ARC Angel (ARC Angel Series Book 1)

by Toby Neighbors

  “The suits don’t look like much,” Airman Joan Rogan said. “They look like wetsuits or some type of strange scuba gear.”

  “They fit like wetsuits, but that’s impact resistant fibers. The developer sent techs to train you, so they’ll give you the specs, but I think they’re the future of combat.”

  “Can’t wait to see what they can do,” Beemus said.

  Cash smiled. “You won’t believe your eyes.”

  26

  C.S.F. Apollo, task force Olympus

  En Route to the Tau Ceti system

  Colonel Hale was a tall, thin man with gray hair and slate gray eyes that seemed to bore into the souls of the officers seated in the Apollo’s briefing room. They were in what was essentially a theater with tiered seating, and retractable half desks at each seat, but Angel was standing in the back with the rest of the spec ops company. She was by far the most junior officer. There were other lieutenants, but they were all older than Angel by at least a decade. No one was rude to her, they simply ignored her for the most part, and she did her best to listen and not draw attention to herself.

  “The garrison is gone,” Colonel Hale was saying. There was a huge map being projected behind him. “They were overrun at Yeager Flats, but they did slow the swarm slightly. The marine platoon from the Ramses, along with her fleet of attack birds, is currently on station just outside Springdale, in the Fertile Valley region. In case you didn’t know, Springdale is where the Neo Terra healing water is bottled and shipped back home. It’s more expensive than champagne and a large part of the colony’s income. It’s not a massive city, and most of the residents have been evacuated, but to lose the town would be a difficult blow for the colony.

  “We will be making the jump into hyperspace in just under two hours. We’ll be in system in thirty-six hours, and we’ll begin the deployment exactly twelve hours after that. I want everyone ready. The Air Force jocks will be escorting the shuttles down, but we don’t expect any trouble until we’re on the ground, which means this is a Marine operation and I want everything done by the book. Get your people on station and ready to push the bugs back. We’re going to show them what the CSF Marine Corps is all about and I mean to hang the queen bitch’s head on this wall.”

  There was shouting and whistles. Angel understood the power of a good pep talk but she could also feel the urgency of the officers in the briefing. They were ready for a fight, eager for the chance to prove their mettle. Angel knew what that was like too, but she didn’t feel at ease like the others. From what she had seen, the swarm was a vicious race that would devour the entire battalion if given the chance.

  “Sir,” a man near the front raised his hand to ask a question. “Will we have time to get vehicles on the ground?”

  “We’ll be dropping everything on the planet,” Colonel Hale explained. “Springdale is twenty-seven kicks from Port Gantry. It’s not a large space port. It was built to help ferry the water from the bottling facility up into orbit for transport back to Mars and Earth, but they have enough fuel to keep our birds moving, so we’ll set up our FOB there.”

  Colonel Hale spent the next half hour outlining where the various platoons and companies were to take up station around the city of Springdale. He discussed firing lanes, reserve troop movements, shifting companies in response to the swarm. It all made sense, but one of the lessons she had learned in the officer’s training intensive was that no battle went according to plan. Adapting to a situation and improvising to complete the objective were principles the CSF Marine Corps lived by. And Angel understood the difficulty of adjusting on the fly. Every gymnastic meet she’d competed in had included some failure or breakdown in the plan that required her to change moves in the middle of a floor exercise, or adapt to something she hadn’t expected either in the equipment available or the other competitors.

  “And finally,” Colonel Hale began to wrap up the briefing, “we have Rogue Company, made up of six special platoons led by Major Dixon. Each of those platoons will take up station at nearby points of interest, and serve as reserve units if the need becomes great.”

