Vorpal Blade (ARC)

by John Ringo

  "Now close your grapping suit and get your game face on, Two-Gun."

  Berg ran through the diagnostics on the suit carefully, exactly as if he hadn't used it six hours before. But everything was in the green. It took about fifteen minutes, nonetheless, by which time Drago, Crow and Sergeant Lovelace were back with the team's weapons.

  "I got it, Drago," Berg said, opening up his suit and stepping out.

  "I know how to mount a grapping Gatling, Two-Gun," Drago said.

  "I'm sure you do," Berg responded. "But it's my ass. Don't you mount your own?"

  "Not if I've got somebody else to do it," Drago said. "But I do watch real careful."

  "I've got it," Berg said, chuckling and hefting the sixty-pound gun into its slot. There were two mount latches and a traverse mechanism to attach and he slapped all of them into place rapidly.

  "You have used these," Drago said, frowning.

  "The new Force Recon Operator's Training is nine weeks long," Berg said. "Three weeks is pure Wyvern. Mark Fours, though. I think they're getting stuff from us and making it sort of Space Marine training. I wondered about the class on physics and astronomy. It was only an hour in the training schedule, but it seemed a little weird. By the way, does anyone know what star we're at?"

  "Maybe we all should go through it," Drago said sourly.

  "Let's just see if we all get home," Berg said, grinning.

  * * *

  He had also loaded his ammo, with help from Lance Corporal Mackey "Candle-Man" Chandler from Alpha team. The Wyvern Mark Five accepted over four thousand rounds of 7.62 mm in its cavernous ammo bin. On the other hand, he could run through that in one minute of continuous fire. Berg wasn't sure the Gatlings were the best choice for their mission, but the things certainly had authority.

  "Attention on deck!" Top bellowed.

  "At ease," the CO said, striding down the missile compartment. "Ready, Charlie?"

  "Ready, sir," Jaen said, still at attention.

  "Glad to hear it," the CO said. "Full sensor sweep. I'm not going to be the only person monitoring. You can bet the Skipper is going to be watching close. Make damned sure there are no threats before you give the all clear. I wanted to send Bravo through after you, but the science team is kicking up a fit so next out is going to be geo. Keep an eye on them but mostly keep your attention outwards. If there's a threat, it's our job to make sure the scientists get back to the ship. Understood?"

  "Understood, sir," Jaen said.

  "Two-Gun, just use the Gatling."

  "Aye-aye, sir!"

  "You guys, make us proud. Semper Fi."

  "Ooh-Rah, sir!" the team chorused.

  "Suit up."

  * * *

  "Go live," Jaen said as they approached the elevator. The CO and Top had followed them and now stood beside the aliglass compartment.

  "Hatt, online," Hattelstad said, arming his cannon.

  "Two-Gun, online."

  "Let's go."

  14

  Excursions and Alarums

  The designated landing area was a broad plain on the east side of one of the islands. The large volcano that had generated the island appeared to be dormant or dead, one of the criteria for landing.

  "Six hundred meters AGL," the pilot said, coming to a hover.

  "Deploy landing jacks," the CO ordered.

  "Deploy jacks, aye," the chief of boat replied, pressing the control.

  Nuclear submarines are not designed to be supported on land. But there was sufficient structural rigidity to them that the Blade could land as long as enough surface area of the underside was supported.

  The landing jacks of the boat, therefore, were eight large self-leveling jacks spaced along the bottom of the sub where a long add-on pod had been installed. When retracted they fit flush into the pod mount. The mount had been extensively tested in both saltwater conditions and atmosphere but everyone assumed that at some point in the mission the combination of space conditions and saltwater was going to shut one or more down. The Blade could level with as few as six, but if she lost more than two, there was no way for her to land on a solid surface.

  "Jacks one through eight report down and ready," the COB said.

  "Descend three meters per second to fifty meters, one meter per second thereafter," the CO said.

  "Three meters per second to fifty meters, one meter per second to touchdown," the pilot replied.

  The boat drifted downwards somewhat faster than a feather until there was a slight shudder and it settled at a slight tilt.

  "Jacks report contact," the COB said. "Holding."

