ARC Angel (ARC Angel Series Book 1)

by Toby Neighbors

  Major Dixon was in charge of the special op groups and Colonel Connor Hale was the commander for the marine battalion. Angel felt self-conscious wearing her uniform. She had a single silver bar on her collar, and a lone marksmanship ribbon on her chest. Never in her life had she felt so ill prepared, but when the transport finally docked with the Apollo she found Major Dixon waiting for her.

  “You must be second Lieutenant Murphy,” he said without smiling as he returned her salute.

  “Yes sir, reporting for duty with Staff Sergeant Cashman and our ARC suits,” Angel said.

  “Very well,” Dixon said. “Staff Sergeant, it’s good to see you again. I thought you might have gotten soft down in Nevada. Did you make it out to sin city?”

  “No sir, we were pretty busy,” Cashman said.

  “Pity,” Dixon said. “Well, get this gear stowed, then join the rest of your platoon in ready room 287. I trust you can find your way?”

  “Yes sir!” Cashman replied.

  Dixon nodded then turned and made his way out of the hangar with Angel walking quickly to keep up. They entered a long hallway, then took a lift up two floors. Angel did her best to take everything in. The ship had six levels, each labeled from the top down, alpha through foxtrot. On delta, she saw mostly officers. They passed doors with company names and staff offices. Dixon led Angel into a suite of offices surrounding a single reception room.

  “Murphy, this is Staff Sergeant Callahan,” Dixon said, introducing a woman behind a large desk. “She keeps Spec Ops on our toes. This is your office. You’re the junior officer of this company, and your ARC team is highly specialized, so bear with us if we take a minute to figure out how you fit in exactly.”

  Her office was barely larger than a utility closet. There was one small desk and a swivel chair that was bolted to the deck. Visitors would be forced to stand, and three people would make the tiny space claustrophobic.

  “Yes sir, of course,” Angel said.

  He turned and led her into the room behind Staff Sergeant Callahan’s desk.

  “This is my office,” Dixon said, leading Angel into a much larger space than her own tiny office. The major’s desk was big and imposing, as was his large executive chair and the video screen behind it. The screen looked like a window, and showed the exterior of the ship and outer space beyond the Apollo. Dixon moved to his seat and waved for Angel to sit in one of the comfortable guest chairs.

  “You look young,” he said, unapologetically. “And your service record is almost non-existent. You mind telling me how you landed an officer commission? I wouldn’t normally ask, but this task force is going into harm’s way and I need to know everything I can about the officers serving under me.”

  “I don’t mind,” Angel said. “I was recruited specifically for the ARC program.”

  “Why don’t you tell me more about the program. All I know is that the brass bent over backward to make sure your group was on this task force.”

  “Yes sir. ARC stands for Assisted Rapid Combat. The suits allow us to move very quickly. The idea is that we will disrupt the swarm by not moving in straight lines.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get some sort of official report, but I’m not really seeing how that helps us on this mission.”

  Angel pulled a small fob from her pocket.

  “I got this from one of the lab techs that Lieutenant Commander Hikari Sozu sent with us. It has video footage of the ARC suit in action.”

  Dixon took the fob and plugged it into a port built into his desk. The surface of the desk, which was empty, lit up and played the video footage. The major leaned forward, staring down at the video display. His eyes grew wide as he watched Angel flipping and tumbling through the ARC obstacle course.

  “This is impressive,” Dixon said. “I take it you had some training before being recruited into the service.”

  “I trained as a gymnast for twelve years,” Angel said. “I was a professional for the last six.”

  “That makes perfect sense. And Staff Sergeant Cashman’s squad can do this?” Dixon asked, waving at the video that was still playing on his desk top.

  “No sir, not yet,” Angel admitted. “Staff Sergeant Cashman is doing the best, but they’re having trouble adapting to the rapid directional changes the suit enables them to do. They can perform most of the moves you see me doing in the video, but putting them together is proving difficult.”

