He Who Dares: Book One (The Gray Chronicals 1)

by Rob Buckman

  “Aye-aye, Sir.”

  As he walked back to the shuttle he heard Corporal Rice order his squad to fall out, the cave channeling the sound of their grumbling and swearing. That was expected. If Marines didn't complain, you knew there was something wrong. His next job was to sort out the remainder of the ship's crew, and come up with some sort of plan. Time was running out for the survivors and they couldn't afford to sit here for too long. On board, he sent each of the crew on a separate task to get as much of their equipment working as possible, especially the backup sensor array and communications. Next he brought the ships log up to date and detailed his plan of action, something Leftenant Kelso had failed to do. Once done, he punched up the terrain map on his terminal, hoping the minimal sensor sweep they'd made on landing picked up a lot more than he'd seen from the main viewer. It had. A white dot showed the last know position of the survivors, a blue one theirs. The straight line distance between the two was about 250 miles from their current location. For two thirds of that the gorge they sat in ran in the general direction he wanted to go. That would give them good cover for some of the way. If Conner Blake could navigate the ship through the gorge they'd be well under any possible ground radar, or sensors. There was no telling what might still be in the air, but without an uplink to a Nav-Sat he'd have to take a chance. How far above the rim of the gorge could they fly without someone spotting them was also an unknown. It was a risk they'd have to take. Conner turned up half an hour later, smartly turned out except for a dull bruise on his left cheek.

  “Your orders, Sir?” He asked, stepping into Mike's cramped cabin.

  “You trip and hurt yourself, Chief?” Mike raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, Sir. I forgot to duck as I passed through a hatchway and ran into a transom.”

  “I just bet you did.” Mike murmured.

  It was clear Conner had established his authority in no uncertain terms. Mike wondered who the unlucky individual was, betting it was Corporal Rice.

  “What's the plan, Sir?”

  “Plan? I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, Chief.”

  “Something is better than nothing, Sir.” Mike nodded and pointed towards the screen.

  “I want you to take a look at the terrain map and tell me if you can fly this bucket all the way down the gorge to this point.” He indicated the location on his map.

  “It'll take about five minutes, Sir, and I'll let you know.”

  “Good. The plan is to use the gorge as cover to get us as close to the survivor's location as possible, without being seen that is.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we make a dash across open county to their location. Find a spot to put down, get the Marines to round them up and get them aboard. After that we make like the good shepherd and get the flock out of here.”

  “And after that, Sir?”

  “Figure a way to get the hell out of this system as quickly as possible.”

  “Sound like a plan to me, Sir.” Mike looked up to see if the Chief was laughing at him. He wasn't.

  “If I might suggest, Sir.”

  “Go ahead, Chief.”

  “There are seven survivors, we know of, and some of them could be injured. That means we might have to stretcher them out.”

  “Of course.” It was another point he'd overlooked.

  “We only have eight Marines ready for duty, nine men, with myself.”

  “Umm hadn't thought of that.”

  “If you assume that at least some of them are going to need help, we need at least twelve men.”

  “What do you suggest, Chief?”

  “You lead the landing party, Sir and take any non-essential ship's personnel along to help with stretchers.” Mike thought about it. That would leave a few of the Marine as guards, and men available to trade off with the stretcher party as they got tired.

  “I'd have to leave some people here to have the ship ready to lift the moment we step abroad.”

  “Agreed, Sir, but the walking wounded can fill in where needed.”

  “And what about you? You are the only helmsman left.”

  “You can fly this bucket as well as I can, Sir, and in a pinch so can the navigation's rating, leading technician Goldman. She's rated to fly a shuttle.” Mike doubted she could fly anywhere near as well as Conner. He pulled his ear lobe a moment.

  “Um, that would give us the necessary people and cover the critical positions on board.” He nodded, looking at the different possibilities.

  He felt a prickly sensation on his forehead, and his uniform felt tight. Was it fear? There were so many unknowns his plan looked silly on face value. What if? What if? He shook his head not daring to go down that road. Rescuing the survivors was the least of their problems. Fate seemed hell bent on putting him a position where he alone has to make life or death decision for other people. How they were going to get back out of the system was something he didn't even want to contemplate right now. Take this as it comes and concentrate on one problem at the time before going onto the next, while keeping one eye on the big picture, as his grandfather use to say. The trouble was he was running out of eyes.

  “All right, Chief. Let's get this dog and pony show on the road. I'll inspect the Marine and we'll be on our way.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir.” Conner saluted as Mike put his cap on then turned and exited the cabin. Taking a deep breath Mike followed a moment later.

  Mike inspected the Marines one more time, finding Conner Blake was as good as his word. This time they were smartly turned out and looking every inch Royal Marines. The moment Blake called them to attention with 'Officer on Deck' they snapped to attention and stood ridged while he walked down the line. Even Rice had lost the surly look on his face, sporting a shiner instead. Mike overlooked that as he checked the blast rifles and other equipment.

