by B. E. Wilson
“Killing useful brain cells, it’s a shame. Toss me one, Hunter,” Brains joined in.
“I know I tortured him, but this…the poor kid,” Bob shook her head laughing as I attempted what I thought was dancing.
“Get it boy, get it,” Motown encouraged me as I started dancing for Bob, shaking my rear end on her knee.
“Now we’re talking. Come to momma,” she said as she playfully swatted my rear.
Oblivious to what was going on, I was enjoying the moment so much that I barely noticed when a young buck private ran through the door and yelled, “Attention—on—deck!”
The speakers screeched as Motown stopped the music.
“Hey!” I slurred, turning around. “Put it back on.”
Bob pushed me off her lap. I staggered forward into Boom, who tried to catch me as I fell.
“Oh shit…hey why’d you do that?” I asked her.
Tipping her head toward the door was the only answer she gave. I crooked my head to see what all the commotion was about. It was the CO. He was standing in the doorway glaring me down.
“Uh-oh,” I chuckled. “I’m…a…busted.”
I don’t think I’d ever seen a sterner look on anyone’s face. For some reason, he reminded me of Sergeant Buckley.
“Really?” he asked. “This man’s inebriated!”
“Sir, I can explain,” Motown said.
“Stow it! Get this man in his rack immediately!” he ordered.
“I’ve got it, sir,” Bob said, leading me away by the hand.
“Ni-ni, everyone. It’s beddy-bed time,” I slurred.
“What a damn disgrace. Every one of you should be ashamed,” he scolded the others as Bob pushed me through the door to the sleeping quarters.
I was unsteady on my feet, unable to find my rack, and I lost Bob somewhere along the way. Flopping down in a rack, not my own, I found her. She was standing in front of the door, which was cracked a few inches open so that she could listen in on the conversation.
Still feeling playful, I wanted to wrestle. I snuck up behind her and attempted to tickle her sides, only to get my knuckles crushed as she grabbed both hands and squeezed.
“Ouch,” I blurted out. “Don’t be so rough.”
“Shhhhh,” she said, loosening her grip but still holding onto my hands, pulling my arms further around her waist.
This is nicer than holding hands with Geraldine Schuster, I thought. The fragrance of her hair enthralled me. She allowed me to hold her while she listened in.
“Men, field exercises are cancelled. We’ve have reports that Oklahoma is lost and we have heavy fighting on the southern border,” the CO said.
“Any activity in our area, sir?” Motown asked.
“There are reports of combatants in our area, south of here. They broke across the line, possibly recon activity. We don’t have all the info at this time.”
“Sir, we haven’t field tested our newest member yet. If he doesn’t get the required field training in, we’ll be a man short,” Hunter said.
“We are fully aware of that, second lieutenant. We have a couple of other teams in the same predicament. We are tossing around the idea of splitting up one team and filling those voids on the other. That’s why I’m here,” he said, taking a seat.
“Whose team?” Motown asked, now seeming annoyed.
“Possibly this one,” the CO said.
I leaned in further to get another whiff of her hair. “You smell wonderful,” I whispered.
“Quiet!” she stoutly whispered back, pulling me in tighter to hold me still.
Motown continued to argue, “Sir, we’re your most senior team. Always combat ready. Alpha team has more time in the Suit than three quarters of the other teams combined.”
“I know Captain, but you’re an aging team. We could use that experience in preparing the others to do what you’ve done.”
“No disrespect, sir,” Hunter butted in, “but that’s absurd.”
“Sir,” Motown said, “Give me the three days to finish training our new guy in the northeast quadrant. The kid’s got potential. We’ve never had a candidate like this, and he could be the one.”
“The one, huh?” the CO asked.
The one…okay, call me whatever you want. I was nuzzling my nose against the back of her head, I don’t know if it was her scent or the beer, but it was powerful.
“He’s never seen any combat, captain, so how can you tell?” the CO quizzed him.