  "Disengage drive," the CO said.

  The boat settled slightly more as the full weight came on the jacks.

  "Jacks report full weight in local gravity," COB replied.

  "Level."

  The COB pressed the auto switch and the boat shifted back and forth, finally settling on an even keel.

  "Jacks leveled and locked."

  "Touchdown complete," the CO said. "Boo-yah, baby. Gentlemen, we are sitting on the surface of a different planet. XO: Planetary survey SOP."

  * * *

  Ground Lock Two was a converted Momsen lock. Momsens were escape hatches, designed for the crew to exit the submarine in the event of an underwater emergency. Called "Mom" hatches by the crew, none had ever been used successfully. But when families were given tours of the boat the crew could point to the hatch and say: "See, Mom, if anything goes wrong we can get out that way."

  The lock, which was already oriented downward, had been converted into an elevator capable of holding three Wyverns or five unsuited individuals. In this case it held Jaenisch, Bergstresser and Hattelstad. While Dr. Dean had argued strenuously that he should be the first person to set foot on "his" world, the SOP for planetary survey was fixed: Security went out first.

  On boarding, the first step had been decontamination. Just as nobody wanted to bring some alien bug on the boat, the egghead and diplomat consensus was that the reverse was also the case. The elevator was first flushed with air, then pumped full of water with a caustic agent in it. Then the suits were dried. It took about five boring minutes to start descending.

  There wasn't much conversation as the circular aliglass elevator exited the boat and lowered to the ground. The team had trained for this moment and each man knew his job. So they were just really hoping they didn't grapp up.

  As soon as the elevator grounded, Jaenisch slid back the door and stepped out, striding ten meters forward in his Wyvern and taking a knee, the mounted 7.62mm Gatling gun tracking back and forth in search of threats.

  Hattelstad followed, moving to his right and turning right rear, with Bergstresser looking left rear.

  "Full scan," Jaenisch ordered, changing the input parameters of the primary camera. First he scanned through the full electromagnetic spectrum, starting in deep infrared and scaling up all the way to X rays. Then he switched to secondary particles and waves. Nothing. "Watch this light gravity. You can jump the Wyverns in this and lose control."

  "Anybody got anything on passive?" Jaenisch asked.

  "Nada," Hattelstad said.

  "Got a bunch of stuff coming out of the boat," Bergstresser said. "Grapping quarkium drive's got me whited out that way. Other than that, nada."

  "Go active," Jaenisch said, switching on his radar and multifrequency lidar. A full sweep by the trio showed nothing but volcanic rock and some sort of red vegetation down by the seashore. If there was anything there, it was invisible to Earth and Adar tech sensors.

  "Blade, this is Alpha Team," Jaenisch said. "We have zero signs of threat."

  * * *

  "Send out one more team of security," the CO said. "Then the survey teams. Tell the eggheads they're just going to have to wait. No offense, Commander Weaver."

  "None taken, sir," Bill replied.

  "And, yes, you can go out, too," the CO added. "Take that SEAL with you."

  "Yes, sir," Bill replied. "Thank you, sir."

 
; "I'm not going to sit here with you bouncing around the compartment," the CO said with a grin. "Which you would be if I didn't let you out of the boat."

  "We need to lay in a full seismic survey," Dr. Dean said as Runner slid open the doors of the elevator. "And a random survey of the rock surface. When are we getting the drill?"

  "It's being assembled right now, Doctor," Runner said, holding out one arm of the Wyvern. "Sir, you need to follow us."

  "Very well," Dean said impatiently. "Play your silly games. But head inland as we exit. I want to get up to where the rocks haven't been disturbed by the Marines."

  "Security, Geo Two," Runner said. "We're headed up to the hills inland. Dr. Dean requests that the Marines not 'disturb' the rocks before we get there."

  The voice-activated system automatically transferred the call to the ground force commander.

  "Understood, Geo," Captain MacDonald replied dryly. "I'll try to keep my boys from messing anything up."

  * * *

  "This is one mothergrapping cold ball of ice," Miller said. He swiveled the head of the Wyvern to look around, then started dancing sideways.

