Space Marine

by Merrell Michael

  An embedded photographer in Khandahar shot the video that spread across the net, and then, the world: A Marine platoon was caught in a firefight. All the men taking cover, except for one, bullets bouncing off the black plates across his chest. He runs toward the enemy, firing his M16 rifle at the source of the shooting. Sometimes, an image can change everything. And that one did.

  The American congress quickly pushed through a measure to fund new sets of "powered combat armor." It was met with discomfort in the field. The Marine in that video had later ended up crippled, from the amount of damage he took that way. The insurgents found a way to adjust, and simply added larger explosives to their IED's in order to cause more damage to more heavily armored targets. Still, the path had been set. Bulky, cumbersome suits grew sleeker and more sure footed. America lost its war, and soon its empire collapsed, partially under the weight of its own absurd military budget. But the next empires, the Indian and Chinese, were to utilize their own versions of Armored Infantry.

  When the great fuels revolution of the mid twenty-first century took place, old problems died and new dreams emerged. The multi-national corporations that ruled the civilized world saw the new potential for space travel. Early lunar and martian colonies were established. Primitive terraforming took place, under great geodesic domes. Soon new generations of men and women were born, that saw their home planet as something other than Earth. With this came strife, and eventually, rebellion.

  The first Space Marines were a group of Xe corporation private military contractors sent to take back a power plant from a group of Martian insurgents. They wore modified Power Armor that contained its own life support systems. There was no video of this event, but it was every bit as important as the one in Afghanistan a century earlier. The Marines ignored the illegal Martian weapons, and simply tore holes in the dome surrounding the plant. All the "terrorists" died, as well as the fifteen hostages they were keeping. But the use of force had its desired effect. as long as terraforming including domes, Earth held on to its colonies in an iron grip.

  Thats my little bit of history. Sorry if I bored you.

  We had a week to get things ready with Third Squad. Armored Infantry divides its units up into three squads in a company. Before Marines used Power Armor, it was four platoons to a company, with three squads of ten to a platoon. But those numbers arent feasible with us, or maybe just to damn expensive. So it was me, the kid, Hunter, Mcgovern, Chief, Buckey, and Griswold. Seven men. Six veterans and a rookie.

  The kid got his first lesson on monday at the chow hall. We sat down on reinforced chairs, and ate our rations quickly. The kid tried to manipulate a spoon to eat a bowl of oatmeal, and bent it in half. "I cant do this." He said. "Why is it so hard?"

  "Its good training." Chief told him. "First thing you learn in infantry school. It helps you manipulate fragile objects, and increases your manual dexterity."

  "So learn to fucking eat, boot." Mcgovern said.

  The kid ruined two more spoons before simply picking up the bowl and dumping it in his mouth. The runny oats dripped across the front of his Armor, and got into his visor.

  "Jesus Christ." Hunter said. "Its like eating with a three year old."

  "Your crew chief is going to chew you out." I told Gabbert.

  And the maintenance crew did chew him out, in the hanger. After that days training I had to supervise the kid digging a combat sized foxhole in the sand. This was more grief for me, I had to teach Gabbert how to set his armor gauntlet to shovel.

  The next night we were mortared by the Chimera, and lost a few hours of sleep. When dawn came and the bombs stopped falling, the kid opened up his mouth with more dumb shit.

  "When do we get our chainsaws?" He said.

  "What?" Peters asked. "Your not a fucking lumberjack."

  "I-I heard that Space Marines get a chainsword."

  We all stood there with our mouths open, dumbfounded.

  "A sword with a chainsaw blade." He said.

  "Thats the dumbest shit I ever heard." Mcgovern said finally.

  "Well, is there a chainsaw bayonet then? Like, to attach to a rifle."

  "Jesus Christ, boot!" Chief exploded. "Does everything you know about this job come from some fucking video game?"

  "I heard it from a couple of guys." Gabbert said. "Its all across the net. It makes sense, I think. For when it gets hand to hand."

  "Listen, kid." I told him. "When you see the Chimera, you shoot them. If they run up to you, for some reason, which they don't, you shoot them. If it ever gets close enough for that, you buttstroke them with your rifle. Bayonets were for World War 1."

