Battle ARC: ARC Angel Series Book 2

by Toby Neighbors

  “It’s a pleasure to have you all aboard. The Ramses is proud to be the flagship for the ARC program.”

  “Thank you,” Angel said.

  “Carry on. I’ll get out of your hair.”

  The commander turned and left the room. Angel breathed a sigh of relief. She turned back to Daniels who smiled.

  “You might want to get a shower and change before your big dinner,” she said.

  “I don’t even know where my cabin is,” Angel said.

  “Better get moving then. Beemus and I can handle the suits.”

  “Alright, thanks.”

  “Just doing our jobs, Lieutenant.”

  Angel pulled her data pad from her pocket. It connected to the Ramses network automatically, and she was able to find her quarters. CSF ships weren’t all the same, but they were clearly marked. They were on Delta level, the lowest portion of the ship. It was mainly storage facilities and the massive hanger bay. Enlisted quarters were on Charlie level, including the enlisted mess. Officer quarters and the Bridge were on Bravo level, including the commander’s private Ward Room. Alpha level was recreation and fitness facilities, the officers’ mess, and passengers’ quarters. There was even an observation deck with a dome of transparent, reinforced polymer with a view of outer space.

  Angel’s berth was on Bravo level, and she was happy to find that her ruck sack was stowed inside her locker. She took a hot steam shower, pressed her dress uniform, and even put on a bit of makeup for the dinner with the ship’s commander. She had a message with the time of the event, and did her best not to be nervous as she approached the Ward Room.

  The officer’s on the Minerva all used the Ward Room as their mess hall. It was a simple space, with one long table, and a beverage station. On the Apollo she hadn’t been invited to the Ward Room, and ate in the Officer’s Mess. Both places were built for utility, with cooking and cleaning facilities connected to the rooms where food was served. The Ward Room on the Ramses was different. And as soon as Angel stepped inside she knew she completely unprepared for the elegance and sophistication inside.

  “Our guest of honor has arrived,” Commander Mercer said.

  There were eight people in the room. Commander Mercer and her first officer, Lieutenant Commander Brown. The rest of the officers were all lieutenants, and at least ten years older than Angel. They all turned and clapped politely as Angel stood in the doorway, paralyzed by the sudden attention.

  Brown came over and took her arm.

  “This way, Lieutenant.”

  He led her to a seat beside the head of the table where Mercer was standing behind an ornate looking chair. He moved to the chair opposite Angel, and the other six officers fell in on either side of the table. Angel was amazed at everything she saw. The room was paneled in dark stained wood. The floor was tile, but looked like hardwood. The table was polished mahogany, and the chairs were thickly padded. When Mercer sat, the others followed suit. Angel noticed that the chairs were attached to supports which were locked down into a specially made groove in the floor. She could pull the seat away from the table, and it moved easily. But in the event that the ship came under attack, the chairs locked into position and wouldn’t fall or break.

  Angel sat down and took the linen napkin that was neatly folded on the plate in front of her and laid it across her lap. Almost as soon as they sat down, a door opened and the steward began to pass out small plates that settled neatly on the plates that were already present.

  “First course is blackened white fish, with sautéed greens, and hushpuppies,” the steward said.

  Angel tasted the fish, which was actually diced protein-infused wafers assembled to look like a grilled fish filet. The seasoning was spicy, while the greens were tangy, and the hushpuppies were slightly sweet. The food was well prepared and much better than anything Angel had eaten since joining the CSF.

  “This is excellent,” Mercer said.

  Her steward just bowed and hurried out to make sure his next course was ready. All around her, the other officers ate eagerly, and Angel knew why. She thought the food on board an interstellar ship was good, considering they couldn’t keep fresh meats, and everything was either dehydrated or canned. The cooks were skilled at turning the limited ingredients into good-tasting meals, but gourmet food in the service was rare.

  “Tell me, Lieutenant Murphy, what do you think of the ARC program?”