  “I would imagine so,” he replied, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his face. “How long have you been training with this equipment?”

  “Almost two weeks,” Angel said.

  “Well good goddamn! Two weeks? And they thought you’d be ready to do something?”

  “I suppose so, sir,” Angel said. “We can continue training if we can find the space.”

  “I doubt that’s going to be necessary,” Dixon said with a frown. “Colonel Hale has a battle plan in place that doesn’t include spec ops. His battalion will be defending the city, and we’ll be relegated to the smaller community clusters and farms nearby strictly as reserves. I doubt we’ll see any action, Lieutenant. For now, keep your people focused and ready. Don’t get in the way and learn as much as you can. Officer training is great for learning ranks and leadership theories, but nothing prepares you like experience. I don’t mean to sound patronizing, but you’re a junior officer with an experimental squad.”

  Angel wanted to say more, to argue for a greater role, but she realized she didn’t even know what was going on. And if she was honest her team wasn’t ready to carry out what the ARC suits had been designed to do.

  “I’ll do my best, Major,” she said, standing up.

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Lieutenant. Get settled in, check on your people, then meet back here at 1800. We have a mission briefing at 1830, but I want everyone in my company on the same page. Staff Sergeant Callahan will have your berth assignment.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, coming to attention and saluting.

  Major Dixon returned the salute without getting up from his desk. Angel couldn’t help but feel disappointed. If he had said she was the key to victory she would have been petrified, but it wouldn’t have been as bad as feeling like the odd man out once again. She hated feeling as if she were merely being tolerated. The last three years of her gymnastics career she had been treated like she didn’t belong, if not by the coach or her teammates, then by most of the parents.

  She stepped out of the major’s office, doing her best not to look disappointed. Staff Sergeant Callahan smiled up from her small reception desk.

  “I have your flex pad, Lieutenant,” she said. “And you’ll be in the officers’ quarters on deck Echo.”

  “Thank you,” Angel said, taking the hand held data pad.

  She had heard of flex pads, but she’d never had one of her own. It was larger than her phone, with a tough rubber bumper around the edges of the screen. It wasn’t rigid like most data pads, and could be attached around a forearm or thigh. The rubber bumper made it too thick to fold but otherwise it was almost like a sheet of paper. The flex pads were the informational tether for the CSF, but unlike traditional data pads or other smart devices, the flex pads were almost impossible to destroy and light enough to carry into combat. She would have to get hers set up as soon as possible.

  She slipped into her office and closed the door. It took her several deep breaths before she could calm down enough to sit at her desk. Her nerves were on edge and while she didn’t like the advice Major Dixon had given her, she decided she would take it. There was plenty for her to learn. It was her first official deployment, and if she was being honest with herself, she felt like a child playing soldier. She would watch, she would learn, and most of all, she would stay out of the way.

  25

  C.S.F. Apollo, task force Olympus

  Mars Orbit, Sol System

  “This is bullshit!” Ruiz said. “The first real combat in years and we’re being sidelined.”

  “That’s the
word among the NCOs,” Cash said. “Spec ops will cover secondary settlements while Colonel Hale engages the swarm.”

  “Such bullshit!” Ruiz complained.

  “What are you whining about,” Van said. “You can’t go two minutes in your ARC suit without falling on your ass. You look like a drunken monkey, dude.”

  “Drunken monkey,” BJ said with a chuckle.

  “It won’t matter,” Bolton said. “We’ll just be babysitting a bunch of farmers and inbred shopkeepers. Hale never served special forces. He’s a climber.”

  “Better to keep that to yourself,” Cash said. “It doesn’t pay to insult officers, no matter what you think of them.”

  “So we’re just going to sit this one out?” Hays asked.

  “From what I was told,” Cash explained. “We’ll all be deployed. That means we’ll have time for training once we’re on station.”