  He showed dots on the map where each platoon was to be stationed. Angel saw that she would be sent to a large coop farm nearly fifty kilometers from the fighting. While the other special forces platoons would be stationed between Springdale and the FOB at Port Gantry, her unit would be further south at the head of a long prairie fed by a river that flowed down from a small mountain range. It felt to Angel as if she were being sent to the corner for bad behavior, but she didn’t respond. The briefing in front of the battalion commander was not the place to air her grievances. She could feel the tension from the officers around her. It seemed that none of the spec ops officers were happy about their assigned role in the mission. Chances were good that none of the special forces units would see any fighting. The swarm had proven to be dangerous, but Angel couldn’t imagine anything surviving the battalion’s overwhelming fire power. There would be enough guns on the ground to wipe out an army, and that didn’t include whatever firepower the Air Force would be bringing to bear.

  Once the briefing ended, Angel followed her company out of the theater and was halfway back to their suite of offices when her flex pad vibrated. She saw Major Dixon pulling his own pad from a cargo pocket on his fatigues as she retrieved her own. A message on the screen ordered her to report to Colonel Hale in the Senior Officers’ Ward Room.

  “Murphy, we’re wanted on alpha deck,” Dixon said.

  Angel nodded, stuffing her flex pad back into her pocket. She turned to follow Major Dixon, who had reversed course. The other officers in Rogue Company, two first lieutenants, and three captains, continued on their way. Angel couldn’t help but notice that Major Dixon didn’t look happy. She wanted to ask why they had been summoned, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. No one seemed happy to see her, and she was feeling more and more like a burden. It was impossible not to wonder if joining the CSF hadn’t been some gigantic mistake.

  The lift took them up to alpha deck and Angel saw that it was mainly recreation facilities. They passed a huge fitness area, with weights, cardio equipment, wrestling mats, and a boxing ring, but no gymnast equipment. Her squad could practice some of the simplest moves on the mats, and while it was far from what she might have hoped for, she made a mental note to have Staff Sergeant Cashman reserve them some time on the mats.

  Soon, they reached an office not unlike their own suite but instead of several small offices, there were only three. Angel saw the names on the displays just outside each door. The ship’s admiral and the Air Force Wing Commander also had offices along with Colonel Hale.

  “The colonel is waiting, Major Dixon,” said a short, heavyset man with a silver spar on his collar that meant he was a midshipman. “Go on in. You too, lieutenant.”

  Angel followed Dixon through a door that opened automatically as they approached. It was a little surprising just how lavish the office was. The first thing Angel noticed was the thick, Persian-style rug on the floor, and the tufted leather sitting area. The walls were even paneled in real wood, and there was a huge shelf behind the colonel’s desk with photos, decorations, and books neatly arranged. Between the desk and the sitting area was a small buffet table with a coffee machine on one end, and a row of liquor bottles on the other.

  “I was just about to pour a drink, Al,” the colonel said. “You game?”

  “I never turn down a free drink,” the major said.

  “How about you, Lieutenant. Care to celebrate your first deployment?”

  “I’m honored, sir, but no thank you.”

  “All right then,” Colonel Hale said, turning and handing Dixon a tumbler of amber-colored liquor. “Let’s have a seat. I’ve got some questions I’m hoping the two of you can answer.”

  They sat down on the leather furniture. It was comfortable, but felt slick to Angel, and too old fashioned. She wasn’t a small person, but the oversized arms on the sofa and the large brass studs that decorat
ed the seats made her uncomfortable.

  “Major, I’m assuming you’ve seen what these ARC suits can do?” Hale said.

  “Yes sir, Lieutenant Murphy shared some video with me.”

  “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. You know how much they cost?”

  “I wouldn’t venture a guess.”

  “More than a fighter jet. It’s unbelievable they ever got funded.”

  “That is surprising, Colonel.”

  “No offense, Lieutenant. We know the ARC program wasn’t your idea. My issue is with the brass. I can’t understand why the hell they would foster this group onto us at the last minute. You’ve worked with the ARC suits, Lieutenant Murphy. Do you really believe they offer that much of an advantage?”

  “Well sir, as I’m sure you know I’m new to all this.”

