Precursor Revenants (The Precursor Series Book 1)

by Cain Hopwood

  One by one, they took up station above the gunships and transports. Above Jon’s gunship the crab spread out four claw like appendages, reaching out as if to grab them, though its claws never actually touched the human craft.

  Once all the crabs had a firm grip on their human bundles, the colonel gave the order to release. The crab tugged them straight out of the Aquina’s hold. That was when the ride got wild. They dropped, and Jon got a good look at the carrier holding the Aquina. He didn’t get a full count, but it looked like it could carry at least a dozen of the landing craft.

  With a little more distance, Jon saw their carrier was just one of a number docked, and there was space for many more. But before he could properly grasp the scale, their crab accelerated. They sped past the carrier, through a hatch, and into a tube that, while it seemed small, nonetheless managed to swallow a volantor gunship with aplomb.

  The tube was dark and featureless. So, mercifully, they didn’t have a proper idea of the speed they were shooting through it. They were moving fast though because the occasional intersection flashed by like a small country railway station as seen from an intercity express.

  Their destination was going to be, as always, a camp. In the colonel’s final briefing he’d told them they would have exclusive use of the unused seventh section of the starship’s main habitation chamber. Of course no-one could explain to them what that actually entailed. But they were about to find out.

  After some time, the crab slowed, signaling that their journey might be finally reaching its end. It popped out through a hatch and into sunlight so bright they had to squint. Before they could get their bearings though, the crab accelerated again. Moments later they were about one hundred meters above a surface that appeared to be ground covered in rolling hills.

  Even though they were still in zero gravity, Jon’s sense of up and down reoriented so that the bright sky was overhead, and the ground below. The crab then proceeded to take them at a more sedate pace for the final leg of the trip.

  It didn’t take long. After a couple of minutes they stopped, then slowly sank towards a relatively flat area with a few small buildings. As they neared the ground, gravity returned. And, by the time they settled on the surface it was at full strength. The moment their gunship had settled on its struts, the crab ship released them and shot away.

  Murdoch reached for his restraints, and Jon remembered the briefing. “Hold on, wait for the colonel’s all clear. We’ve still got all the supplies to come. We don’t want anyone crushed as they’re delivered.”

  True to his word a small fleet of the crab ships arrived, each carrying other transports and numerous crates of supplies.

  While he waited for the all clear, Jon noticed his weight and it reminded him of yet another note from the briefing. “Before you all get up, remember what the colonel said. This is a gal-standard seven environment, you’re twenty percent heavier here than at home. So, don’t just vault off the gunship like you usually would. It’ll take a couple of weeks for the bone density meds to kick in, and until they do, take it easy.”

  Once the last crab ship departed the colonel gave them the all clear. Jon unclipped, gingerly exited the gunship and took his first steps on what was to be their home for the next couple of months. His men followed.

  They’d been deposited a short distance from the others, and they walked across the red dirt to where the colonel was himself debarking from the large troop transport.

  “Bloody hell, this reminds me of home,” came Murdoch’s drawl from somewhere behind Jon.

  “Nice for some,” said Ingles.

  “I didn’t mean it in a nice way you drop-kick.”

  Jon looked around. To his eye the environment was closer to the post nano-phage wastelands in southern Brazil. Still, at least it was warm and dry.

  With the extra gravity, it took Jon and his men a minute to cross the short distance. They were the last to arrive. The others were looking around, taking stock of their surroundings and saying nothing. It was an eerie quiet.

  Before they had a chance to take everything in, the colonel started barking orders. “First things first, get camp set up.” He gave a sweeping wave of his hand. “This will be the assembly area, so keep it clear of shelters. Bakowski I want a command tent at the edge of this area. Moss, your men are on KP, get the mess tent set up opposite, and get a hot meal under way. Gritz, latrine. I’ve been told those small buildings are our facilities, so set up something for us to cart and carry.”