  Angel was getting used to being asked about the experimental suits and her role in the strategy of the CSF against the Swarm. She still felt a little uncomfortable, partly because the program was classified, and partly because she knew that the Air Force pilots weren’t ready for combat. Speaking ill of superiors was taboo, even if they were from a different branch of service. The classification of the ARC program didn’t really hold since they were all in theater together. The CSF officers in orbit around Neo Terra were probably monitoring every engagement, and reading every after action report, so the fear of speaking out of turn was minimized. The real danger, in Angel’s mind, was saying something that got back to Nance or the other pilots.

  “I’m honored to be part of it, Commander,” Angel said. “The technology is superb.”

  “I’m a little surprised that the platoon commander stayed planet side, but I was hoping to speak with you so perhaps it was fortuitous. I wouldn’t want your Air Force captain to feel slighted.”

  “I doubt that he would,” Angel said, knowing she was telling a lie.

  “Ego’s can be fragile, especially in the close confines of an interstellar ship.”

  Angel nodded just as the steward returned. The fish plates were cleared away, and bowls of cold corn chowder were served. Angel was surprised at how light and refreshing the soup was.

  “It seems your platoon, and Colonel Goldman’s tactics, were successful by the lake,” Lieutenant Commander Brown said.

  “To an extent, yes,” Angel said.

  “What was your take on the battle?” Commander Mercer asked.

  “That it wasn’t really a battle. We killed some of their drones, that’s true. And we got them on the run, but it felt as if they were more prepared than we were.”

  “In what way?” Mercer said, any pretense to the dinner being a casual affair, gone. The commander ignored her soup and gazed at Angel with an intensity that might have been intimidating if Angel didn’t feel just as concerned about the aliens.

  “They changed course, and fled into the lake. But I don’t think it was because they were frightened of us,” Angel said. “It felt more like a prepared response to engaging our forces.”

  “And what is your assessment of the Swarm?” Mercer asked.

  “They’re highly intelligent,” Angel said. “The more I think about it, the more I tend to believe that their mobility is superior to our own.”

  “They proved that at Port Gantry, in my opinion,” Brown said.

  “Go on, Lieutenant,” Mercer encouraged.

  “Well, we need a large force to really threaten them,” Angel said. “And moving our forces into position takes time and coordination. Our leaders have been trained to fight in a certain way.”

  “Which is?” Mercer asked.

  Angel felt a little out of her depth. She had spent a single day of OTS learning about strategy and tactics. The people around her were career military, who no doubt had spent much more time studying military history than Angel. But she knew from her short experience exactly what Colonel Goldman’s next move would be.

  “To find a battlefield that gives our people an advantage over the Swarm,” Angel said. “It’s always been successful in human warfare, but not with the Swarm. At Port Gantry, the aliens not only sensed the trap, but laid one for us. At lakeside, they simply turned away and out maneuvered us.”

  “What about your battle in the mountains,” Mercer asked. “What was different there?”

  Angel smiled. The Commander had probably guessed that Angel had an idea about her small victory in the mountains. It was jus
t a passing thought, a mere possibility in the grand scheme of things one might say, but she decided to share it.

  “I think the difference was our numbers,” Angel said. “There weren’t enough of us to be considered a threat. Added to the fact that in the ARC suits we are extremely fast and mobile, even over rough terrain, we took the Swarm by surprise. There were other factors in our favor too — the terrain, the explosive ordnance we were able to use, the element of surprise. Perhaps it was the perfect storm, so to speak, but I think the Swarm sees our massed forces as a danger that is easier to avoid that overcome.”

  “And small, mobile units are the answer?” Brown said. “Is that just special forces rhetoric?”

  “No, wait a second,” Mercer said. “Maneuverability has always been a great asset in battle. And while getting a large force in position is difficult and takes time, no one would discount the effectiveness of it. But we must open our minds to new ideas and new ways of fighting. Lieutenant Murphy has a point, we aren’t fighting each other, but a species we don’t know very well, and certainly don’t understand. So far, our tactics have been less than successful.”

