by Rod Carstens
The drop ship lurched violently upward and then with just as much force, was thrown downward in the thin poisonous atmosphere of the exoplanet. Corporal Ja Hu and the rest of his platoon in the troop compartment fought to stay in their drop seats. If they hadn’t been strapped in, they would have bounced off the overhead and then the deck. Hu began to wonder if he would live long enough to die in battle.
Although he was a veteran now, Hu was more scared than he'd been the first time he'd seen battle on Rift. When the Xotoli attacked Rift, he'd been fresh out of training and just off his home mining planet. Maybe he'd been too ignorant to be afraid. He hadn't known what to expect. No one had. No human had ever fought an alien invasion force. The reality had been worse than any nightmare. The Xotoli had used human-Xotoli hybrids to do their fighting on Rift. Hybrids that moved faster than any human and were as strong as he was in his powered armor. Hybrids who loved to close for the kill in hand-to-hand combat, brutal face-to-face fights to the death. It was all coming back to him in a series of scenes filled with blood, fear, explosions, and killing blows with laser knifes and fighting axes.
He had survived and earned his close combat clasp. So he'd thought the wait before battle would be easier. Instead, his stomach tightened into a familiar knot of fear and anticipation.
The problem, he realized, was he knew all too well what he was facing. Hu knew that being scared would help keep him alive, but reliving his combat experiences sucked. He sat with the rest of his platoon aboard a Special Operations Craft that was headed for a combat insertion on a Von Fleet mining planet held by the Xotoli. Their mission was to destroy the outpost and grab as much intelligence as they could manage in the few short hours of the raid.
The SOC was tossed about again, pressing Hu into his seat. He wondered if the straps would hold up under the strain. He was glad he wasn’t able to see the other marine's faces they were hidden behind armor. Hu was afraid he’d feed off any fear he saw in their eyes. He could still see the small things that let him know he wasn’t the only one who was scared shitless: the leg that was bouncing up and down, the compulsive movement of hands over equipment that had already been checked a dozen times. No, he was in good company.
He glanced at his heads-up display and called up the blueprints of the mining facility's control center. The Von Fleet engineers had provided all the information the Marines could use about the facilities. Hu's squad was to breach the outer and inner airlock door of the control center. They were to kill all the hybrids in the room, and then move to the server farm through a door at the rear of the room. From there they would breach the door to the computer server room for the second squad coming in behind them. They would download as much information as time would permit. Third platoon was to provide over watch for first and second platoons while Hu and his fire team cleared the control center. In the mean time, Bravo Company would destroy the Von Fleet Crystal Main Mining Facility. Once Hu and the rest of the Raiders had finished smashing up the place, they would be extracted, and the Navy would have their turn. Two destroyers were in orbit, ready to pulverize the facilities, denying the Xotoli further use of the planet without destroying its resources.
The SOC craft continued to bounce and the fear of dying before he ever put his feet on the ground raised its ugly head. He had become obsessed with dying in a SOC crash in training. Old Swift Boats had been reconfigured into SOCs to insert platoon Marines. A SOC had gone down in training, and an entire platoon of Marines had been lost. He had known many of them; they had survived Rift only to die in a training accident
Hu thought that had to be the worst way to die: sitting in the dark, strapped in so tightly that you can barely move, and then plummeting to a fiery death because someone else made a mistake. All Hu asked was for a chance to get into the fight. If he was going to be killed, he wanted to be the one to make the mistake.
"Sorry about that, boys and girls, but this shitty little planetoid has got some turbulence. Three minutes. I repeat, three minutes," the SOC pilot said.
Hu went through his armor checklist display for what felt like the tenth time.
Armor Interface: Optimum Combat network: Green
Heads up AI: Synced
Medical Sys: Green
Analgesic: 2mg
Air Supply: 72 hrs.
Atmosphere: Green
Type: Neg
EW: Neg
ECM: Jam PLRS: On Video: On
Weapon Type: RC 48 Amount: 3000 Batt: 72 hours
Nothing had changed. His batteries were in the green. The interface plug behind his ear had optimal information flow. The suit was an extension of his body, not a tool that he consciously controlled. The suit magnified his strength, protected him from enemy fire, sealed him off from biological weapons, and the targeting system made his weapons more deadly. He topped off the life support system with air and water from the SOC one last time. He was linked to both the platoon's and company's combat network, so each Marine's suit could share critical information. The AI module was green. It was the latest enhancement to the suit. It sorted through the input from sensors, other Marines, the platoon's network, the company's network, sniffers and drones, and displayed only the most critical data. They had found on Rift that the average grunt would reach information overload and lose awareness of his immediate surroundings. He remembered the instructor's words: "We don't want to lose a Marine because a pretty display is hiding the mean hybrid about to cut your damned head off!"
The ammunition feed to his weapon showed three thousand rounds in the drum on his back. His medical system was loaded and had a good connection to the central venous lock under his clavicle. Hu had set the painkiller at two mg, but his legs were still killing him. He upped the drip to three mg. Since his new legs had been grown after Rift, they had never stopped hurting him. The pain brought back those hazy, drug-induced weeks of agony and healing. The drugs had allowed him to begin training, but he still needed a little something on board to help him perform. And today, he needed a little more of it to make it through what was lying ahead. He wasn’t the only one to juice himself. Almost everyone with new limbs was juicing. He didn't care that the doctors called it phantom pain. The pain certainly didn’t feel phantom; it just hurt. Grunts had been living on painkillers for centuries, since they had always carried packs on their backs with no powered assistance. A little more juice made him a green giant. He was good to go in his armor and green across the board.