  “Yes, I’ve read your file, and I’ve seen you in the ARC suit. It’s unbelievable what you can do in that thing.”

  “Thank you, sir. All I can tell you is what I was told. If the suits work the way they are supposed to work, they should distract, perhaps even confuse the hive mind.”

  “Should?” Colonel Hale said. “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  “What’s worse,” Dixon spoke up, “the brass cut their training short. I know Staff Sergeant Cashman who has been assigned to the ARC program. He’s a hell of an operator sir. One of the best. But they aren’t ready, Lieutenant Murphy was candid with me on that point.”

  “Is that so, lieutenant?” Hale asked.

  “I’d say that Staff Sergeant Cashman is three-quarters of the way to being able to truly use the ARC suit to its potential. The rest of his squad is much farther behind,” Angel said. “They are working hard, and they can use the suit to do just about anything I can do, but the problem is vertigo. Once they start flipping and tumbling, they get dizzy.”

  “So they’re useless, is that what you’re telling me?” Hale said.

  “Not useless, sir,” Dixon said. “Cashman will have his squad in fighting shape. You can bet on that.”

  “I wouldn’t say useless, sir,” Angel added. “They just aren’t ready for what the suits were designed to do. They can move fast, jump, but changing directions is a limitation they haven’t overcome yet.”

  “Well, it’s good to know you won’t piss in my ear and call it hot rain, lieutenant. I value officers who give it to me straight, even if it isn’t what I want to hear. I know the brass wants your squad out in front, engaging the swarm, but I just can’t see the wisdom there. Hell, even if you could confuse the enemy, what are you supposed to do when my battalion starts firing? You’ll be cut to ribbons, if the bugs don’t eat you first. I’m damn sure not going to hang my hat on experimental tech, and while I don’t want to throw away tech that costs a bloody fortune, I value the lives of the pilots even more.”

  “I agree with your decision to hold the ARC platoon back, Major. In time your squad may prove useful, but for this first operation, I don’t want you taking any chances. Is that understood, Lieutenant Murphy.”

  “I do understand, sir,” Angel said.

  “Good, that’s very good. You are dismissed, lieutenant.”

  Angel stood up, saluted, then left the senior officers drinking on the big leather sofas. She felt strange walking back to the lift alone. It was as if she had somehow betrayed the fire team she was training. They weren’t ready to disrupt the swarm the way they had been intended to do, she had been honest about that. She even believed that the members of Cashman’s squad would have said the same thing, but something inside her felt as if she had made a mistake. All her training had been to face any challenge, and overcome any obstacle without backing down. But as an officer facing a deadly threat, she couldn’t just throw her squad to the wolves before they were ready. They might not like the assignment they were getting, but at least she was confident they would live to fight another day.

  27

  C.S.F. Apollo, task force Olympus

  Hyperspace

  The jump into hyperspace was strange. Angel had just returned to her tiny office when the announcement came over the loudspeaker. The naval personnel were ordered to their emergency stations, and the overhead lighting turned red. There was a countdown and Angel couldn’t help but grip her desk to help calm her nerves. Then the ship transitioned out of normal space and into a new dimension. It felt for a second as if she was falling, and then, like a light being switched on, everything was normal again.

  Angel had studied hyperspace travel in school. The calculations that allowed ships to jump into a different dimension and pop out light years from where they started was far beyond high school levels, but her instructor had used a very vivid analogy to help her understand how it worked. He stood behind the class in the middle of the back wall with a flashlight. Standing in one place, and moving the flashlight in his hand, he was able to move the spot of light from one side of the room to the other. Angel had watched the beam move from the left front corner of the room, to the right. The teacher then talked about the distance the light could travel being different, depending on where it was in the room. In the front of the class room, the light traveled far, in the back of the glass room, the light only traveled centimeters.

