Space Marine

by Merrell Michael

  We went to the cantina, and ordered a few beers.

  "This is good." Mcgovern said. "Bud Light. American Marines drank this, before going off to war."

  "American Marines lost some of their wars."

  "American Marines didn't lose shit. American politicians lost American wars."

  "I didn't know you were into history."

  "Im not. Hunter was, though. A little of it must have rubbed off on me."

  "You think he's lucky? Not to be here?"

  "Lucky? No. He's just delayed."

  "What do you mean? He's getting medically discharged."

  Mcgovern killed his beer and reached for another. "Is that what you think?" He said.

  "He lost his hand. Why wouldn't he be?"

  "And what happens when you lose a hand?" Mcgovern said.

  "You jerk off with the other one."

  "What the fuck ever. You get a prosthetic."

  "So he'll get a prosthetic."

  "Do you know what kind of Prosthetic you get on VA benefits? In this economy?"

  "No."

  "You get a shitty little hook. With, like, three pincers."

  "Damn."

  "But-" Mcgovern wagged his finger. "If you reenlist, you get a Luke hand. All five fingers and full range of motion. They can even simulate feeling. Its incredibly real. Almost better than the real thing."

  "Fuck."

  "You need an eight year re-enlistment. And he'll do it."

  "Hunter hates the Corps." I said. "He's always said so. He wants to get out of this shit."

  "Yeah, well, Hunter hates a lot of things. Namely, himself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "About a month after you left? Hunter tried to eat the barrel of a gun."

  "What?"

  "We were on the station on R and R. And we were watching this old movie. About gangsters or something. And Hunter just got all fucking depressed, and the next thing I know, he locked himself in the bathroom with this shitty little pistol he got from somewhere. I had to, like, literally yank it out of his hand."

  "Jesus."

  "Hunter'll reenlist." Mcgovern said. "He'll do that shit. The Marines gives him a place to be. A place to vent. He's probably better off here, overall."

  "He cant be a grunt, though." I said. "He cant wear a suit with a Luke hand."

  "So, fine, he'll be a POG. They'll probably keep him in the field. Artillery, maybe, or driving a tank."

  I said nothing. I thought about all the different jobs at the FAB. All the people that had signed on to drive trucks or repair air conditioning. Now they were here, and getting shot at, same as us. Maybe not same as us, most of them never went outside the wire, but still, it was there. At least I had signed on for it. At least I knew my place in this shitty, fucked up planet: kill or die.

  Mcgovern had drank too much and I had to help him back to the hanger. After he was snoring in his cot, I was awake with my own mild buzz. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow.

  For no reason whatsoever, it was a beautiful morning the next day.

  The glowing breadcrumbs lay out a trail in my HUD. I followed them to the staging area. Two uns were checking out a Warthog. I saw their tags on my visor, DAVEE, E-4 (SPC), TIMS, E-4 (SPC).

  "You feeling good this morning, Corporal?" Tims grinned. "Saw you and homeboy walking back from the beer tent last night."

  "That some funny shit." Davee grinned. "Watching you two stagger in that damn power armor."

  "I was hydrating." I said, with a grin of my own."

  "We'd have been right there, man." Davee said. "But lieutenant wonder tits wouldn't let us leave the barracks. Wouldn't even let us take off our gear."

  "Its all good." Tims thumped his chest. "I got me one of those new battle-grade plasteel flaks right here." He racked the heavy gun on the Warthog. "Im ready to rock."

  "Thats nice." I said. "Where'd you get it?"

  "Stole it off some major in Headquarters company." Tims said.

  "Watch your fucking mouth, troop!" Davee said. "Soldiers dont steal."

  "They acquire." Tims said. "So I acquired this sweet piece of gear off some POG thats going to stay way in the rear, and put my ten year old flak in its place. Fuck him."

  "Right on." I said. "Who's going to drive."

  "I will." Davee said. "If you dont mind. Ive done vehicle ops before."

  "Me and Davee here were in a 'hog like this on Arrakis." Tims said. "The ragheads put in IEDs and worm traps everywhere. Took out half our unit. Not a scratch on us."