  “But small groups can’t kill enough of the Swarm to make a difference,” Brown argued.

  “I think we’re still learning just what the ARC squads are able to do,” Angel replied.

  “What if...” Mercer began, but stopped abruptly as the steward returned.

  “For the main course,” he said. “Chicken Fried Steak, with country gravy, sweet potato hash, and cornbread.”

  He smiled at the group of officers, and it took Mercer a moment to back away from the idea that had captured her attention. She nodded to the steward as he set plates on the table.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  “Oh, my pleasure commander. I hope you enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Mercer said.

  Angel wondered how the protein wafers could be breaded and fried, but her mouth watered at the sight of her food. She wasn’t even very hungry after the first two small courses, but the aroma of the main dish made her want to eat every bite of it.

  Before she could, the intercom in the Ward Room beeped and a voice spoke from a hidden speaker.

  “Commander, the storm on Neo Terra has dissipated and we’ve picked up the Swarm again. Colonel Goldman’s forces are mobilizing and request the ARC platoon to rejoin the Marine battalion on the ground.”

  “Very good,” Mercer said, rising to her feet. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this meal short. Brown, get me a status report on the ARC platoon drop ship. I’ll accompany Lieutenant Murphy back to her Ready Room.”

  “Thank you for the meal,” Angel said, getting up and hoping the regret she felt over not getting to enjoy the food didn’t show too much on her face. It didn’t help that several other officers were quietly wolfing down the rich, southern fare.

  “We’ll try again when things settle down a bit,” Mercer said.

  31

  C.S.F. Ramses, close orbit,

  Neo Terra, Tau Ceti system

  “The Battle ARC has been fully repaired, Commander,” Brown said over Mercer’s personal comlink that was built into a smart device on her wrist. “She needs a little body work, but the airframe is intact and the electrical systems have all been repaired.”

  “Excellent, LC. I’ll meet you on the Bridge,” Mercer replied.

  Angel couldn’t help but overhear the conversation as she and Commander Mercer hurried through the ship toward the ARC Ready Room just outside the hanger where the drop ship was prepping for its flight down to the planet.

  “How is your relationship with Colonel Goldman?” Mercer asked Angel.

  “Fine, I think,” Angel said.

  “Sometimes officers have trouble taking ideas from anyone outside their own branch of service,” Mercer said. “But I have some thoughts regarding what you said about small unit tactics.”

  “I’m all ears,” Angel said. “The Colonel told me to come to him with any ideas I had.”

  “Excellent. Are you familiar with medieval-style hunting?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” Angel said.

  Mercer waved as if it didn’t matter.

  “I doubt Goldman will have time to change his plans,” Mercer went on. “He’s probably doing exactly what you predicted. By the time you get planet-side he’ll have his battalion dug into a position directly in the path of the Swarm. If you’re right, the aliens will just turn aside and the Colonel will be forced to scramble his Marines to try and catch them.”

  “But you have another idea?” Angel prompted.

  “I do. In medieval times, houndsmen were employed to track animals through the forest. They flushed their quarry toward the hunters.”

  “And you think the ARC platoon could do the same thing with the Swarm?” Angel said, considering the idea.

  “Yes, perhaps. It would take coordinated effort from several fast-moving groups,” Mercer said. “with high-altitude surveillance to ensure that every group could keep tabs on the aliens. It is possible that the Swarm could split or do something unexpected. Just because we haven’t seen them do it, doesn’t mean they can’t.”

  “It’s an excellent idea,” Angel said. “I’ll share it with Colonel Goldman.”

  “Be careful,” Mercer said. “We’ll be watching.”

  Angel saluted, and Commander Mercer returned the show of respect before moving on. Angel watched her go for a few seconds. It was the first time she really felt accepted and valued by a superior officer other than Colonel Jakobson. Angel hadn’t been happy about being assigned to the Ramses, but she thought at that moment that perhaps she’d been wrong.