  Instead of the Apollo traveling light years to reach the Tau Ceti system in normal space, they transitioned into hyperspace where it was only necessary for them to travel a few hours to where they could transition back into normal space very near Neo Terra. It was complicated science, but simple in theory. Once in hyperspace, Angel felt normal. She filed a report outlining the assignment they had once they reached Neo Terra, and then with nothing left to do, she went to find dinner.

  The officers’ mess was on Charlie deck, and she found a table that was unoccupied easily enough. She was halfway through her meal when two of the Rogue Company officers came in and saw her eating alone.

  “You mind if we join you?” Captain Malachi Reynolds asked.

  “Of course,” Angel said. “Be my guest.”

  “First deployment?” Lieutenant Elizabeth Smith asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Angel replied. “First, everything.”

  “It shows, but that’s not a bad thing,” Reynolds said. “Most junior officers would kill for a chance to lead a special platoon.”

  “It’s definitely a bright spot on your service record,” Smith said. “As long as you don’t screw it up.”

  “I don’t see that happening,” Angel said. “We’re not much more than passengers on this trip.”

  “What did the colonel want with you?” Smith said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “He wanted to know about the ARC program and how ready we are.”

  “Can you talk about it?” Reynolds asked.

  “I don’t suppose it would hurt anything. We’ve been deployed together. You should be seeing us in action, but that isn’t going to happen.”

  “Why not?” Smith said, sipping her drink.

  “We aren’t ready,” Angel said, once more feeling a bit guilty for talking about her platoon when they weren’t present to defend themselves. “The ARC suits are made to disrupt the swarm so that conventional weapons are more effective in taking them out.”

  “How do they do that exactly?” Reynolds asked.

  “They let us move much faster than what is normally possible. They utilize thrusters to help us change direction at speed. We should be able to move in an erratic fashion at high speeds, which should either take up all the queen’s focus, and hopefully disrupt the hive coordination.”

  “Which would leave the drones in confusion, making them easy targets,” Reynolds said. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Too bad we won’t get to see if it works,” Smith agreed.

  “It will work, at least the suits will work, once we’ve had a chance to really train in them,” Angel said. “My squad is getting the hang of it, but to be really effective the pilot needs to be constantly changing direction, and not just side to side. We have
to jump, tumble, do saltos and twists. It’s tough.”

  “Saltos? You a gymnast, Murphy?” Smith said.

  “Twelve years,” Angel admitted.

  “And they recruited you special for the ARC program, didn’t they?” Smith said.

  “What the hell is a salto?” Reynolds asked.

  “A somersault, you neanderthal,” Smith said.

  “Oh, like a flip,” he said.

  “Yes, you bone head, a flip in midair. You ever try one?”

  “Hell no,” Reynolds said. “I’m doing my level best to keep my feet on the ground at all times.”

  “So, you’re the one on the video that’s making the rounds on the ship network,” Smith said. “You’d never know by looking at the ARC suit. I knew it was a woman, but that’s it. I’m guessing the helmet is some sort of smart HUD tech.”

  Angel nodded. “What video?”

  “There’s a video of the suit in action,” Reynolds said. “It’s short, just about thirty seconds of you running through a very difficult obstacle course. It’s pretty impressive.”

  “But the marines in your fire squad can’t do it yet, can they?” Smith asked. “I’m guessing you’re the only female?”

  “Right on both counts,” Angel admitted. “They’re getting there, but those types of moves take time to learn and even longer to string together.”

  “That’s just like the brass,” Smith said. “They need people like you, but assign spec op guys who have zero gymnast experience.”

  “If the ARC squad is supposed to charge into a horde of aliens, you wouldn’t want to trust a group of gymnasts to do that,” Reynolds said. “Better to train veterans who you can depend on to actually do the job.”

  “Not if they can’t do the job to begin with,” Smith argued. “I’m special forces all the way. There’s no job I won’t volunteer for. No fight I will ever back down from, but let’s face it, Malachi, most marines aren’t light on their feet.”