Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges

by Alan Black

  The closest Hyrocanian shrugged its shoulders. It was a perfect imitation of a human shrug except the alien’s four arms spoiled the effect. It stood looking with distain at the main deck area, refusing to step into the smelly mess. Its back arms began waving the next shipment forward.

  Squeals of pain and terror accompanied a small flood of piglets. The Hyrocanians were using long rod-like shock sticks to prod the piglets forward. Stone counted. If they could get the piglets in and get the main hatch closed, they might be able to disconnect from the delivery shuttle and back away without being caught.

  A full company of marines was fewer than usual for a ship the size of Rusty Hinges. Even though the warehouse ship was smaller, there weren’t enough marines to seize control of it. They believed they had more weapons systems than the warehouse ship, but with many of them out of operation and with untrained operators, they were at a disadvantage should any conflict break out. Stone was ready if it came to a fight. So were the marines, the tactical officer on the bridge, and LT Vera, the weapons officer. Even Spacer Dollish had sharpened his knives.

  It only took a quick minute before a cluster of piglets swarmed into the main deck area. Without waiting for a signal, Shorty stood up and backed into the middle of the piglets. It looked as if he had been a part of the crowd the whole time. He stood still for a moment. Dozens of piglet faces turned toward him.

  Stone wondered what Shorty said. The swirling cluster settled down as Shorty spoke, then the piglets began rushing pell mell down the same corridor the humans had taken. They ran as fast as possible to get away. The Hyrocanians just backed out of the way, letting the piglets run.

  Stone’s suit picked up a distant conversation. His computer could only translate one word “stampede” and then a harsh gargle translated as a laugh.

  The rush of piglets almost reached its end. A few stragglers had yet to cross the threshold, most limping, helping the lame, or carrying youngsters when a Hyrocanian jumped into their midst. It grabbed a tiny child from a piglet, pushing the parent away. It gurgled and opened its maw, preparing to bite into the neck of the baby piglet.

  Stone’s fist, secure in the combat suit and hidden by camouflage, impacted the Hyrocanian mouth before it closed around the baby. Stone grabbed the helpless piglet with his free hand and tossed it to a startled female. The piglet, the last of her kind on the delivery shuttle, grabbed the baby and ran.

  Stone said, “Twenty six hundred and seventeen. Scenario B is broken.”

  He twisted his fist, trying his best to break every tooth in the Hyrocanian’s mouth. Suddenly, his fist broke free from the shattered teeth. Opening his fist, he felt something soft and squishy at the back of the alien’s throat. He closed his fingers around it and yanked.

  Turning, ready to fight the remaining aliens, he saw Allie’s platoon flooding through the hatches into the shuttle as they swarmed over the remaining Hyrocanian herdsmen. With nothing more than shock sticks against armored marines, the Hyrocanians might as well have been weaponless. Stone backed against the wall, flicked off his camouflage, and let the marines do what marines do. He hadn’t thought, he’d just acted. Rescuing one tiny piglet might have just doomed them all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Stone said, “Sorry, Captain Butcher. I blew it down here. The marines are taking over the delivery shuttle.”

  Butcher said, “I saw your actions and we’ll deal with you later. Major Numos, order your marines forward. You’ve taken a shuttle before, I’m confident you can do it again. Doctors?”

  Emmons said, “Thom, we have a blanket on their comms. And Dashell, all any Hyrocanian knows at this point is that the supply transfer is going slowly and without incident.”

  Butcher said, “Keep the main warehouse ship in the dark for as long as possible.”

  Stone heard Emmons chuckling. “They’re going to be so busy answering stupid calls they won’t know whether to shit or wipe. I got a good call into them now from what they laughingly call their own I.T. department asking about the viruses running on their own computers.”

  Hammermill’s Charlie Platoon quickly followed behind Vedrian’s. Numos’s Alpha Platoon pounded their way past Stone. Many of the marines gave Stone a thumbs up or a clenched fist salute on the way past. Escamilla’s Delta Platoon skidded to a stop at the main hatch to secure the marine’s line of retreat and act as reinforcements. Everyone knew the marines wanted scenario C, their preferred scenario involved a direct attack.