  “Very good turned out Corporal Rice. As of now you are acting Sergeant for the duration.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Rice acknowledged, looking surprised, then snapped him a salute. Mike walked around to the front, nodded to Blake.

  “Troop! Troop - stand at ease!” Rice barked. Eight pairs of combat boots thudded into the 'at ease' position in union, hearing more than one let out a soft sigh, probably in relief. Whatever CPO Blake said must have made a deep impression.

  “We're about to depart and continue the rescue mission as originally planned.”

  Mike said, turning to address them. “Your job will be to go with CPO Blake and myself to find the survivors once we set down as close to their location as possible.” That brought a few uneasy movements. “How many have injuries we don't know at this time, but your job will be to help carry them out and provide cover fire if needed. I'm hoping you won't need to.”

  With that, he dismissed them, and picking up the battle lanterns along the way they all filed back into the ship. It didn't take long to get everything ship shape and for him to give the order to lift. Conner Blake backed the ship out from under the waterfall with a lot of scraping and grinding that set teeth on edge and hands gripping arm rests. Once clear of the falls Conner lifted the shuttle and took off down the gorge, balancing the need for speed with caution. Mike ordered they keep the ship as EM silent as possible, which meant no shields. The moment they lifted, Mike knew something was wrong. The shuttle had a definite list to port and for a moment Mike thought the AG system had taken damage.

  “What the hell!” He muttered, looking around at Clarence Reilly.

  “Sorry, Sir, water. We picked up a few gallons going in and coming out of that cave.” The Operations rating said over his shoulder.

  “Can we get rid of it?”

  “Yes, Sir, working on it.” Slowly the shuttled righted itself as Reilly dropped the rear ramp. The moment the shuttle came level, Conner Blake started them forward.

  He kept their forward speed as fast as possible without shields and only bounced the ship off the walls a few times. Even so Mike heard more than one person wince when they did. There were some
hair raising moment through some narrow spots, hearing the sound of rock scraping metal. In all it took three hours to reach the point Mike indicated on the map and a few gray hairs in the process. Coming to a hover Mike ordered Conner to feed power to the lift engines and take them up to the rim of the gorge very slowly. One thing Mike was thankful for was the fact he hadn’t signed for the shuttle. He’d hate having to explain to the maintenance Chief why it had so many holes and dents in it.

  “Sensor sweep!” Mike ordered.

  “Aye-aye, Sir.” The voice of Sally Goldman replied.

  “Gently does it, Chief. A foot at the time.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir.”

  “Clear! - Clear! - Clear!” Goldman intoned as they gained altitude. “I have a clear scope to the horizon, Sir.”

  “That is?”

  “250 miles, Sir…” she answered, “…and no active radar sweeps in progress.”

  “Good. Helm - take us back down to tree top and set a course for the survivors last know position.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir.”

  “Keep a sharp watch on your scope, Sally.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir. That I will.” There was laugher in her voice, despite the tension.

  Dawn wasn't far away and Mike just hoped they could get the shuttle down and hidden before the sun came up. They cruised over virgin forest and if Mike didn't know better he could have sworn they could be flying over the forest of Avalon. Flocks of bird like creature lifted into the air as they passed, some quite large and at any other time he would have stopped and taken a closer look. It wasn't long before they ran into a rainstorm, cutting visibility on the main screen to zero. Thankfully, the digital navigation system was still online so Conner didn't slow down. Here and there, some giant of the forest lifted above the others and more than once Conner had to throw the ship into a quick turn to avoid hitting it as it loomed up out of the darkness. They covered the 25 miles to the location in less than an hour and began circling.

  “See anything, Chief?”

  “No, Sir. No visual signs of the life pod.”

  “Sally?” Mike used her first name without thinking about it, much as he'd done in the simulators at the academy.

  “Nothing, Sir. The trees are so dense my instruments won't penetrate. The heat signatures could be anything, animal, vegetable or mineral.”

  “That means we'll have to search for them on foot, damn it!”

  “I could try a low frequency burst transmission and see if I can trigger a response from their beacon, Sir.”

  “No, not from up here, Sally, to risky - Chief, find us a nice picnic spot and set her down.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir.” Conner chuckled.

  “And try not to damage the flora and fauna as you take her in. We don't want to leave a calling card.” Mike tried to make it sound light. Tearing up tree and bushes would be a sure sign to any potential searches that something had landed. It still took Conner Blake ten agonizing minutes to find a place under one of the giant trees.

  He maneuvered the ship down through the canopy without tearing up the countryside too much, handling the 1550 ton ship with all the delicacy of a mother putting a baby to bed. Finding a natural hole, he maneuvered the ship through the gap, then horizontally until it was completely hidden by the overhanging branches and broad leaves. As Mike suspected, due to lack of sunlight the ground underneath the foliage was free of other large growth. Other than some low ground cover the area was relatively clear. They had a perfect landing spot and with a groan of settling metal Conner brought the ship down and cut the drives.