  The Mark V Wyvern was a significant upgrade over the Mark IIIs that were the last Miller had used. But they still had some issues. He swore the Adar had made them more likely to disco. At least for him.

  "Oh, it's not all that bad," Weaver argued. "I mean, it doesn't look like much right now . . ."

  Miller got the feedback loop under control and overrode the "head" controls to pan around in a 360.

  The volcanic island wasn't a complete loss. Throw in about thirty C of temperature, some palm trees and . . . well just about everything and it would make a hell of a resort.

  The shore was almost pure lava rock. Indeed, most of the vista was lava rock. That which wasn't a crashing sea. With no continental landforms, the waves had thousands of miles to build up steam and some of them were nearly two hundred meters high. And the winds that drove them were high. The two humans probably couldn't have stood against the gale if it wasn't for the Wyverns.

  More Wyverns were spread out across the rocky terrain, though. The planetology and biology teams were out collecting samples. On the outer perimeter the Wyverns of the Marine security were hunkered down and looking for threats. Threats were pretty unlikely in Miller's opinion, but the Dreen had turned up in some damned unlikely places. All they needed was a little biosphere and they were in like flint.

  There was some vegetation. Red tendrils straggled up from the edge of the incredible surf. Some of them had flowerlike heads that waved in the howling wind.

  "Don't look like much is putting it mildly," Miller said. "Although I could probably do a nice arrangement with some of those flowers . . ."

  "You SEALs never look up," Weaver said.

  Miller toggled the override and looked up.

  "Okay," he said about a minute later. "You've got a point."

  E Eridani Beta was a striped gas giant with the striations of massive winds and storms rippling its gaseous surface in a dozen colors. Hovering overhead, it was the dominating feature of the sky.

  But while it dominated, it wasn't the only thing in the clear sky. At least a half a dozen lesser moons were in view, moving fast enough to track. They reflected the light of the planet, and with their own varied surfaces they were a rainbow of color in the sky.

  Last but not least, there was a thin, very dark, ring around the planet, close in.

  All in all, it was a spectacular sight.

  "I mean, there could be intelligent life," Weaver argued.

  "Yep, there it is, right there," Miller said, pointing.

  "Where?" Weaver asked, excitedly.

  "Them flowers," Miller said. "Smartest things on this planet. They finally crawled out of the water, looked around, went 'Maulk, this is one mothergrapping cold ball of ice of a planet' and devolved back to flowers. I know that if I developed consciousness on this planet, I'd lose it as fast as possible. Through repeated blows to the head if necessary."

  * * *

  "Alpha Team," Lieutenant Berisford said. "Geo is heading up to the hills. They have requested that you not 'mess anything up' but I want you to move up there and cover them. Ensure the security of Dr. Dean especially. In the event of emergency, screen their retreat. Charlie, I want you moving to a secondary position. Bravo, you're with me in reserve."

  "Let's move," Jaenisch said, bounding into a run.

  "They don't want us in front of them, Jaen," Berg pointed out.

  "Got that," Jaen said. "We'll vector left. Head for that cluster of boulders. In the event we have to screen them, that's our assembly area."

  "Got that," Hatt said. "I don't see much to screen them from."

  "Nothing on any of the passive sensors," Berg pointed out.

  "Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there," Jaen said. "Space Marines, remember?"

  * * *

  "Lichenlike growths," Julia said, kneeling the suit and flipping out a sample probe. The science suits had specialized sampling tools attached to the right "hand" of the suit. She used a scraper to pick up some of the growth off the rocks and slid it into a sample tube.

  "Do you want to check out that red stuff?" Master Sergeant Ed Bartlett asked. The Bio Team Leader gestured towards the shoreline where massive waves hammered what was apparently a high cliff. The waves looked to be a couple of hundred feet high and the spray flew up higher than the boat.

  "If we do, we're going to have to be careful," Julia said. "It looks worse than Antarctica. You slip, boy, and I'm not sure we're going to be able to find you."

  "Noted," Ed said. "But we are going to have to get a sample, right?"