“I can show you,” Brains spoke up.
“Show me what?”
“Here’s his readings as of today,” Brains handed him the laptop. “Each color on the performance chart represents one of us when we started training in the Suit. He’s the black line.”
“He really is off the chart,” the CO said.
“He’s 80 percent higher at melding with his Suit than anyone else here in the facility, or even in the entire history of the suit.”
“That’s amazing. Why hasn’t this information been shared until now, captain?
“Well sir, he hasn’t been field tested yet. He lacks a little self-confidence. We’d like to see what he can do in a tough situation. It’s very much possible that he’s the one we’ve been waiting for.”
I didn’t like hearing that, that I lacked self-confidence. I’ll show them, I thought. I leaned down and kissed Garcia on the neck. At first she didn’t respond, so I kissed her again. This time, with a quick jab of her metal elbow, I was on my knees praying for air.
“I’ll give you your three days. If he makes it, I’ll cancel your orders and send you to San Diego. The alien bastards want it back. There’s some heavy fighting there. If he’s that damn good, your team should have no problem in keeping it.”
“It’s a deal, sir,” Motown said, sticking his hand out to the CO.
Hesitantly shaking it, he agreed, “Deal!”
Garcia picked me up off the deck. “Time for bed lover-boy,” she smirked.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so, so sorry,” I pleaded for forgiveness.
She took my hand and guided me to my rack. I was just thankful it wasn’t her strong arm.
“Try and stand up,” she said, unbuttoning my shirt.
“Please forgive me. Don’t be mad at me,” I drunkenly begged.
Her hands unfastened my belt, unzipping my fly.
“Sit,” she ordered.
Swaying as I tried to turn, I fell backwards, bashing my head again on the upper rack. She laughed loudly at my expense.
“Lift your leg.” She pulled my pants leg off. “And now the other.”
As I sat there drunk and defenseless, she pushed me back into the rack, pulling the blanket up to my chest.
“You’re tucking me in,” I kidded. “Thank you, you’re so nice. You’re too sweet to me.”
“Shut it, Butler, before I drag you out of this bunk and wear you out!”
“I’m sorry, don’t yell at me. I promise I’ll behave.”
“Listen, you just don’t kiss a girl until she wants you to. That was very rude,” she scolded me.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…”
“Quit saying you’re sorry. Shut your drunk ass up for a second.”
“Okay.”
“You need to wait for a sign. She’ll let you know when she wants to kiss you. But until then, don’t think you can take liberties. Do you understand me?”
“What signs am I looking for?” I asked, pouting. I had no idea. I hadn’t really been with a woman.
“This sign,” she said, leaning over and kissing me delicately. Her lips were soft and slightly wet. Warm sensations engulfed my body from my lips down to my toes.
I wished at that moment I had a mirror. My expression after the kiss told the truth about me. I didn’t even realize that it was over and that she was still watching me.
“First kiss?” she kindly asked.
“Is it that obvious?” I asked back, opening my
eyes.
“Yeah, it is. Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” She patted my chest.
Watching as she headed for the door, I called to her, “Rita?”
“Yes, Butler,” smiling as she turned.
“Thanks…for the kiss…and for everything else.”
“I told you when I met you that I’d make you my bitch,” she laughed. “Good night, Butler.”
“Good night.”
16
“Keep your eyes closed, rookie, and—you just—might—not—puke!” Boom jested.
We were latched face down underneath a V-42 Super-Osprey, only a few feet from the non-skid surface of the catapult flight deck. The bird was hooked up and aimed at the hangar doors in the side of the mountain.
“Why can’t we ride inside like normal people?” Brains complained.
“Because we aren’t normal, we’re Marines!” Motown stated proudly.
Two Ospreys abreast, three Suits per plane. It was me, Bob, and Hunter on the right, the others securely fastened underneath the other bird on the left.