  "Nasty fucking planet." Davee shook his head. "Whole things one big sandbox. And the ragheads are freakin hardcore, they drink their piss, man."

  I had a stillsuit function in my Power Armor, but declined to comment on it.

  "Im good on the gun." Tims said. "Youve got that Gauss rifle to lay down some heavy fire shotgun, we should be good."

  "Lets do this." I said.

  And of course, we waited. We werent Oscar Mike for two more hours. I had enough time to suck down water to try to kill my growing hangover.

  When the convoy finally did move, we all bunched up at the north gate trying to get out. From there we spread out into a wide formation. Once we were clear, Davee gunned it. The yellow sands whipped past underneath. The Warthog lacked doors, and exchanged overhead cover and armor for a roll cage and speed. It was meant to be driven by Three Space Marines in Power Armor. The drivers seat spoke to this fact, and was made of hard steel. Davee had rigged a cushion for himself out of sandbags stuffed with ponchos. I admired the improvisation. We were making good time.

  Ahead of us the Stormravens and fast movers pounded targets in the distance. We passed around Perdition. The sands were freshly scorched black from our bombs, and several buildings were burning.

  "This aint shit, dog." Tims said in the comm. "The Aerospace force is pounding them into next week."

  "Chimera got air to air, Corporal?" Davee asked me.

  "We havent seen any." I said. "Just the dropships, with a few heavy guns."

  "First hostile alien species." Tims said. "How they not going to have some crazy flying shit? That goes against all those damn movies."

  The sky turned dark, and stormy. My HUD data flickered with interference. Davee pointed to the Warthogs instrument panel.

  "Were losing GPS." He said.

  "I know." I told him. "This happens sometimes. If it goes down all the way, keep going straight."

  Without warning, an energy blast split the ground next to us. A huge plume of earth rose. Davee swerved.

  From out of the clouds, rows of dropships emerged.

  Tims racked the heavy gun and sent in roaring. The rounds streaked off yellow tracers up into the sky. "This is bad!" Davee yelled. "Why didnt the fighters fuck them up!"

  Next to us a Warthog caught a direct energy blast. It exploded in a huge orange fireball. Shrapnel whizzed past us. Several pieces caught in the windshield, fracturing the heavy glass.

  "It must have been the storm!" I said. The Chimera warriors were dropping from the sky. I killed one quickly, with a three round burst from my Gauss rifle. Davee smashed head on into one that had just dropped down.

  "You know what they say when your going to hit a deer!" He yelled.

  "Speed up!" Tims said.

  I heard the sound of fighters. Our Stormravens and fast movers were in the fight, dog fighting now. Some of the Chimera were firing up at them, some of them were firing at us. Bullseye fire whizzed at us from both directions, from the enemy we had passed, and the ones dropping in front of us. My heart was pounding in my chest.

  A Stormraven crashed into a Chimera dropship and started to fall in front of us, in slow motion. Davee gunned it. Overhead we could hear the metal groaning. It was huge, dwarfing the sun. Somehow we made it to the other side. When it hit behind us the Warthog lifted up off its wheels. It came back down again, bouncing and jostling on its shocks. Sand flew everywhere. Davee's hands went up to his face.

  "I cant fucking see!" He screamed. "
Oh shit, I cant see!"

  I reached over and grabbed the wheel, to keep us steady. We had lost all GPS signal. We were slowing down.

  "Its okay." I said. "Ive got you."

  The storm was behind us. We had gotten through the fight.

  THIRTEEN

  The storm had been an effective plow for the enemy. We had lost nearly a third of the unit in the battle. But flying sand was all it took for us to lose Davee.

  In the back, Tims had secured a eyepro earlier. Whatever officer he had stolen the plasteel flak from had also had a pair of goggles. Davee hadnt. I blamed myself. I should have thought of that. But I didnt. The medics took him away in a Stormraven, with a bandage over his eyes.

  Lieutenant Byers took his spot in our Warthog. I took the drivers side before she could think of it. She looked different, that when we first met. There was blood on her uniform that had dried deep brown. She would look away for long periods, and when our eyes would meet by chance, I could see fear in them. It was the Chimera fear, the deep fear of not knowing what the next moment would bring. The kind of fear an infantryman keeps very close, at all times. She was a stranger to it. I did not try to comfort her. On some level she was a soldier, and a leader besides. Either the fear would break her, or it wouldnt. I couldnt help her either way.