  Three sir’s rung out as Jon and the other two lieutenants acknowledged the orders.

  But the colonel continued. “Pascale and Lepok, to me. We need to discuss science and medical. The rest of you, organize the supplies and set up sleeping quarters. I want things nice and close. We look like we’ve got a lot of room, but let’s assume it might need defending, so don’t spread out too much.”

  The familiar, camp set up commands snapped Jon and his men into action. First, he had to find all the rations and mess equipment, including the tent. Fortunately every piece of equipment the company utilized down to the last spoon was embedded with a tiny transponder. Jon filtered his datatacts to triangulate and display just the ration and mess supplies. Location glyphs filled his vision, and they were scattered all over the camp.

  He brought his squad in close with a hand signal. “Sale and Levin on me, let’s get the mess tent and kitchen set up. As for the rest of you, it looks like our supplies are all over the place, it’s your job to get everything together and organized. It’s been a long trip, everyone will want chow and then some shuteye, so let’s look lively.”

  Between the three of them it didn’t take long to get the mess tent erected. It was designed for units on the move. The transponders in each piece of kit, and their datatacts, made the assembly a snap.

  Water was next, without that they wouldn’t be able to reconstitute dinner. Jon grabbed Peggy Sale, who had just finished unpacking the food warmers. “Peggy, go find Sergeant Gowlett, he’ll be somewhere around those buildings. We’re going to need water.”

  “Isn’t that the latrine sir?”

  “It’s the facilities sergeant. According to my briefing we were to be dropped somewhere where we would have a water supply and waste disposal facility.”

  “Yes sir, on it.”

  “Hang on, grab a de-sal kit, who knows what’s in the water here.”

  Sargent Sale unfolded a couple of storage bladders, grabbed the de-sal kit and trotted off.

  Supplies started trickling in as his men located crates with gear and rations. While Jon assembled the tables and chairs, he had Levin preparing to kick off the stew. By the time the rest of the unit had the camp set up, Jon would have a nice warm meal ready to fill their bellies. It would be a nice change after the long journey and travel rations.

  An hour and a half later, with the unit fed, the mess and kitchen cleaned and readied for next day’s breakfast, Jon and his men had their first opportunity to relax since arriving at the starship. They’d clustered their tents together in an arc forming a small common area.

  Peggy Sale and Charlie Murdoch, Jon’s two sharp shooters, had their weapons stripped down and were making sure that nothing had been knocked askew during transit. They did this after every journey. Some of the others were reading, or watching vids on flexis. Jon was just sitting back enjoying not having anything to do.

  “Lieutenant,” said Levin in his lazy Midwest drawl. “Did the colonel happen to mention to you where we are?” A sweep of his hand took in their surroundings. Low hills, sand and the occasional small wiry looking shrub defined the landscape. “I mean, this place is huge. It’s hard to believe we’re in some kind of starship.”

  Murdoch looked up from his stripped rifle. “Were you asleep when we arrived? Where else could we be?”

  “But look at this place. Bushes, hills, sure the sun’s a bit odd, but there’s a god damned sky in here.” He pointed up. Overhead was a single fat tube too bright for anything other tha
n a momentary glance. Surrounding it was a sky the color of a burnt orange sunset. Something about the color, or the lighting, made Jon feel as if dusk was just around the corner. Though, he’d had that feeling since they’d arrived.

  Billy Childs, Murdoch’s usual spotter, chimed in. “I don’t think this place is as big as it looks. It’s like them casinos in Vegas with their blue painted ceilings. Here I’ll show you.” He unclipped his spotting scope from his pack and pointed it at the sky. “See, I’ve got a good clear reading. Twelve seventy two meters.”

  Childs then stood and swung his scope in a slow three hundred and sixty degree circle. He pointed over the command tent. “That hill over yonder is only a couple of clicks away, but so’s the sky above it.”

  “What about in the other direction?” said Levin, now no longer looking up.