  In the Ready Room, Angel found her squad already getting suited up.

  “No rest for the wicked, huh LT?” Hays said.

  “You would know,” Vancini taunted.

  “What’s the status on the ARC suits?” Angel asked.

  “We’re green across the board,” Daniels replied.

  “Will will be joining the rest of the platoon on this mission?” Chief Warrant Officer Beemus asked.

  Angel saw the other Air Force technicians look up, expectantly as she nodded.

  “That’s right. I’m sure we’ll be reconnecting with Captain Nance and his squad. They’ll need assistance with their suits. From now on, unless you are ordered otherwise, we all stay together.”

  “Roger that,” Beemus said with a smile.

  “I’ll bet you Air Force pukes are anxious to get off this tub,” Bolton said.

  “We wouldn’t mind a little fresh air,” Beemus said.

  “Even if you’re fighting for your lives again,” Cash asked.

  “I thought we made a pretty good team,” the NCO replied.

  “Here, here,” said another of the technicians.

  “I agree,” Angel said. “And with the second ARC squad, there’s plenty of work for everyone. Do we have weapons and ammunition ready to go?”

  “We’re locked and loaded,” Cash said. “The maintenance crew let us load up the armory on the Battle ARC while they made repairs.

  “What about additional battery coils and back up equipment?” Angel continued. “We need ARC suit recharging stations and portable terminals.”

  “It’s all packed and ready to be loaded onto the ship,” Daniels said. “Some of the Naval crew should be doing it now.”

  Angel pulled the ARC suit into place while Petty Officer Daniels secured the bindings. A quick check showed her helmet was fully charged and synced to her suit.

  “I want all the equipment checked as soon as we’re on board,” Angel said. “I have a feeling that Captain King isn’t too concerned with a smooth flight and we don’t need anything breaking loose.”

  “Roger that,” Cash said.

  “Once we’re on the ground, the technicians stay with the Battle ARC. Get your terminals plugged in. I want careful observation of everyone’s suits, but especially the new squad.”

  “We’ll
make sure they’re ready, Lieutenant,” Beemus said.

  “Good. I doubt they’ll take a reserve position, and they aren’t as familiar with their suits as the rest of us. I want your people to connect with them, Beemus. They’re used to obeying flight control from a ground crew.”

  “We can do that,” he said.

  “Very good. Are we ready?”

  “Born ready,” Hays said with a grin.

  “Bravo squad is ready,” Cash added.

  “Tech team is ready,” Daniels said.

  “Let’s go!” Angel ordered.

  They left the Ready Room and went directly to the hanger. It was a cavernous space, much larger than any other room on the ship. There were racks of tools, hoses dangled from the ceiling, and large cranes used to lift ships into cradles that would move them into the air lock and out of the ship. The Battle ARC sat with her tail ramp open. Angel saw a few naval techs securing equipment inside.

  “Bravo squad on the right,” she ordered. “Tech team on the left.”

  The members of her platoon obeyed without question. Unlike Nance’s squad of pompous flyers, the rest of Angel’s platoon had been deployed and seen action together. They respected her as their CO, just as she looked to each of them to help her make decisions and lead the platoon. Their bond was secure, and Angel hoped that nothing changed that.

  “ARC platoon on board,” Angel said after putting her helmet on and activating the radio.

  “Roger that,” Captain King replied. “Good to have you aboard.”

  “We are checking the cargo and then strapping in,” Angel said.

  “Four minutes until go time, Lieutenant. Make sure you get your seatbelts on before that.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Belaire District, south of Lake Excelsior. Lots of farmland out there. We’ll be joining the Marine battalion at the Macintosh Farming Co-op.”

  Angel sat in her seat and fastened her restraints, pulling them tight to ensure that she wouldn’t be tossed around the cabin when they bounced through the planet’s atmosphere. Cash sat next to her and nodded as he tightened his own straps.

  “Everything looks secure, Lieutenant,” he said.