with our firepower. Surprise will be our ace-in-the-hole.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Pete said. “But fleets don’t move around in secret. And besides, it’s something like a six hour transit to Kaus once we enter the system.”
“That’s right, sergeant,” said Daugherty. “The battle will be joined the moment we enter the system. Yet like always, the Antaere won’t know our ultimate objective. They will assume, however, that we’re headed for Unity, to rescue the hostages there.”
“All one hundred fifty thousand of them, sir?” Pete questioned.
“That will be their gut reaction. Of course we can’t carry that many people aboard our ships. It would take the entire Human fleet to evacuate that many people. But we could be coming to secure the area and bring in fresh troops and supplies. They shouldn’t be expecting an attack on the Bountiful Enclave. Why would they?”
Captain Lofton continued. “We’ll establish a covering screen of fighters as we go into geosynchronous orbit here.” He pointed at a space about twenty degrees from directly above Unity. “This will add to the deception, but still give a glidepath to Bountiful. Sergeant Savage will be inserted at this point.”
The holographic image changed to show a closer and more detailed view of the enclave, taken from an angle outside the main gate.
“The entrance is wood construction, with double sentry posts on the walls,” the officer continued. “The Antaere have fortified these stations with R-18 flash cannon, as well as guard posts every quarter mile along the top. Because of this, Pete will land right at the gate, possibly even crashing into it with his ejection capsule.”
The captain leaned in and highlighted the main thoroughfare into the city. “The enclave was once home to forty thousand Humans and is laid out with these radiating roadways all leading to the central stadium.”
“Stadium?” Pete asked.
Lofton smiled. “Yeah. Apparently the original settlers were mostly from Europe and they really liked their soccer. There’s a modest-size arena at the center of the enclave, where most other settlements would have their government buildings. Not at Bountiful. Their football matches were more important than their politicians. Good for them. The stadium is where the Antaere have set up their headquarters, and according to native estimates, there are about seven hundred Antaere stationed within the enclave at any given time. It’s not a lot for the space they occupy, so they have a tendency to cluster. The stadium will be your main target, sergeant. Fortunately, the road from the main entrance to the stadium is wide and is where you’ll find most of your targets. As you Run, they should lead you there.”
“Or you’ll make sure I stay on track,” Pete said with a smile.
Lofton shrugged.
He continued with the briefing.
“The REV recovery team will be right behind, leading a force of Marines under the command of Lt. Colonel Grip Bennett. They will come in strong with fifteen hundred troops. Once inside the enclave, the Marines will separate and proceed along the inner perimeter of the settlement, driving the Antaere away and toward the stadium. If all goes according to plan, Sergeant Savage will break up the command structure and the RC will exfil. At that point the Marines will converge on the stadium and eliminate the last of the resistance. On paper, this isn’t much of an op.”
Pete studied the holograph. “Sir, how far is the stadium from the gate. It looks pretty far.”
“It’s three point five miles in.”
Pete raised his eyebrows. “That’s about twice as far as a standard Run.”
“We realize that, sergeant, but figure it’s not out of your range thanks to the lighter weight of your load. You should be able to move faster and farther than before.”
“And what about the RC? Even if I can reach the stadium and continue the fight once I get there, how will the recovery team keep up? That’s quite a distance for them to move on foot in under twelve minutes. And besides, look at the terrain. Even if I rush along the road, I won’t be clearing the hostiles with any certainty. The RC will be under constant harassing fire from the buildings with me a couple miles ahead. I’m not that concerned about me—every Run I consider will be my last. It’s the mission I’m concerned about.”
“Sergeant Savage, I appreciate your concern for our welfare,” said Lofton, smiling. “But we’ve anticipated this. Two Marine Special Ops squads will be with the RC. In addition, all the RC—and their accompanying Marines—will be fitted with mechanical exo-skeletons made out of the same cellulose material as your suit. It will allow them to move at about fifteen miles per hour. They’ll be there when you need them.”
Pete displayed the same nervous smile he’d been wearing for the past four days. There were too many new and improved elements to the mission for his liking. He wasn’t overly conservative as a general rule; it just seemed that for such an important mission, there were a lot of unproven aspects in play—at least unproven to him.