  “Well done, Chief.”

  “Thanks, Sir.” He answered, wiping his brow as he removed the VR helmet.

  “Sally. Try squawking the life pod beacon now.”

  “Aye, Sir.” She said, pressing her keypad. The response was immediate. “I have them, Sir. They are about a mile from here, or at least the life pod is, but no answer from the radio.”

  “That's good enough. Find me a combat harness and let's go, Chief.” Conner smiled.

  “Be right back, skipper.” Conner was as good as his word, returning with a combat harness and wearing one himself. Mike eyeing the helmet Conner wore.

  As soon as Conner was out of earshot, Mike swore. He needed to wear the helmet to stay in communication with the Marines, but he knew the game would be up the moment he put the helmet on. He was damned if he did and dammed if he didn’t. With a sigh of resignation, he changed his clothes while Conner went off to see about getting the Marines sorted out. Within a few minutes they were all outside in battle gear ready to go. As Mike stepped off the rear ramp, Conner held out a battle helmet. Mike looked at it a moment, trying to think of a way to refuse.

  “You need this for communication, skipper.”

  Mike still hesitated, realizing the repercussions once he put it on. Conner gave him a puzzled look. It wasn't as if he had a choice. If he wanted to communicate with all the Marines he'd need it. Taking a deep breath Mike put it on and touched a point behind his right ear. The moment he did the built in systems scanned his eyes and interfaced with the chip in his head. The HUD in the half faceplate lit up, showing the position of each Marine, his rank, and health status along the top edge. For a moment all the Marine stopped moving and stood looking at each other. Their HUD's showed Mike as the squad leader now with the range of Sergeant, overriding Rice's temporary rank. It also gave Mike overall command and control functions of a senior NCO. Rice looked at him, not sure what to say. Only a Marine had the necessary implants to activate a helmet and battle rifle.

  “How the hell…” He started to say. One quick look told him Mike's weapon was armed.

  “Save the question for later, Sergeant Rice. We have a job to do.”

  “Yes, Sir!” He snapped, coming to attention. You don't get to be a Sergeant in the Marines without time in service, or combat.

  Either way Mike outranked him three ways from Sunday. Conner caught on quickly and understood what just happened, but said nothing. He did wonder how a young naval officer came to have a fully functioning Marine wet ware in his head. It was something to ponder and it made him look at his new Captain with different eyes. All the Marines straightened slightly and exchanging glances. It was one thing to BS a snotty nosed naval Ensign and another Marine Sergeant. As Mike turned to give some last minute instruction to a naval rating, Corporal Rice edged over to Conner.

  “What gives, Chief?” He pointed with his chin.

  “Beats the shit out of me.” He answered with a shrug. “But you can bet your best boots and garter, he isn't some REFM office puke.”

  “But how…”

  “All right, people, can the chatter and let's move out!” Mike commanded over the general push frequency, cutting off any further speculation.

  Whatever question rattled around in Corporal Rice's brain would have to wait for later, if there was a later. Rice did access his database, but other than confirming Mike's rank the computer chip didn't have any additional data. In the end, he shrugged and let it go. Either way you sliced it, Ensign Gray was in charge no matter what. Eight Marines, two naval ratings, Conner Blake, Rice and Mike took off through the undergrowth, heading due north towards the escape pod. Mike had to admit that goldbricks they may be but the Marines knew their job. With two out front on point, one on each side as flankers, and two bringing up the rear, the rest of the rescue party was well covered in the center. Mike calculated that it should take about one or two hours to reach the crash site, but that was before he saw what they had to go through to get there. The dense, semi-tropical growth was impenetrable in some places, and more often than not he found they were traveling in every direction except north. The terrain didn't help as they scrambled up one ridge and down another. By 09:00 everyone except Mike was soaked with sweat and panting with exhaustion from the heat. Mud insects, heat, and equipment took their toll and in the end he called a halt for a rest and took stock of the situation. One of the naval ratings was definitely in a bad way, not
that he felt in the best condition himself. Too many years on a cold, low gravity planet like Earth had a way of changing his body.

  “Chief, we need to send him back.” Mike nodded towards the rating.

  “I agree, Sir. If he stays he'll just slow us down even more.”

  Mike keyed his comm unit, but all he got back was static. Not surprising with the dense jungle and ridges between them and their ship. Especially with the low powered equipment they were using. Mike swore softly to himself and shook his head.

  “At least he can take a message back for me.” He could see the question on Conner's face.

  “When we reach the survivors I'm going to bring the ship to us. There is no way we can carry them back through this.” He said, pointing the jungle around them. “Do you think Goldman can get her out and bring the ship to us?”