  Both Stone and Escamilla were surprised when Shorty and thirty piglets, all wearing small copies of marine combat suits, sprinted through the access entryway directly into the Hyrocanian shuttle. The piglets had set up a workshop on the deck below his hydroponics bay, but Stone hadn’t seen the suits since they’d left the piglet home system.

  Escamilla said, “Well, what do you know? Major Numos, you have thirty-one piglets in combat suits on your six. I doubt they’re acting as reinforcements, sir. Frankly, they look pissed and I imagine they have their own agenda.”

  Stone smiled at the various vocal marine comments.

  “Ooo-rah.”

  “That’ll do, Pig.”

  Even “Sooeeee, Pig. Sic ‘em!”

  This was Stone’s mess. He was about to turn and follow Shorty when he spotted a lone navy combat suit lumbering up the corridor. Spacer Dollish’s faceplate was up and he was grinning.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Ensign?” Dollish said. “We didn’t do all that work together on Allie’s World for you to run off and leave me now.”

  Stone said, “Spacer Dollish, you got my back?”

  Dollish laughed, “Oh, hell no, sir. I’m on your left side. She’s got your back.” He pointed behind Stone.

  Stone turned and saw a massive marine combat suit. Corporal Tuttle popped open her faceplace. “I got your back, Ensign Stone. It’s the only part that your girlfriend said I could watch. She ordered me to stay with you, knowing you wouldn’t sit this one out like you’re supposed to.”

  He reached up and slapped her faceplate closed, turned and closed Dollish’s. “Let’s get a move on before all of the Hyrocanians are dead.”

  Tuttle said, “Nice and slow, Ensign. LT Vedrian said that if I let you get hurt, she would make sure that my next assignment was protecting a convent. She said she has a particular interest in your body parts — all of them, sir. Not just the few parts that interest me.”

  Dollish said, “You know, Barb, if you really need the navy to help you with your interests, I’d be glad to volunteer.” The man skipped ahead of them, merrily slapping Tuttle on the shoulder with a loud clang. Although three platoons of advancing marines had cleared the corridor, he peeked around the corner at an intersection.

  Stone saw the infrared markers sprayed on the bulkheads by the marines. Part of Allie’s platoon had gone right. Numos had gone left and Hammermill’s platoon split into four fireteams racing away in all directions. He let Tuttle and Dollish verify the corridors were clear before moving forward.

  “Okay, you two. We helped take the Rusty Hinges before and this shuttle should be easier, but we have to stay out of the way. The marines have specific assignments while we get to freelance a bit.”

  Barb flexed her bio-mechanical hand in apparent anger. The hand was abnormally strong, but inside a suit gauntlet, its power was amplified. “Lead on, Ensign.”

  Stone said, “Up. This looks like the same configuration of the first shuttle we confiscated. Two decks up should get us to the command center. Tim, you’re on point. Barb, you stay right behind me.”

  The hatch at the ladderway was jammed open. A quick weld fixed it to the bulkhead. The weld was at piglet height, but infrared markings were at marine height. The quickly sprayed drawing was one everyone had seen everywhere, “Kilroy was here.” However, instead of Kilroy, the marine had drawn the face of a piglet peeking over a wall.

  Additional markings showed the platoon ahead of them had stopped to weld closed a nearby thick hatch le
ading to the central shuttle component. The four-part tetrahedral exterior was armored and wrapped around a smaller tetrahedron core. Charlie Platoon was racing around welding closed the hatches to that core. That would effectively seal off any main body of Hyrocanians.

  The plan for this scenario was for Alpha and Bravo to capture the command centers on the four external pieces, locking them down before their assault could be discovered. Once the command centers were controlled, all platoons would break into fireteams to search and secure the rest of the shuttle.

  Stone didn’t want to get between the marines and their assigned goals, but Allie was right, he wouldn’t — couldn’t sit this out any more than he could have let that baby piglet become a snack. He let Tim lead them to a blind intersection. Marines waved at them from across the corridor.