  “That’s further, scope’s rangefinder only goes out to five clicks.”

  Jon smiled inwardly. He knew exactly where they were. The colonel had supplied him and the other lieutenants with a map of the chamber so they could come up with ideas for training exercises. But he was pleased to see his men questioning their situation.

  “We’re in a big chamber, like the one the ship parked in when we arrived. Except this one has air, and it’s made to look like a planet’s surface.”

  Childs put his scope away. “These people gotta live somewhere, may as well make it look nice. As I said, just like they do in Vegas.”

  “Nice? This place is pretty dire really,” said Murdoch turning back to inspect his rifle.

  “I dunno, them lizard fellas might think this place is real homey,” said Childs.

  “If you’d both read your briefing notes, you’d know this is a gal standard seven environment. Which means a specific range of temperature, humidity and gravity.”

  “Them notes is for brass like you sir, no disrespect intended.”

  “None taken Childs, and for the record you’re right. From what the colonel’s said, I expect that our Ka-Li friends would find this a very pleasant environment. They’re cold blooded after all.” Jon stretched and yawned. “I don’t know when, or even if, it’s going to get dark, but either way I’m turning in. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us to get that mess properly set up. And, we’ve also got to produce three meals a day until the duty rosters are sorted. Also, the translators are arriving tomorrow as well, so you’ll all have language lessons starting.”

  It said something to how tired everyone was that all he received by way of reply was a couple of grunts. Or, maybe they were all looking out in the distance trying to figure what on the horizon was wall, and what wasn’t.

  — 13 —

  It only took a couple of days for them to fall into a routine at the camp. The colonel had set a grueling training schedule with the goal of getting them up to strength under the new, increased, gravity. The men must have been curious about their strange surroundings, but they weren’t left with much time to contemplate them.

  And they needed it. The environment was taxing, making Jon feel like he was back in basic. Even something as ordinary as a pre-breakfast run, without a pack, left him feeling like he’d run a marathon. And the colonel told them they’d better get used to the training. They’d be doing that run with a full load out in a few days time.

  After the morning run came calisthenics, then breakfast, then two hours of language training. After that came camp preparations, digging ditches usually, and lunch before a full afternoon of exercise and more training.

  The combination of heavy exercise, extra gravity, and bone and muscle boost meds left Jon and his soldiers ravenous. When they weren’t on a scheduled activity, they were eating. There was barely enough time in twenty four hours for a decent night’s sleep.

  Jon knew the hectic schedule was by design, part of the colonel’s plan. They didn’t have a great deal of time to get their soldiers to full fighting fitness in the new environment. They’d been told by Katona they’d have to hit the ground running once they reached Marbel. But they could only push the men so hard, otherwise the unit would be so tired that the language training wouldn’t stick. It was a delicate balance.

  Jon stumbled into the mess after the usual morning five mile run. Though it felt more like ten.

  “Bit slow huh Moss?” said Mario Gritz, another of the colonel’s lieutenants.

  “We’ve been cooking breakfast lunch and dinner for you lot for the last couple of days, so I’ve got catching up to do on the aerobics, but we’ll get there.”

  Jon grabbed a tray, piled it with food and started eating before sitting down with the others; he just couldn’t seem to eat enough these days.

  Gritz pointed at the empty trays in front of the others at the table. “Definitely slow Moss.”

  Jon swallowed his mouthful. “Well, it’s weapons training today Gritz. And with the new Galactic tech, we’ll see who’s slow soon.”

  “You and your sharpshooter pussies haven’t got a hope against my heavies.”

  Jon grunted derisively. “Don’t think so. My guys are smart, they’ll have that Galactic gear humming in no time.”

  “Not as fast as my guys, they were born with weapons in their hands.”

  Jon gave a small shrug. “Well, we’ll see after breakfast I guess.”

  “Wanna make a small wager Moss? A hundred coin says my men handle the drill better than yours.”