  "When was World War 1?" The kid asked.

  "The twentieth century. And as a history lesson; they weren't even good back then. We teach you squad tactics. How to run and shoot.

  Later, I taught him how to run.

  PT in the Power Armor is a necessity. We set the Armors responsiveness back aboutten percent. That gives it enough resistance to really engage the muscle groups. It also serves a combat purpose. If your used to the armor moving sluggishly when you train, when its fully responsive in combat you'll feel like your flying. Gabbert vomited inside the

  armor, and nearly passed out. I helped clean in out.

  "You've got to stay hydrated." I told him.

  "How do I do that?" He asked.

  "Theres a Camel bak system in the suit. I gave it the command, and a small tube snaked up in front of his mouth. He sipped on it.

  "Its good." He said. "Real cold.

  "Have you pissed in the suit yet?" Hunter asked. Gabbert nodded. "Thats you your drinking." He said. "The armors got a still suit function, recycles all its waste."

  "It filters out the bad stuff." I told him. "And the Crew Chiefs add fresh water to your reservior everyday in the rear. Don't worry about it too much."

  "Im not." the kid said, but the look on his face said he was. "I have a question, though, Corporal."

  "Shoot."

  "How do you go to the bathroom?"

  The rest of the squad howled and laughed. "Your in for a real experience." I said. "Let me show you how an infantryman goes number two."

  For the majority of the Marines at the FAB, there was a row of shitters that were little more than plasteel buckets under a board with a hole. For the Armored infantry, the board was hard metal, to take our weight.

  "Here you go." I gestured.

  "Theres no hole." He said.

  "Its time you broke in your armors waste disposal functions." I said. "It filters the water in solid waste, as well. Just sit on the board, and pinch it out."

  "Isn't that-kind of dirty?" He asked.

  "The designers thought of everything." I said. "The suit gives you a little spray of water back there when you finish. Plus the under layer of nano tech gets everything clean. Get to work." I folded my arms. "In infantry school, they timed us."

  Gabbert sat on the bench. "Is there anyway I can get a little privacy?" He asked.

  "Sure." I said, and shut his visor. "Now hurry up and shit."

  That night while the kid went straight to sleep I stayed up, playing spades with Mcgovern, Chief, and Hunter.

  "I cant believe you came back." Chief said. "After all that shit you talked. Eat the apple, fuck the Corps. I thought you were going to burn off your damn tattoo."

  "Maybe I missed it." I said. "What about you? You were only a couple of months behind me.

  "He got a re-enlistment bonus." Mcgovern said.

  "Fuckin A I did." Chief said. "I got a piece of shrapnel to the spine, is what I got."

  "They were saying big homie wasn't going to make it." Hunter added. "You were in that hospital for a long fucking time."

  "I had a spinal, dog." Chief said. "Total paralysis from the neck down. I couldn't feel nothing."

  "Jesus." I said. "And they fixed you?"

  "Yeah, they fixed me, all right." Chief said. "I had to sign an eight year contract. They fixed me good."

  "You can transf
er out, though." I said. "Get a sweet POG job, somewhere in the rear."

  Chief shook his head. "Not a chance." He said. "I have to do it all in my original MOS. Thats what I signed."

  "I wouldnt have fucking done it." Hunter said. "I would have stayed a cripple and a civilian. Spent all my time on the net and raked in VA benefits."

  "VA doesn't pay for shit." Chief added. "And, not being able to feel my legs? Or my dick? Course I signed. I can still go home on leave between deployments, and get laid."

  "Eight years is long enough to pick up a couple of promotions." I said. "You wont have to spend all that time in the field."

  "I bet I do." Chief said. "The white mans been fucking the indian over for years. Seems to me this is what I get."

  The night was cool and dry. I stared up at the twin moons of Chimera. Before I knew it, the week was over, and we were in the field.

  NINE

  Our first mission was a simple one. A movement to contact outside the FAB. We set up outside the gate in a staggered column. Close enough to respond if another Marine went down, but far enough apart so that an IED wouldn't take out both of us. The math of war can be pretty tough.