  “Great, more gymnastics,” Ruiz said. “You know I didn’t sign up to be a test subject. I came to kick ass and take names.”

  “You signed up because you were too dumb to know what you were doing,” Van said.

  “And we all follow orders,” Cash said. “We’ll do what we’re told and be ready for anything. No one knows what motivates the swarm. From what I hear they can’t even be tracked at night. There’s no telling what kind of shitstorm we’ll be dropped into. So when that time comes we’ll be ready.”

  “The kiddie LT coming with us?” Ruiz asked.

  “Don’t talk about Lieutenant Murphy that way,” Cashman said. “It’s not her fault she’s young.”

  “Oh, Ruiz like’s ’em young,” Hays teased.

  “And you will clamp down on that gutter mouth right now, Corporal!” Cash ordered. “Don’t you nitwits see that we’re going into an unknown combat zone in untested, experimental gear. If we don’t pull together we might not make it back and that is unacceptable. Are you reading me?”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant,” the other five men said in unison.

  “Good, because I don’t plan on losing anyone. So see to yourselves and don’t get cute with anyone. I mean that, Ruiz. No fighting, I don’t care what anyone says about us. We are going to keep our heads down, stay sharp, and make no trouble on this op.”

  “I get goose bumps all over when he talks like that,” Van said.

  “You are a strange person, Vancini,” Ruiz said.

  “Let’s get those weapons stowed,” Gunnery Sergeant Bolton said. “Before someone else comes in and claims all the storage lockers.”

  They were in a mixed barracks, which was essentially a long room with small beds built in nooks along either of the long walls. There were three bunks stacked one on top of the other, and ten stacks of bunks along each wall, for a total of sixty berths. The lab techs who were in charge of servicing the special forces team’s ARC suits were aghast at the close quarters.

  Lieutenant Murphy came in, as they were stowing the last of their weapons and setting the numeric lock. BJ saw her first and tapped Cash on the shoulder. He looked up and then snapped to attention.

  “Ten hut! Officer on deck,” Cash said.

  The other members of the squad stopped what they were doing and came to attention, their backs straight, their right hands saluting. Murphy returned the salute.

  “As you were,” she said in a quiet voice. “A word, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Cash said, stepping forward.

  They left the barracks and went to Ready Room 287. It was part work room, part armory, with weapons in racks along one wall, and drawers full of ammunition. The ARC charging stations had been brought into the room, but were not yet set up.

  “What do you think?” Murphy asked. “Will this work for us?”

  “I think so, Lieutenant,” Cash replied. “Plenty of room for a work bench and tools. We have room for all six suits to be worked on at the same time without stepping all over ourselves.”

  “Seven,” Angela Murphy said. “I’ll be part of the operation, whatever it ends up being.”

  “Pardon me,” Cash said. “I didn’t mean to exclude you.”

  “I’m sure most officers mingle very little with their platoons, but we’ll all be gearing up together.”

  “That makes perfect sense,” Cash said, noticing a strange look on Angela Murphy’s face. He thought it was a pleasant face, perhaps even more than pleasant. She was pretty and smart, both traits Cash liked in a woman. He had to push his assessment of his immediate superior out of his mind. Fraternization between officers and the enlisted staff was frowned upon, and relationships between members of the same company were strictly forbidden. If he acted on his feelings of attraction for Angela Murphy he could be courtmartialed, dishonorably discharged from the CSF, and he would forfeit whatever pension he’d built up over a ten-year career in the service. None of which he wanted to bring on his head because he couldn’t control himself.

  “Something wrong, Lieutenant? I don’t mean to pry,” Cash said, “but you don’t seem like yourself.”

  “I’m just a little disappointed,” Murphy said. “I thought we’d be playing a more central role in whatever the task force was assembled to do.”

  “All my guys are feeling the same,” Cash said. “Sounds like Spec Ops is the step child of this mission. None of the teams will be brought into the central tactical deployment.”