  The bet surprised Jon. He and Gritz were often at loggerheads. The rivalry was friendly, mostly, and while settling a bet with the exchange of a few coin was not uncommon, Gritz was notorious for only taking the safe bets. Or dirty ones.

  “You’re on Gritz,” said Jon. He turned to Pascale who was sitting at the other end of the table. “Adjudicate?”

  “Oui,” said Pascale with a look of indifference, though Jon fancied he could hear the smirk in the engineer’s voice.

  Jon quickly stuffed egg into his mouth and chased it with a piece of toast. He didn’t want to blow this by grinning. Gritz would lose this bet.

  The session was due to start straight after breakfast, but Jon found a minute with his soldiers before the meal finished. “Listen up, Galactic weapons orientation is up next.” He looked around at their faces, and their eyes were sparkling with anticipation. “Now, I know you’re all looking forward to it. And, to make this session just a little sweeter, I’ve got a side bet going with Gritz that you guys will handle it better than his lumps.”

  “What do you mean by that lieutenant?”

  “Pascale will judge. As long as you’re cool, calm, and you look like you’ve been firing these things your whole life, you’ll romp it in.”

  Murdoch jinked his head toward the other end of the mess tent where Gritz and his men were huddled together. “I’d say they’re getting the same speech we are.”

  “Oh they will be, but I know something they don’t.” The low conspiratorial tone in his voice drew the men closer. “I’ve fired these things before.”

  “A dirty bet with Gritz. Love it,” said Murdoch

  “Exactly. Unlike his men, you won’t be going in completely blind.” Jon looked over the faces, he had their complete attention. “Now, this is what’s going to happen…”

  — 14 —

  Colonel Whitfield stood at the unit’s makeshift firing range. His men had spent a good part of the last two afternoons constructing it. He mused realizing that with no discernible day night cycle in this starship chamber, afternoon was a purely arbitrary term.

  The firing range was a short distance from the camp on a long low hill. Backstop ditches had been dug up the hill at one and five hundred meters. Another row of ditches and mounds at the base of the hill formed rests for the firing positions.

  In front of him stood two large crates. They’d arrived yesterday, and they contained enough assault rifles, pistols and carbines to equip the entire unit. While the men had been out on a long run, he’d taken the opportunity to familiarize himself with the new items of kit.

  Learning h
ow the Galactic weapons functioned had been such an eye opener that he decided to run the orientation session himself. All he’d done for the last few days was bark orders, so it would be good to have a bit of fun with the men for a change.

  Usually he’d let Avis do this kind of session, just to mix up duties for his disciplinarian XO. For just a moment he missed having his XO around, but he knew this assignment wouldn’t have been fair to his young family. Thinking of Avis also reminded Whitfield that he hadn’t clarified the chain of succession in the, now much smaller, unit. That could wait until they arrived at Marbel though.

  The tromp of booted feet announced the first of the unit’s men arriving. It didn’t take long for the range to fill.

  Once they’d all assembled he began. “Good morning everyone. Your lieutenants would normally have the pleasure of introducing you to new weaponry. But they’re as green with this gear as you are, so I figured I’d run this session myself. Also, it’s a good opportunity to give you some background about this assignment.” He looked around. Every face was eager and expectant, unlike the polite attention he usually received during briefings. He remembered to keep the tone casual, as their lieutenants would have on this kind of training session.

  He took a breath. “First up, some background. We’re here as an auxiliary force to assist Admiral Katona’s forces. In particular, there are environments they can only operate in with suits and the like. Now, while their weapons are more advanced than ours, they have ways of detecting them. Ours on the other hand, are unknown to them.

  “It is their intention to use us for surprise, surgical strikes in environments they find challenging. So, I expect that for most operations we will use transport and weaponry we are already trained in. However, as you know nothing ever goes to plan. So, should you find yourself in the heat of battle and without a weapon, or running low on ammunition, you may need to acquire and use an item of Galactic weaponry.