  A ping warned them of action ahead. Stone felt more than heard a muffled explosion, the vibrations tickling the bottom of his feet fed by sensors in his suit. Barb flipped a vis-aid bubble around the corner. The tiny camera fed them a view of smoke boiling out of a command center.

  Standing behind a shielded, tripod-mounted cannon, two massive suited Hyrocanians blocked the corridor. Tracers boiled through the smoke in a blind torrent of hostile fire. Two others were starting to set up a shielded cannon facing the opposite direction. It would be functional before anyone could go around the long way. The marines were pinned down but looked ready to make the assault regardless of the probable deadly outcome.

  A piglet wrapped inside a tiny combat suit raced forward. He scrabbled low to the deck on his hands and feet. The vis-aid bubble showed them a clear view of the action. Rather than attack the two aliens firing the cannon, the little fellow vaulted upward. A Hyrocanian grabbed him from the air at the height of his arc. Before he could be tossed aside, the piglet lobbed a grenade into the command center. A muffled whump and a new wave of smoke seethed from the center’s hatch. Stone dropped to the deck to see beneath the smoke.

  The Hyrocanian threw the piglet back down the corridor and pushed the cannon barrel in the piglet’s direction apparently to use the little guy as target practice. Like all Hyrocanians, it was a terrible shot. The piglet hit the deck with all four limbs clawing to get out of the torrent of fire directed its way. Without thinking, Stone shot a hand out, grabbing the piglet by an ankle as the creature slid past. Yanking hard, he pulled the piglet out of the central corridor and tossed it behind him.

  Directing fire at the piglet had the effect of easing the barrage pinning down the marines. With trained muscles enhanced by nanites encased in suits magnifying their tiniest movement, the marines moved. Before they were half a step into the main corridor a loud screech filled the air followed by an explosion. Tiny pieces of Hyrocanians showered everyone. Tuttle’s vis-aid bubble was knocked out of the air by what looked like and probably was a Hyrocanian knee joint partially wrapped in armor. Stone rolled on his side and stuck his head back into the corridor at deck level.

  Piglets rained out of the vent just above the former Hyrocanian cannon emplacement. Whatever they used to take out the cannon had warped the deck and bulkheads.

  Stone was on his feet, racing into the command center only a step behind the piglets and marines. Tuttle and Dollish were on his heels. The four Hyrocanians inside the command center weren’t a match for the marines, except the marines couldn’t get at them. A swarm of piglets was dragging three of them to the ground, tearing and stabbing with vengeful rage.

  The fourth Hyrocanian was fat enough to be the shuttle commander. It fought back with a fury born of self-preservation. A piglet buried a shotgun barrel deep into the fat creature’s gut and pulled the trigger. The Hyrocanian screeched. The blast of pellets succeeded in chewing out a chunk of fat, but didn’t hit any vital parts. It grabbed the piglet but couldn’t damage him inside a suit. It threw the little creature across the room, sending him crashing into a knot of piglets ripping at another dead or dying four-armed freak.

  The fat commander ignored the slashes of knives digging at its corpulent butt. Slapping the console, it tried to override the vid signal on the main monitor. The vid displayed a chubby Hyrocanian offering shares of a Nigerian prince’s large fortune being held for back taxes, saying all the commander had to do was click on the attached link. Stone doubted the Hyrocanian knew where Nigeria was any more than he did. No matter what button the alien pushed, the message on the monitor wouldn’t go away.

  Every time the Hyrocanian pushed a button a piglet reached around him and reset it. Remembering the simplicity of the Hyrocanian shuttle controls, Stone knew colored lights meant on, white lights meant off. It was that easy. The piglet resetting the controls was trying desperately to keep the white lights lit. The Hyrocanian grabbed the piglet by an arm and swung him like a club. Knocking down a trio of piglets, it threw the piglet at an advancing marine. Instead of ducking away from the armored piglet or simply swatting it aside to get at the enemy, she caught the dazed piglet and spun around to set him on the deck.

  Before the Hyrocanian could grab another piglet who was trying to disembowel it, Stone leapt forward. Throwing all of his combat suit’s weight onto the back of the alien’s neck, he drove it face first into the deck. Dollish pushed forward, a massive handgun at the ready, but before he could pull the trigger, Tuttle pushed him aside, reached down, and simply crushed the Hyrocanian’s skull.