  We spent twenty hours driving. I had to juice up on stim to stay awake, through the night. There were no further ambushes. The Aerospace force did a passable job in keeping us safe. It was mid morning when we stopped, in view of the capitol.

  Or what was left of the city.

  The Chimera had built a black shell out of God-knows-what material. It jutted around the dead skyscrapers and highways. From above the city a blue light radiated, in a narrow beam. The sky was darkening around us. The atmosphere was changing, and not for the better.

  The breadcrumbs came back up on my HUD, with a little message for me to bring BYERS O-1 (1ST LT) with me.

  "We've got to get word." I told her.

  "Would you look at that?" She said, pointing at the city. "Its a terraforming. Their changing things."

  "Ma'am." I said. "Its time to go." I gave her my hand, and helped her get out of the Warthog. Tims sat in the back, scarfing down a ration. He had already adjusted, like a true Salt Dog. Lightning streaked through the sky. First Sergeant Post was in the back hatch of a Rhino tank. Inside was a variety of screens, showing every kind of data.

  "We've got second platoon?" He asked. "Griswold and that Army puke captain?"

  "Im second platoon, First Sergeant." A Marine I recognized from the old first squad spoke up. "Griswold and Captain Ibarra didn't make it."

  A churning went through my gut. Another dead friend. Another name gone from third squad. Griswold was our resident Nerd, spending all his free time on the Net with game tournaments. Before the Marines he had spent time in the Aerospace force. Now he was gone.

  "Thats everyone, then." Post said. "Listen up and take notes, in five hours this storm is slated to pass, and were beginning the assault."

  "How are we going to get past that?" Lieutenant Mellas asked.

  "Intel suggests that the dome has some sort of dispersion for projectiles, but cracks up close." Post said. "Man size cracks. Big enough to let in a Marine in Power Armor."

  "We wont have any of our firepower with us." Mellas said. "It'll be close quarters, just us against the Chimera. And we don't know what they have in there."

  "Well, lieutenant." Post said. "I wont lie to you. This is some tough shit."

  Everyone was quiet. Post lifted his visor. His face looked creased and worn. There was something hard behind his eyes, something flint blue, and made of steel.

  "This is what we do." He said. "Were Marines. We adapt. We improvise. We overcome. If we die, then we take us many of those alien motherfuckers as we can with us. If all our life signs go out, then command at the station is going to nuke that city from orbit. Thats the capitol, and you can see the Terraformer they've got set up from here."

  He pointed at the capitol. My HUD flashed, with two heat signatures, far off in the distance.

  "But I want you to know this." He said. "There are people in there. A resistance. Civilians have managed to live inside that hellhole, with no training or Armor, and fight the enemy. And stay alive. This is their planet. And we need to do whatever we can for them. Because thats what we do. Thats our job."

  The rest of the briefing was simple. Which vehicles would go first. The order of assault. I went back and told the rest what I knew. A few of the uns went to sleep. Most of us were wired, and ready. In the distance the bombs dropped on the dome. Thunder cracked, and it started to rain. A Marine walked up to me in Power Armor. His display read MATHIAS, O-5 (LT. COL)

  "Mind if I join you?" He asked.

  "Not at all, Chaplain." I said. "Go ahead."

  He sat down on the berm next to me. The rain beat down faster, and harder. I could see the uns getting poncho's out.

  "If it aint raining, we aint training." He laughed. "So they say."

  "Someone ate the Charms." I said.

  "What Charms?"

  "The older rations had this hard candy in them. The superstition used to be, if you ate them, it would rain every time."

  "I wouldn't mind that. A little hard candy. It would replace those Soylent bars they have instead."

  "Soylent bars aren't that bad. The brown ones take some getting used to, but the new green ones are pretty good."

  "They have green ones now?"

  "In the newer rations."

  "Would you like to pray, Corporal?"

  "What?" I asked.

  "Its my job." Mathias said. "I prepare Marines spiritually for what they face in battle. The First Sergeant prayed with me, earlier."