  I looked out as far as I could see. The yellow sands blew in the wind. Jagged fingers of black rock rose in ugly patterns. As if the planet were flexing its talons, to spear the human intruders that strode its flesh. The radar link was scanning on my HUD. No heat sinks in front of us.

  There was an art to walking on patrol, a way to move, taking three or four steps, then looking back, or to the side, to check the Marines behind or next to you. This went back to the days when hand or arm signals were used predominantly to issue orders. We had the comm channels in the Armor, which were open and kept quiet. Standard Operating Procedure on a patrol; no excessive chatter.

  We passed the crashed wreckage of a Stomraven. It was mostly picked clean by the surface storms, blasted free of paint down to the bare metal. On the side was a huge crater, where an unknown blast of energy had passed through it.

  "Might be worth checking out." I said. "Stay frosty."

  I raised my weapon to the ready, and went in. The crosshair swept across my HUD as I panned right to left. When I saw what was in there, I tried not to get sick.

  The pilot had crawled to the cargo bay. He had been infected, and stripped down to the bone. Next to him was what had happened with all that DNA. The Chimera pod bulged and rippled. It was an ugly flesh tone, striped irregularly with reddish-blue veins.

  "I need a pyro grenade up here." I said. "Double time."

  Hunter ran up to me and handed me the cylinder. I got everyone back, and shouted "frag out!" Through the comm, pulling the pin and pitching it in. The Chimera youngling birthed as it burned to death, and let out an ugly squeal.

  "Cant do that every time you see a pod, Corporal." Chief said. "Just waste ammo."

  "I know." I said. "I did it to this one, and thats good enough."

  The town three clicks from the front gate of the FAB was named Perdition. Colonists on ugly planets often got biblical when they named things. Perdition was excessively ugly, and completely dead.

  The streets were covered in the yellow sand, at least a foot deep. Prefabricated shelters stood crookedly , missing doors or window panels. Sometimes colonist chose to paint their dwellings, to brighten them up, but the residents of Perdition had instead left the shelters metallic black, which the constant sandstorms had stripped down in places to a dull grey. I radioed back to higher that we had reached the endpoint of the patrol, and recieved my orders. Like a good squad leader, I passed it on to my Marines.

  "They want us to spend the night?" Hunter said. "Thats not good."

  "The first sergeant thinks this is where the skirmishers are coming from." I said. "He wants us to wait overnight, in a modified ambush."

  Chief snorted. "We fought over this piece of shit three weeks ago. Its impossible to hold. The Chimera just swarm from every direction."

  "We don't have to hold it." I said. "Just engage whatever shows up, and break off. As soon as were done, I'll call in a Stormraven and we'll get a ride back to the FAB. If nothing shows up, all the better."

  I felt guilty for the last part. The Chimera always showed up, and everyone but the kid knew it.

  We searched the town briefly, until we found the corpses.

  There were two of them, Marines from Attack Company. Their armor had ruptured in several places. Inside their flesh and bone had been stripped by the Chimera, to sustain the swarm. They were propped back to back, where they had fought and died together. Next to one of them was a Gauss rifle with a broken buttstock. When they had run out of ammo, they had used it as a club.

  At their feet, taking up every available inch of the structure, were the bones of the dead Chimera. Huge, ugly, warped things, stripped of flesh to sustain the hive. I could see the skulls staring at me. The four eye sockets, and rows of razor sharp teeth. In several places the Chimera had left depleted weapons, the couple Bullseyes and even an Auger. The Chimera rifles were coded to only respond to Chimeran DNA. They worked by some particle-acceleration method our scientist had not figured out yet. The Auger was a real threat, it ignored solid objects, and fired beams of light energy. One shot would burn like hell, and a full volley would cook you good in your power armor.

  I set up the squad as best I could in the structures. It was tricky work, to try and guess which direction the enemy would take. I ended up splitting us into two groups, to try and cover main street. The men took varying amounts of stimulant. The kid made the rookie mistake of taking to much, and was all jumpy and twitchy for hours. I kept him and Mcgovern on my side. Chief and the others were in the building across the street.

