“You guys okay?” Angel asked.
“Is that Lieutenant Murphy inside that bug suit?” Cashman asked.
“The one and only.”
“We’re a bit gassed, I suppose,” the staff sergeant admitted. “We got a little carried away in the suits this morning.”
“I understand completely. I think the nature of the suit somehow fools our bodies and we don’t realize how hard we’re pushing ourselves.”
“The smart helmet will automatically monitor your vitals, which should help you avoid that,” Sozu said.
“We’ll be fine, just need a minute to adjust,” Cashman said.
“Improvise, adapt, overcome,” Ruiz chanted.
The other marines said Oorah! in perfect unison.
“Let’s get to the course,” Sozu said.
The new course was set up inside a large hangar. It looked to Angel like a human-sized hamster maze. There were hoops, barriers, and tunnels that sloped up and down. Some obstacles were to avoid, others were to reach or pass through. Angel walked the course with Lieutenant Commander Sozu while her techs set up the monitoring equipment.
Once the commander was back in the control booth, Angel waited at the beginning of the obstacle course. It was different from the course she had run in basic training. It felt more like a gymnastics competition. She could feel her nerves, but she had a lot of practice settling herself down. Unlike the previous test with the ARC suit’s thrusters, she would have to tumble and use her gymnastic skills to complete the new course. And there would be cameras set up along the way to record her movements, as well as her time. The entire thing was really about control, Angel realized. Her time was important, but without the suit the course would be almost impossible to get through and she was the first person to attempt the course, which meant there were no other times to compare hers with. It was a test of the suit’s abilities and how much she could control the rapid movement the ARC was built to achieve. It wouldn’t do for her to bounce around the course like a pinball in a giant arcade machine.
“Alright, Lieutenant, do you read me?” Sozu asked using the comlink from her booth.
“Loud and clear,” Angel said.
“Good. Let’s activate your thrusters and check your systems one last time.”
“Copy that,” Angel said.
She used the facial gestures to navigate her helmet’s menu until she came to the thruster safety icon. When she activated the Rapid Assist component of her suit a chime sounded and the words THRUSTERS ACTIVE lit up in red at the bottom of her vision.
“Alright, Lieutenant,” Sozu said. “Here’s the countdown to begin the course. Three, two, one, go!”
Angel dashed forward. The first obstacle was a five foot wall, which she easily bounded over without needing help from the thrusters. The next obstacle was an elevated barrier with only three feet of clearance at the floor. Angel turned her jump into a dive, tucking and rolling easily under the barrier. As she came to her feet the course turned ninety degrees but with two and half meters of space, she easily made the turn. She had yet to use the thrusters, but was coming up on a bell that was hanging four meters over her head. She jumped, activating the thrusters in mid-leap, which carried her up high enough that she could extend her hand and ring the bell.
The course went on, with tunnels and barriers. Angel was delighted by the fact that she had no trouble progressing through the obstacles. The suit was powerful and intuitive. It wasn’t like a floor routine, but more like navigating a crowded street. She had no trouble seeing the obstacles and activating the thrusters in time. By the halfway point she was learning to let the assisted power of the ARC suit do most of the work for her.
When she came to a set of concentric rings she threw herself into the air, using the thrusters to carry her forward into a front salto as she tucked her head down and pulled her knees in tight to her chest to sail effortlessly through the center ring without touching the hula hoop-sized obstacle. Just beyond the rings was another barrier with space for her at the bottom. She had to thrust back down to the floor. Landing on her feet from four meters in the air should have sent jolts of pain up through her legs, stressing her knees and hips, but instead the impact-resistant fibers of the suit took the brunt of the landing. Angel was reminded of jumping from a high dive and landing on the bottom of the swimming pool on her feet, before launching herself back up through the water. Only instead of launching herself up, she dropped forward and used the thrusters to hover inches from the ground as she sailed forward and under the low opening of the barrier. Then, planting her hands firmly on the ground, she kicked upward into a handspring. As soon as she was upright again she had to hit the left thrusters, which propelled her swiftly at a ninety degree angle. She twisted in midair and hit the ground running.