  Tuttle said, “Dollish, that hand cannon you have will throw ricochets around this room like angry bees after fresh honey. Keep it holstered, would you? This room isn’t anything but a metal box and I don’t want to get shot in the ass by friendly fire.”

  Stone jumped up and slapped all of the console buttons, making sure they were all white. A piglet reached up to hand him a roll of duct tape. He taped down all the buttons but the first few. Those were the internal communication buttons.

  A portly Hyrocanian had just finished a spiel about refinancing mortgage rates when the screen blanked. Stone pushed the first four buttons turning the lights from white to red. One at the time, he saw the smiling faces of SGT Li, MAJ Numos, and his favorite view, 1LT Allison Vedrian. He ignored the last face, a Hyrocanian spitting angrily about being welded into the central shuttle piece. Their computer was translating its threats about dining on their cold bones when a massive armored fist holding a relatively tiny gun put a bullet in the back of the creature’s head.

  Hammermill leaned in and grinned through his open faceplate. “Core secure, Major.” He ignored a pinging sound behind him. “Just a few corners to mop up here, but we’re good.”

  Numos smiled, “Make sure we’re clear to the nines, people. Ensign Stone, good to have you aboard. You seem to be in shuttle section one. Do you think you can drive this beast into the Rusty Hinges’s shuttle bay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Numos grunted, “Then do it.”

  Stone smiled, punched a few buttons, and set a slow course. “Aye, aye, sir.” Hyrocanian shuttles used a point and click helm and navigation system. It took little skill and less concentration.

  He glanced up at Allie’s picture on the monitor. “While I have you, Lieutenant Vedrian, what did you mean when you said you met some people on Peach’s Rest who already liked me? You keep ducking my question.”

  Allie smiled, “I’m not ducking the question, Stone. I just don’t have time right now. Sorry, but I have to go make sure there aren’t any Hyrocanian’s hiding in dark corners. Isn’t that right, Major?”

  Numos shook his head, “How the hell do I know who you met on Peach’s Rest. I’ve never been to the place. I just prefer that we have all Hyrocanians dead or detained before we park this thing inside our ride home.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Even behind enemy lines, parked in space a few kilometers from an enemy spaceship, after action reports were the order of the day. Everyone filed reports.

  What did they see?

  Who did they kill?

  Which way did they run?

  How did they overcome
resistance?

  Where did they encounter the most resistance?

  When did they enter the shuttle?

  Before Allie’s interview, Stone tried to get the intelligence specialist to ask Allie about Peach’s Rest, but the woman ignored him and ducked the question, stating that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the planet as the whole place was too rich for her meager navy salary.

  His curiosity about Allie’s time on what should have been their vacation together was set aside as he was called into the captain’s office — again. He’d already been chewed out for screwing up scenario B and putting the ship in danger, after which, the piglets threw him a party for saving one of their own. They made him an honorary member of their species.

  He’d already been chewed out for racing into an enemy ship — again without orders. After which the captain awarded him another medal he didn’t need. The captain surprised him by presenting him an additional cash award for aiding in the capture of a second shuttle for the Rusty Hinges. He didn’t need the cash any more than he needed the medal. He secretly added the cash to the intelligence specialist’s pay account earmarking it for an all expense paid vacation to Peach’s Rest.

  He’d already been chewed out for flying an enemy shuttle into Rusty Hinges before the captain had verified all enemy combatants were dead or detained. After which, Master Chief Thomas gave him an attaboy plaque for finally driving something into a garage without hitting the walls or ceiling.

  He didn’t think there was anything else he’d screwed up. At least, nothing he could recall. Everyone was getting antsy lying doggo so close to an enemy ship, but Doctors Wyznewski and Emmons said their control of the Hyrocanian’s computer systems kept the four-armed freaks so confused they wouldn’t care about a ship they thought of as one of their own. They swore the Hyrocanians believed the stolen shuttle was in their own hangar instead of safely locked down in the Rusty Hinges shuttle bay.