  "I wouldn't think Post would do that."

  "He does. Have you heard his story?"

  "Not really."

  "He struggled with a synthohol addiction for years. He met Christ in an AA meeting on Titan. He's really come a long way, since then. A remarkable comeback."

  "I don't really drink."

  "Thats good. Not many Marines share your example. Addiction rates are very high in the military. It ruins lives."

  "Thats not something the recruiter tells you."

  Mathias slapped his knee with a metallic clank. "Im guessing theres a lot the recruiter didn't tell you, Corporal. Do you remember that time? What you believed the Military...the Marines would be like?"

  I gazed overhead, at the alien stars. "I think I saw the commercials on the net." I said. "The ones with the drill team in dress blues, or the one where the guy kills the dragon."

  "And nothing like this." The Chaplain said. "Covered in rain, on a muddy hilltop, on Chimera."

  "Not like this."

  "It could be worse. At least your not the uns." He laughed. "We get to stay dry."

  "Are you going with us, tomorrow?" I asked.

  "Praise the Lord, Corporal, and pass the ammunition."

  "Thats kind of fucking awesome. Pardon the language."

  "It is, and don't worry about it. Its also not my quote. A Chaplain in the twentieth century said that."

  "You know what? Im glad I don't have to go through those wars."

  "Really?"

  "I don't have to fight men. Humans. That would be tough, having to shoot people that looked like me."

  "Do you want to hear the other side of it?"

  "Sure."

  "A Marine in that war, might look ahead in time to us, and say, gee, I'm glad I don't have to fight seven foot tall alien monsters."

  "Yeah. Crap."

  "Are you ready for tomorrow?" The Chaplain said.

  "I guess so."

  "Good, lets end in prayer." The Chaplain bowed his head. "Lord, we ask for your safety and blessing on Corporal Sawyer and his men. We pray for victory in the morning, and we pray that you let us find any survivors in the city. Let not our will, but yours be done .We ask all of this, in your name, Christ Jesus, Amen"

&n
bsp; "Why did you say that last part?" I asked.

  "Which one?"

  "Not our will. That part."

  The chaplain waved his hands. "Because its all up to God, in the end." He said. "You cant go against it. Win or lose, he knows best."

  "And if we all die?" I say. "Will that be best?"

  "If we all die, Marine." Mathias said. "I expect you to report to heaven in a clean set of dress blues for gate duty." He smiled, and walked off.

  The rain beat staccato on my armor throughout the night. When sleep came, it was fitful, and full of strange nightmares. Chimera pursued me through my childhood home on Terra. My mother was a skeleton covered in dress blues, holding the stillborn remains of my sisters fetus. I awoke panting and covered in sweat. It was horrible like that, waking up in power armor. The life support had clogged. Claustrophobia took me over. I was encased in a tomb.

  "Oxygen!" I yelled, to the Armor AI. "Oxygen!"

  Air brushed past my face. "Oxygen engaged." The AI said, in a soothing female voice.

  "Run diagnostic." I said. "Full systems."

  The display whirred numbers on my visor. I tried not to panic. What had happened to the life support? Was this a known defect in the Armor, that the corporation had decided was simply to expensive to correct? Had the Crew Chief made a careless mistake at the hanger? It was the worst possible time. Everything depended on my Armor functioning the next day. What if my visor locked shut, and the life support cut off again? My suit was airtight. I would suffocate, and slowly die.

  Minutes later, the diagnostic was complete. The AI informed me that sand had clogged the filtration unit. The nano tech had fixed the issue. I got up and walked around. It was the strange time of night that is not yet morning. The sun is coming up slowly, the huge red ball that Chimera orbits, but it wasnt there yet. The sky was slowly changing from dark to dusk. It was supposedly the best chance of getting attacked. I walked to the vehicle. I noticed for the first time that blood was smeared on the instrument display, and wondered who it had come from.

  The ignition turned, and the Warthog roared to life.

  We were racing toward the dome. Our Warthog was next to the Rhino in formation. The warriors came at us first, and the heavy machine gun rattled on its turret. The tank also fired its main gun, and a pack of Chimera exploded apart, body parts and guys flying in the air in red mist.