The entire course took four minutes, eighteen seconds. She was barely even winded when she finished, and walked back to the staging area. Petty Officer Rhonda Daniels was waiting and began a visual inspection of her ARC suit. Angel found it a little odd to have someone poking and prodding her. She couldn’t help but feel self-conscious in the tight-fitting combat suit.
“That was excellent, Lieutenant,” Sozu said via the comlink. “We’ll take ten and then run the course again.”
“Roger that, Commander,” Angel said.
“Hell of a run,” Cashman said as he and the other members of his team formed up around her. “Mind if we ask a few questions?”
“Fire away, Staff Sergeant,” Angel said.
“How long do you think you could keep that up?” Cashman asked.
“Easily twice as long,” Angel said. “The suit makes it much less intense than it would otherwise be.”
“Any chance you could do it carrying a weapon?” Gunnery Sergeant Bolton asked.
“Depends on the weapon,” Angel said. “I could do most of it with a TA 71. It helps to have your hands free, but the thrusters do most of the work.”
“It would be better if we could test the suit on the actual creatures they’re made for,” Hays spoke up in his ambling tone. “I’d just as soon blast the sons a bitches than dance around them.”
“We all have our orders,” Cashman said. “And whatever we’re ordered to do, we’ll make it work. We always do.”
“Do you have orders?” Angel asked.
“Nothing official yet,” Cashman said. “But some friends are being called up. There’s talk of a big task force being assembled. My bet is we’ll be on a flight up soon. And if we’re going to be fighting the swarm, I’d prefer to have a weapon.”
“Maybe we could mount one here,” Petty Officer Rhonda Daniels said, patting the top of her abdomen.
“What are you thinking?” Cashman asked.
“Magnets maybe?” Corporal Vancini said.
“Not a big one,” Daniels said. “But a dozen or so small ones might work. We’d have to reconfigure the flechettes. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll get you a list of recommended firearms,” Cashman said.
“And their specs,” Bolton added.
“Lieutenant Murphy,” Sozu interrupted from the control booth. “We’re ready for you to go again.”
“Looks like it’s go time!” Ruiz said.
“Give ’em hell, LT,” Hays said.
“Thanks,” Angel said, before moving past the group toward the starting line.
She wasn’t tired, or even nervous anymore. The course was actually fun, unlike the obstacle course at basic training. She knew with a little more practice she could get through the course much faster. She already had ideas for moves that might shave time off her run. But even though she was preparing to navigate the obstacle course, in the back of her mind a new desire was taking shape. If the special forces team was going to ship out, she didn’t want to be left behind. She enjoyed testing the ARC suit, but she couldn’t help but feel a stronger connection to the marines she was training. Perhaps it was the sense of being part of a team that she had such fond memories of aft
er years of competing. Or maybe she was simply a woman responding to six strong, alpha males. She didn’t like to think that she was having a crush, but couldn’t deny that she felt a connection to Staff Sergeant Jonathan Cashman. He was a professional, and had an air of confidence that was different than anyone she had ever met. It was very attractive, but she couldn’t deny that he was nearly a decade older than she was. Perhaps their ages weren’t important, but she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, she just didn’t want to be left behind.
21
Camp Oppenheimer, CSF Research & Development Center, 80 miles east of Stillwater, Nevada, U.S.A.
“This is very impressive,” Fleet Admiral Basil Jennings said.
“The applications are staggering,” Corps Commandant Heinrich Fuller added. “I can envision every marine in the corps in a suit like that.”
“Let’s keep in mind the cost,” Colonel Jakobson said. “The impact-resistant fabric costs millions and the seven ARC suits we have took nearly a year to fabricate.”