“Lock those Suits into place; nobody wants any unnecessary road rash,” Hunter’s voice said over the comms.
“Um…sir?” I called to Hunter.
“Um…what? Playtime’s over. Suck it up, buttercup, we’re about to go flying. Shut your pie-hole and enjoy the ride!”
“But sir?”
“What the fuck is so damn important, Butler? What is your major malfunction?”
“Hunter, sir, how high up are we?” I asked curiously. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was afraid of heights.
“You’ll see in just a few seconds.”
Three red round spheres appeared across the hud inside my helmet. Rita’s voice started counting down, “Launch in 3,” the sphere on the left turned green. “2—1—takeoff.”
The now brightly lit green spheres faded as the Osprey shot off through the hangar like a bullet leaving a gun. The abrasive surface of the nonskid deck turned to a black haze in under a second as we instantly accelerated. The sound of the steam pressure releasing the catapult cable pulling us forward was so loud I could hear it inside my helmet.
And then, my stomach sank as the aircraft left the hangar. It was like the bottom had fallen out from under us. A few seconds of weightlessness set in as the plane dipped down, establishing flight under its own power. Our point of view went from a few feet to a few thousand feet.
“Oh shit!” I said, short of breath.
“Don’t you lose your cookies, Butler! That is an order!” Hunter said.
“Yes si…” was all I could get out before Rita opened my helmet and the remains of last night’s beer drinking found their way into the bright blue sky.
“Oh what a pussy,” Hunter said. “Hunter to Motown, boy wonder’s first flight is a failure.”
“Copy that Hunter, but as I recall, with the exception of Bob, we all puked on our first flight,” he sniggered.
That’s comforting to know. At least I’m not the only one.
“All right, cut the grab-assing. Things are about to get serious. We’re two clicks from our LZ. Weapons ready!”
“Rita, arm weapons,” I ordered the suit.
“Weapons armed,” she complied.
The plane banked right and dove into a valley, following the lead plane.
“Butler! When we give the command to release, adjust your flight so that you’re angled feet first. The moment your feet hit the deck, tuck into a ball and roll. When you start to slow down, dig your arm into some dirt and use it as a brake. Copy?” Motown instructed.
“Sir, won’t that kill me?”
“If you weren’t wearing a Suit…I’d say yes!”
“The chosen one, my ass,” Hunter taunted me.
I wonder what all this ‘chosen’ stuff means. I wish they’d fill me in on what I’m chosen for.
“All right, boys and girls, please put your tray tables in the upright position and…release!” Hunter said, releasing first. His Suit flew effortlessly through the air.
Everybody else released and dropped like rocks being thrown off a bridge.
“How do I release!” I screamed. “Rita, release!”
Looking down, I could see that Motown had already touched down and was skidding to a stop, with Hunter close behind.
“Drop, Butler!” Motown shouted.
“It’s not releasing! What do I do?”
“Were you asleep during pre-flight? Pull the damn straps above your head!”
Two black straps were fluttering in the wind above me, both within arm’s reach. I admit my head was foggy this morning, I only concentrated in getting water into my system as they went over the briefing. I was ashamed and humbled by my own failure to pay attention.
Reaching up, I pulled the straps, and before I knew it I was floating in the air. It seemed like I was actually hurtling toward the earth at breakneck speed. In my confusion, I forgot to get myself into the correct position.
“Get turned around or you’re going to crash!” Motown screamed out over the comms.
At this point, as I nosedived toward Mother Earth I realized that flapping my arms, I could not fly. None of the motions I attempted managed to right my course. I needed to think fast. I took the ax from my hip and cast it. I slung it from behind my head toward my feet, using the momentum to flip over. It almost worked.
“He’s toast,” I heard Boom say.
Landing near the end of the clearing, my backpack was the first part of me to make contact with the ground. Instead of tucking and rolling neatly like the others had, I toppled head over heels, skipping over the difficult terrain. Instead of digging my arm into the ground to slow myself down, I was aided by a few mature trees as I flew into the woods, bouncing around like a steel pinball crashing into the bumpers.