  “It’s probably better that we’re not,” she said. “We aren’t ready and I know that. But I don’t like being put on the bench.”

  “Roger that,” Cash said. “But at least you’ll have an off world-deployment under your belt. Any successful assignment will look good on your service record. And off-world assignments are essential to promotion. You’ll be a first lieutenant before you know it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, it’s just not what I expected.”

  “That’s combat. Hours of waiting, sometimes days, even weeks at a time with nothing to do but worry. Then, if you’re unlucky enough to see action, it happens fast, but the horrors of it cling to you. I’ve heard stories of marines who go insane over the things they’ve seen and done.”

  “But you’ve seen combat,” Angela said. “You don’t seem to be scarred by it.”

  “I’ve been in a few fights, but they were small and we were in the right. I still see the men I killed in my nightmares. The training kicks in and you take care of the people around you, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the men we fought, outlaws mostly, would have killed us without hesitation. Worse yet, they would have killed the people we were tasked with protecting. So I can sleep okay.”

  “Ever fought an alien?”

  “No ma’am, never even seen one,” Cash admitted. “There’s some native life on the colonies, but nothing like Earth. The swarm are the first threat to our colonies that we didn’t bring on ourselves.”

  “I wonder what it’s like to fight creatures that are so different?” she asked.

  “I’ve seen the footage, same as you, but I also knew some of the operators that were killed in action. Good men, tough as hell and fearless. If the swarm killed them, then they are no joke and I hope you never find out what it’s like, if I can be so bold as to say that, Lieutenant.”

  “I just want to be useful,” Angela said. “I’ve spent a lot of time proving myself and being disregarded for reasons other than merit. I didn’t sign up with grandiose expectations of being a great warrior, but now that I’m here, I want to be useful. I want to help.”

  “You bound for a colony one day?” Cash asked, changing the subject for fear of things getting any more personal.

  “To be honest I never thought about it,” Angela Murphy replied. “I never considered what I would do after my gymnastics career was over.”

  “Really, that’s a little odd isn’t it? I mean, that kind of thing can’t last forever and you’re only eighteen right?”

  “Nineteen in a few weeks,” she said, shaking her head. “I should be on the national gymnastics team right now. That was my
goal. It was all I thought about. I didn’t even give the alternative any consideration. I was going to make it.”

  “What happened?”

  “What always happens? I did my routine. It was the best performance of my life, but all the judges saw was a fat girl who was too tall and too old.”

  “Pardon my noticing ma’am, but you’re anything but fat.”

  “Well, compared to fourteen-year-olds that weigh eighty pounds, I’m a whale. Did you know that there hasn’t been an Olympic gold medalist in women’s gymnastics who was over five feet tall in more than a century.”

  “Really? That seems impossible.”

  “It’s the reality of the sport. I’ve seen girls starve themselves trying to stay at an unrealistic weight or stunt their growth.”

  “But not you,” Cash said.

  “No, I got pretty serious about nutrition, but I didn’t starve myself. I thought I could break the barrier, you know. Prove that no matter what size a person is they can perform. It was a little naive I suppose. But when it ended I was shocked that I had failed. I didn’t have a plan for the rest of my life and when the CSF offered me a place where I could use my skills it sounded like the perfect fit.”

  “Well, I’ve seen your skills and you’re an unstoppable force in an ARC suit,” Cash said.

  The door to the armory swished open and seven strangers entered. Cash recognized them immediately as the two apprentice seaman, four senior airmen, and his counterpart in the Air Force the chief warrant officer.

  Introductions were made, and a time was set for an official spec ops group meeting the following day. Lieutenant Murphy left to attend the mission briefing and Cash was left chatting with the new additions to his team.

  “What’s she like?” Chief Warrant Officer Beemus asked.

  “The lieutenant is smart, but still getting her feet wet. You should see her in one of these though. She’s like a superhero or something.”