“Lieutenant Murphy handles herself well,” Marshal General Allison Sinclare said. “But what are the others doing?”
They were watching the footage of Angela Murphy running the ARC obstacle course. She looked strong, graceful, and incredibly fast.
“They haven’t had as much time in the suits as Lieutenant Murphy,” Jakobson admitted. “They are adjusting.”
“What does that mean?” Fuller asked.
“It means that while the marines are capable, they don’t have the gymnastic background that Lieutenant Murphy has,” Sinclare said. “I imagine they are suffering from vertigo?”
“It has been reported,” Jakobson said. “They have no problems moving in the suit, but they aren’t as fast, or as agile as the lieutenant. Commander Sozu believes that given enough time they will be proficient in the ARC suits. Staff Sergeant Cashman is adapting much more quickly than the rest of his team.”
“So, when the task force makes the jump we might have one pilot ready to engage the swarm?” Sinclare asked.
“I’m sure the fire team will be ready when they’re needed,” Fuller argued.
“They were needed weeks ago,” Jennings said. “And we can’t afford to send in pilots who’ll just get slaughtered because they aren’t ready. We’ll have to send Lieutenant Murphy on the task force.”
“Sir, that’s not what I promised when we recruited her,” Jakobson said. “I gave my word that she would be stationed planetside.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jennings said.
“She’s a marine, she’ll adapt and do whatever she’s ordered,” Commandant Fuller proclaimed.
“She’s too valuable as a trainer with the ARC program to risk losing her.”
“And when will the next batch of suits be ready?” the fleet admiral asked.
“Production has already begun. Estimates are the rough suits will be ready for fitting in four months.”
“Good God, man!” Jennings snarled. “We could lose another colony world in four months. The damn bugs could be on their way to Earth if we don’t find a way to stop them.”
“How many suits will be ready in the next batch?” Sinclare asked.
“Eight,” Jakobson replied. He didn’t flinch when the fleet admiral began shouting curses. The reaction was expected, and while he was the messenger, he wasn’t directly in charge of the ARC program. A small fortune had already been allocated to Lieutenant Commander Sozu’s program, which was just in its infancy.
“We can’t afford to have our best pilot sitting on her ass while the swarm consumes another world,” Jennings said. “Put her in charge of Cashman’s team and the techs they need to keep the ARC suits running at optimal capacity. We’ll designate them a special operations platoon. Who do we have tapped to run the ground operations?”
“Colonel Hale,” Fuller said. “He’s our top tactician. He’ll coordinate the ground forces and air force support.”
“Excellent,” Jennings said. “Send him a full report on the ARC program. I want that team on Neo Terra as soon as the task force is on station.”
“What about the reports from Alpha One?” Sinclare asked.
“If what we’re seeing really is another swarm,” Jennings said, “we’ll divert forces, but so far there isn’t a report of a swarm.”
“Alpha One doesn’t have the surveillance coverage Neo Terra has,” Sinclare added. “Their birds are monitored by civilians and tasked to watch the weather, not search for threats on the ground.”
“We’re doing all we can do,” Jennings said. “We’ve never had a threat of this magnitude. All our conflict analysis forecasted an enemy in space. We don’t have enough ground forces to cover both planets. By the time we recruit and train enough marines Neo Terra and Alpha One will be lost.”
“So this has to work,” Fuller said. “My guys will get the job done, Admiral. You can bank on that.”
“The ARC suits are formidable, but let’s be clear,” Sinclare said. “We don’t know if they will work against the swarm. The entire concept is based on a guess. We have no hard data to support the supposition that the swarm is a true hive mind, or that a marine in the ARC suit will be able to disrupt the queen’s control of the drones. Even if it works we don’t know what the outcome will be. We can’t even keep tabs on the creatures.”