“Damn!” Brains said.
“He’s done for,” Boom chimed in.
Even I thought I was dead; the plasma gel layer that was supposed to protect my fragile human body couldn’t adjust to all the bumps and impacts of the trees.
“Rita, damage report,” I said, wheezing. I felt like I had a few broken ribs as I lay in a pile of rubble I had created.
“Suit armor at eighty-eight percent, releasing nano-bots for repair procedure.”
Awe great, these little fuckers now.
As the bots patched me up, the team made their way over to me. Bob was the first to report.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’ll live,” I responded, humiliated that my first exercise had started off so poorly.
“I’ve got him; target my location,” she said over the comms. “Can you stand?”
“Yeah,” I gasped.
Soon all the rest of them appeared, bounding in over the debris.
“Well we know what your name is now,” Boom said. “It’s definitely ‘Crash.’ Yeah, it’s got to be Crash.”
“Crash Test Dummy gets my vote,” Brains said.
“That’s enough!” Motown cut them off. “As much as I’d like to fuck with him right now, this is still a training exercise. We will perform in a military manner. Butler, are you okay?”
“Yes sir, I’ll be fine.”
“Good. We’ve got twenty clicks to our first camp. Hunter you take point, Bob back him up. Boom, you got the middle with me. Butler, you’re in the back with Brains. Make sure you two are watching our six!”
With marching orders in hand, we proceeded through the valley. Formation was spread out about thirty meters between us.
“Banished to the back of the bus, I see. You know, back in Civil War times, the soldiers that were considered worthless or lazy were banished to the back of the wagon train to ride with the chow wagon. Hence, jack-wagon. Welcome to my world,” Brains said chuckling.
“Wait, but you’re not a fuckup,” I said.
“I know, but this is the first time I’ve ever had company. You might want to step up your game a little, if you catch my drift.”
&
nbsp; I didn’t like that. I had fought to be here, I wanted to be here, and I didn’t want to be at the back of the line looking forward.
“Rita, silent comms.”
“Silent comms, go Drew Butler.”
“Check hydration levels,” I instructed her, as medical levels didn’t appear in my hud readings unless it was a combat situation.
“Hydration at sixty-five percent. Should I administer IV procedure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. IV procedure initiated.”
I felt the nano-bots insert themselves into my left arm. There was a little sting at first when they broke my skin, but I was going to deal with it and not show any more weakness.
The first leg of the exercise was no-frills, Command had nothing set up to test us, and I assumed the airdrop was enough for a first day.
As we reached the first camp, the muffled sound of incoming Ospreys sounded in the distance. Two black dots appeared in the distance, getting larger as they advanced toward our position.
“Here comes dinner. Boom, pop some smoke,” Motown ordered.
Boom lifted his left arm up. A small, dark nozzle protruded out of his index finger, blooming red smoke up into the air as he ran in the helicopters’ direction. As the Ospreys came into full view, six ammo caches and one crate parachuted down, landing about a click south of our position.
“You stay here with Brains,” Motown instructed, I could tell in his tone he was annoyed with my current performance. I felt like a child banished to the kids’ table at Thanksgiving dinner.
“Shake it off, kid, you’ll get better,” Brains tried to console me. “My first jump wasn’t what I’d call…remarkable either.”
I watched as they retrieved the caches, the strength of their Suits on full display. I wanted to jump in and help, carry my own weight, but I felt like the odd man out.
“Get out of your suit,” Hunter said, pointing to my cache as he sat it down.
Putting my back to the cache, I felt it couple, docking me in. I gave the command to Rita to release me, opening the chest armor so that I could escape, climbing upward out of the chest cavity. But no sooner had I set foot back on the ground than a message came from Command. Motown took it privately as we all stood by waiting.