As the meeting broke up and Pete was escorted back to his room, he tried to put things in perspective. Yes, the mission was important, and the planners back on Earth had pulled out all the stops to guarantee its success. They were willing to try anything, and new and modern was the order of the day. But that also meant everything had to work as planned. If just one thing broke or didn’t perform as planned, it could have a domino effect on all the others.
But what could Sergeant Peter Savage do about it? He had to trust those senior to him, including the scientists and engineers behind the new and improved. And he had to trust in his military commanders. They wouldn’t do anything purposefully to jeopardize the mission.
Purposefully being the operative word.
When Captain Lofton arrived back at his office, with Master Sergeant Bull Bullock his shadow, he found company waiting for them.
Both men snapped to attention at the sight of the flag officer, seated in a chair in front of Lofton’s desk, a single silver star prominent on the khaki collar of his uniform.
“Colonel…I mean General Diamond,” said Lofton. “I didn’t know you were onboard.”
“Good,” said General Jack Diamond. “That’s the way I wanted it. Since I put on this star, it’s hard to move around without people making a big fuss.”
“Congratulations are in order, sir.”
“Thank you, captain.” He nodded at the junior officer and then at Bullock. “Good to see you again, master sergeant. It was at Camp Slater, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Bullock responded. “You got there just as the team left for Iz’zar. Like Captain Lofton, I didn’t know you were aboard the EL.”
“I came to observe the newest REV mission,” said the general. Lofton moved around the desk to his chair and sat down. Bullock sat next to the general. “This is the first one in over a year, and a lot of new protocols are in place. I want to see how it turns out.”
Captain Lofton didn’t like Colonel—now General—Diamond. No one he knew did, be they officers or enlisted. The smarmy intelligence officer was a fixture in the REV division, although Lofton could never figure out what his job was. He wasn’t a field officer, and he wasn’t a doctor. Instead he would show up at the most inopportune time simply to watch or insert himself where he wasn’t needed. But he did outrank most of the other officers in the division, even more so now that he was a brigadier.
“I appreciate your interest in the mission, general, but we seem to have things dialed in pretty tight. We drop in two days, as I’m sure you’re aware. It should get exciting. We’re anxious to get our feet wet again, and hopefully, this will be the first of many REV missions to come.”
“I agree, captain. And to emphasize the importance of the mission, I would like to make my contribution to the effort.”
He reached into his lap and pulled out a thin black metal case. He leaned over and placed it on the desktop before unsnapping the lid and opening it. Inside was a single vial of yellow liquid. Captain Lofton recognized it as NT-4, the Rev drug.
“Sir, we have p
lenty of NT-4. Following this mission, the Eldorado is slated to received two more REVs to fill out the triumvirate.”
“I understand that, captain, but this is not NT-4. It’s NT-5.”
Lofton drew in a short breath while focusing on the vial. He’d been expecting this. Before the drawdown of REV operations, he’d been receiving a constant stream of upgraded NT-4 formulas from Colonel David Cross and his team back on Earth. It seemed every few months, something new was coming out. Lofton wondered when the pace of change would require a new designation for the drug. And this was it. It also explained Diamond’s presence in his office.
“May I?” the captain asked. He removed the vial from the case and held it up to the light. Although he could see no difference in the liquid, he suspected this was a whole other ballgame in the world of the REVs. “So what does it do that the old formula didn’t?”
“A number of things, captain,” said Diamond. “Mainly tweaks, along with a few enhancements.”
“Care to elaborate, sir?”
Diamond looked at Bullock and then back to the junior officer. “All of this is highly classified. You’re not to speak of it to anyone, even to the members of your team, or to Sergeant Savage either.”
Lofton frowned. This was unusual. “Why is that, sir?”
“The formula is still under review and testing. But since there are a lot of things about this mission that are firsts, we thought this would be a good chance to test NT-5 out in the field.”
“Is that a wise decision, sir? Our REV will be leading the assault. Everything is riding on him making the breach. Should we be risking the mission on an experimental version of Rev?”
“It’s beyond experimental, captain,” Diamond said, a little testy. “We’ve performed extensive studies on the drug. It’s really a culmination of the changes we been making for the past seven years, since NT-3 became NT-4. That upgrade worked out, as you know. So will this.”