  What happened that night was my fault. If my head had been in the fight, if I had been a better leader, things would have been different. But they weren't. After an hour into the ambush, I put in the override code in my helmet to hack into the net. My profile came up on the HUD, with all its contacts. I picked SABI, NAYLA RN. The comm was ringing on her side. I waited nervously, for her to get to the screen.

  She did. "Ryan?" She said.

  "Hey Sab." I answered. "Its been a while."

  "Is this a hacked line?"

  "Yeah. Sorry about that."

  "I could lose my rank if I get caught on this."

  "I need you to do me a favor."

  She squinted at the screen. "Where are you?"

  "Chimera." I answered.

  "Oh, shit."

  "Thats right."

  "What happened?"

  "A lot of bad stuff. I cant go into it all right now."

  "Are you in the field?"

  "Yeah."

  "Oh, shit."

  "You already said that."

  "Its worth saying twice. Its gotten really bad since you left, Ryan. The casualty rate has gone way up." She shuddered. "We just got the hospital clear. Another Stormraven went down. It was pretty bad."

  "Do you have any nonhuman residents on the station?"

  "What, like Chimera?"

  "No." I said. "Like Pandoran."

  "Why would a Pandoran..." She drifted off, as the pieces clicked. "Oh God." She said. "They brought her here? They brought Shayiza to Chimera?"

  "It was my fault." I said. "And I'm going to fix it. For now I need you to find out where they're keeping her. Im going to keep in touch."

  "Ok, Ryan." She nodded. "I'll do it. Be careful down there." She closed the channel. I knew I could trust Sabi. She had told me she loved me, once, and maybe she still did.

  The radar clicked in, a large energy pulse.

  "Dropship coming, boss." Chief said. "One click out."

  I swore. The sandstorms had a way of messing up our long range sensors. Now the Chimera were almost on top of us, with no way to back out. "Wait until they drop off the warriors." I said. "They might leave right after."

  "And if they don't?" Mcgovern asked.

  I didn't have to answer. If they didn't, we were fucked.
The dropship had heavy enough weapons to vaporize a Marine completely, leaving behind nothing but a radioactive shadow. It rumbled into view, the throaty crackle of its electromagnetic engines.

  The side hatches opened.

  The Chimera warriors screamed as they jumped out. I could see them from here. Ugly things. Made of pale, dead flesh, with four eyes on its head glowing with a hellish light. The arms ended in sharp talons, carrying the bullseye. The legs bent like a grasshopper, and melded with the black metal Chimera used instead of clothing.

  "Stay frosty." I said. "Wait until they come into the killzone."

  There were two dropships, releasing between fifteen and twenty warriors. They spoke to each other in grunts and clicks. They came closer and closer. I could smell them now, through the air filter. Like rotten meat.

  "Let the first ones pass." I said. "Wait for it."

  The tension was thick in my skull. The Chimera could tear a Marine to pieces, if enough of them got involved. I had seen it happen.

  "Wait for it."

  There was a brute in the middle. He stood nearly ten feet tall, and half again as wide, a mass of ugly muscle. He carried an atomizer. With a clean line of sight, the weapon could wipe out the entire squad.

  "On my mark." I said. I set my Gauss rifle to three round burst. I targeted the brute in his eyesocket.

  "Mark." I said. I could not hear my own words.

  My shot took the brute in the side of the head. It tore off layers of skin, and exposed bare skull. He howled. The fire lanced down from both sides of the street. From the second floors of the shelters, we killed them. The warriors screetched and fell apart as the explosive rounds tore out purple ropes of intestines, ugly red organ, and gushers of red blood and black bile. There was joy in it. It was the best thing in the world, and when I looked right to Mcgovern, I could see the broad smile in his face. The brute was attempting to stand on its feet. I took a pyro grenade and threw it, cooking it two seconds to allow it to explode on contact. My aim was true. The grenade exploded in the monsters torso, consuming him in flames. Still he howled, and attempted to pick up his weapon. The rest of the warriors, the ones that had escaped the killzone, had taken flight, darting between buildings. The brute was drawing all our fire, and was literally being shot to pieces. He let out a burst of fire, that went wide and took out a nearby structure, then collapsed.