  "Yes," Julia said, standing up. "But first we need to do random sampling of the area to see what sort of microgrowth is on the rocks. Then we sample out from the boat. Then we go down and see our little red friends. Frankly, I think we should be looking for a more lively world, instead, but I suppose you would call this 'good training.' "

  * * *

  "Grapp," Hattelstad said as his Wyvern went airborne.

  Dr. Dean had, apparently, collected his samples and was now headed back to the ship.

  Charlie had been crouched in a cluster of boulders watching for a threat that never came for a good six hours. So they were ready to head back. As soon as the science party was halfway down the hill they had bounded out to "screen their retreat." At which point the reduced gravity had struck.

  Moving in reduced gravity was always difficult. It was possible, if you were careful, to get more speed out of the armor by "bounding," taking long strides that were impossible in Earth's gravity well. It worked well on flat ground and could be done on hills. But you had to be careful.

  In Hatt's case, he'd taken one bound just a bit too far. He'd intended to hit a flat spot and instead intersected a boulder. His right leg went out from under him and for just a moment he was airborne. Then he slammed onto his back.

  "Grapp," he repeated.

  "Like I said, watch the gravity," Sergeant Jaenisch said, coming to a crouch near the fallen suit. Berg landed on the other side, tracking back the way they came.

  "Charlie, status?" the platoon leader called.

  "Just a slip, sir," Jaen replied as Hatt got to his feet.

  The Wyverns would have been impossible to get out of a position on their backs were it not for the design of the arms. While the human arm could not wrench behind its back with any strength, the Wyvern "arm" could. So Hatt simply slid his arm behind his back and flexed, rolling the Wyvern onto its stomach. From there, it was just a matter of pushing himself to his feet.

  "Slick move, grease," Berg said. "I suggest a new team name."

  "Turtle?" Jaen asked.

  "I was thinking Grease," Berg said. "But Turtle works."

  "Grapp you, rookie," Hatt said.

  "Methinks the lance corporal is offended," Berg said.

  "Methinks the lance corporal has point," Jaen replied. "Let's move."


  "Charlie, move east and screen bio team. Same deal, don't mess anything up."

  "Seems like we always get point," Hatt said.

  "Shut up and move."

  * * *

  "Well, that was a whole lot of nothing," Jaen said, rolling into his rack with a sigh. "Twelve grapping hours in a Wyvern with nothing to look at but rock. What grapping fun."

  "View was cool," Berg said.

  "Some of us weren't looking at the pretty planet," Hattelstad said sourly.

  "Then you weren't looking for aerial threats," Jaen snapped. "Yes, the view was cool. But I could wish they'd pulled us off in less than twelve hours. Man, I'm whacked. I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that he hit the closure on his rack and opaqued it.

  "I'm for bed," Berg said, stripping out of his skinsuit. The blacksuit stank to high heaven and they were only issued one. He put the suit in a zipper-lock bag and stuffed it away in a compartment. "Damn, laundry's not till the end of the week."

  "Stuff a nannie pack in with it," Drago said, leaning out of his bunk. "It'll be fresh as a daisy tomorrow."

  "Really?" Berg asked.

  "Really, Two-Gun," Drago said. "I guess we've all got things to learn."

  "Thanks, man," Berg said, pulling the suit back out. He slid a nannie napkin into the bag and sealed the whole thing back up.

  "De nada, man," Drago said. "We were getting tired of the smell, anyway."

  Berg chuckled and sealed his bunk, lying back with his arms folded on his chest. Then he reached up and turned up the circulator before getting out another nannie nap. He was getting tired of the smell, too, but his next shower cycle wasn't until day after tomorrow. He rubbed down in the confined quarters, then doused the light.

  It had been a long day.

  * * *

  "Dr. Dean is busy trying to assimilate all the data we've collected," Dr. Beach said, smiling faintly. "So I have asked Master Sergeant Runner to present the planetology report on Dean's World."

  The post-survey meeting was taking place in orbit, everyone having decided that even space was a more hospitable place than "Dean's World." The wardroom was crowded with the boat's senior officers, most of the heads of the science team, Miriam and Mimi. The latter two had turned up and, respectively, charmed and assumed their way into the meeting.