“There has been an update on that,” Jakobson said. “Lieutenant Commander Paula Mercer dropped a non-lethal warhead near the swarm on Neo Terra at dusk with a substance called iodine containing contrast medium. It’s used by doctors to take x-rays of internal structures. They had a dozen or so gallons of the stuff in the medical stores on board the Ramses. The ICCM hit the deck just after we lost visual contact with the swarm, but the aliens consumed it and our satellites picked up the substance on infrared.”
“You’re saying we can track the swarm?” Jennings said.
“Hell man, you could have led with that information,” Fuller snapped.
“Actually, it was a temporary measure,” Jakobson said. “The contrast medium only stayed in their system for about thirteen hours. It was long enough that we were able to keep tabs on the hive through the night, but the Ramses only had enough for the single bombardment. We have a team from R&D working on a more effective substance which we’re hoping will be ready to ship with the task force.”
“When does the armada leave the system?” Jennings said.
“We’re five days out, sir,” Fuller said.
“Get orders sent to the ARC group,” Jennings said. “I want them on board when the Apollo leaves the system. And assign whatever resources are needed to get that contrast medium ready. One way or another we have to stop this threat, before it’s too late.
22
Camp Oppenheimer, CSF Research & Development Center, 80 miles east of Stillwater, Nevada, U.S.A.
“Man down. Man down,” Hays shouted. “Ruiz is past the legal limit.”
“This isn’t a joke, Corporal,” Lieutenant Murphy said.
“Hays, reel that shit back in,” Cash ordered, relieved that his smart helmet covered his face so that Murphy couldn’t see his embarrassment.
“Yes sir, staff sergeant!”
“Van, BJ, get Ruiz off the course,” Cash said.
He was frustrated with their lack of progress. The ARC suits were the most amazing tech he’d ever seen or even heard about. Most mechanized suits were huge, clunky robotic machines. They were tanks on two legs, with lots of heavy armor and big guns. The ARC suits were more like body armor, only they transformed the wearer into a super soldier. Cash couldn’t wait to take on another special forces fire team in a mock confrontation, but just getting through the obstacle course was proving nearly impossible.
Lieutenant Murphy made it seem so easy. She was graceful and agile, faster than any man had a right to be. She could flip and tumble her way through the obstacle course in slightly over three minutes without touching a single barrier. His fire team on the other hand looked clumsy.
The thrusters had been adjusted multiple times, but Ruiz and Bolton were hopeless. They couldn’t stay on their feet or make the necessary body adjustments, even after training with Lieutenant Murphy for nearly two weeks.
“Don’t worry, they’ll get it,” she said. “They just need a little more time.”
At that very moment an icon beeped in Cash’s smart helmet. He was still adjusting to the facial controls, and it took him a few seconds to activate the message it contained. Orders popped up on his HUD, and once again he wanted to curse. It never failed that his superiors expected his team to be ready in half the time they actually needed.
“Well, it looks like we’ll be cutting playtime short today,” Cash said.
“Hang on,” Lieutenant Murphy said. “I just got a message.”
Cash popped the seals on his helmet and pulled it from his head, then tugged the balaclava back from his face, settling it around his neck.
“Listen up, team,” he said, loudly enough for the other five men in his squad to hear him. “We’ve been called up. Pack your gear and be on the flight line in one hour.”
“Yes, Staff Sergeant,” the all said in unison.
“Wait for a moment,” Murphy said. “Lieutenant Commander Sozu is coming.”
The door to the elevated control room on the back wall of the hangar where the ARC training course was set up burst open. The small researcher was livid as she came hurrying over to where Cash and Angela Murphy were waiting.
“You can’t!” she demanded. “Those are my suits, my work. You can’t just take them.”
Cash looked at Lieutenant Murphy who was fumbling with her helmet.
“We just follow orders, ma’am,” Cash said. “Mine say to report to the C.S.F. Apollo with our ARC suits.”
“You aren’t ready,” the naval researcher snapped. “Your men are nowhere near ready.”
“I suppose that’s why I’ve been called up,” Murphy said. “I can continue working with them.”
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