Hu switched the heads up to the SOC's video feed. It showed the ship’s approach. Despite the choppy ride, they were in the optimum insertion cone. Like the rest of his squad, Hu sat with his back to the port bulkhead, facing inboard. Another squad was seated amidships, facing forward. A third squad was on the starboard bulkhead. Only low red launch lights overhead illuminated the compartment, with their black nano-fitted armor hiding their faces the others in his platoon looked like evil black and red robots. Hu could still recognize each man and woman. They had spent so much time in the armor, he could tell who was who just from their body language. In the dim red light, all he could see was the menacing red glow of dual optical lenses creating a line of nightmarish robotic faces, but they were faces he had come to trust and depend on in any situation.
"Hu, have your fire team do an equipment check," Nani snapped.
As squad leader, Nani had personally down checked each of the Marines in her squad before they were loaded into the SOC, but they were using new armor, new equipment, and new weapons.
"Check. Second fire team, check your armor and weapons. I want to see nothing but green giants. Lena, wake up Gras." Everyone handled stress differently. Gras could sleep while those around him were so wired sleep would elude them for days. "He's asleep again."
Lena hit Gras on the helmet.
"I'm awake. I'm awake," Gras mumbled.
"Equipment check," Hu said
"All right. I got it."
Each Marine checked his weapon, tactical vest, mini grenades, deployable sensors, mini mines, rail pist
ol, and all the other forms of nastiness each of them carried. The men and women of the platoon were all veterans, so their movements were swift and sure. Some reached down and patted the fighting ax strapped to their legs. The Xotoli-human hybrids loved close hand-to hand combat. This made a fighting ax just as critical as rail rifles. Bred from captured human children, the hybrid fighters looked exactly like humans, but were stronger and faster. Well, they looked like humans on some sort of super steroid that had made them faster and stronger than any human could ever possibly be. The powered armor leveled the field, even then it was a close thing, Hu thought.
Instead of an axe, Hu carried a sharpened shovel. Hu reached down to pat his leg. Growing up in the mines of a Von Fleet resource planet, he felt more comfortable with one in his hands. Fights in the mines were settled with shovels. His father had spent long hours teaching him how to use one as a devastating weapon. Hu’s sharpened shovel had saved his life more than once on Rift. He compulsively carried it now as a talisman. As long as he had his shovel, he would be all right in combat.
As he checked his gear, he glanced at the new corporal stripes on his armored arm. When the battle on Rift had begun, Hu had been a private, a "Fucking New Guy." Neither Nani nor any of the other fire team members had even known his name. By the time the battle was over, he and Nani were the team’s only survivors. Separated from the rest of their platoon, they had saved each other’s lives time and again over the course of that day. By the day's end, Hu had lost both of his legs, and his shoulder had been held together by little more than nanos and spit. Nani hadn’t been in much better shape. Now, they were headed back into battle together as NCOs.
Major Aijuba ran the Raider battalion like a Wolf unit, meaning the new NCOs had been elected by their squad mates. All of the surviving NCOs from Rift had been promoted, which had left a number of vital slots open, so new NCOs had been desperately needed. Using the old Wolf tradition of election of NCOs had guaranteed that the enlisted leadership would be the most respected men and women in the unit. No longer the FNG, Hu was now a corporal in charge of his own fire team. Nani had been promoted to sergeant and was now Hu’s squad leader.
Hu wasn’t sure he deserved to be a corporal. Other members of his platoon had more combat experience, but he had become something of a legend by surviving Rift as a FNG and saving Nani’s life. She had not been shy about singing his praises, and Nani never did that … about anybody.
When he’d told Nani about his doubts, he’d been told to shut up, trust his mates, and learn as much as he could before the mission. “Trust your instincts,” she’d said; they had gotten them through Rift, hadn’t they? He’d be fine. But Hu didn’t feel fine. In addition to the fear, he felt the weight of the lives of the men and women on his fire team. Now he was responsible for three other Marines. He had to make sure they performed and survived. They depended on him to bring them through the raid alive.
Hu glanced at his heads-up display. All of his troops were in the green except Gras.
"Gras, what's the hold up?"
"Corporal, it's this damned new armor. My life support is showing red again."
"Lean forward. Lena, give it a smack," Hu said
Gras leaned forward as far as he could in his harness so that Lena, sitting next to him, could give the life support module on his back a hard smack with her armored hand.
"Nothing. Do it again," Gras said.
This time, she wound up and really pounded it.
"Shit, Lena, don't break it. It's green now, Corporal. Are you reading the same?"
"Check." Hu switched to the squad leaders comm channel and reported. "Fire team One all green."
"Roger,” Nani replied.
The turbulence seemed to be increasing. Hu could feel the pilot struggling for control of the ship. The SOC was thrown almost completely onto its back before the pilot regained control. Hu gripped his M48 rail across his chest and tried not to think about the violent rolls of the SOC.
#
Sergeant Mala Nani waited as the other two of her fire teams reported all green. The squad was ready. She knew they were ready, but she had them re-check their equipment anyway to take their minds off the damned turbulence. Nani had learned a long time ago not to worry about things you can’t control. Just relax and let it happen. Being sold as a sex slave in her early teens had taught her a lot about survival skills. Those lessons proved invaluable in the old legion and now the Marines.
While the turbulence didn’t bother Nani, what did worry her was the fact that the briefing hadn’t mentioned it. If the Intel guys and planners had missed the simple fact that there was severe turbulence in the atmosphere, she wondered what else they had missed.
Nani's squad was responsible for clearing the main control center and then moving to the dome behind it and clearing the dormitories and stores. In the briefing, the guys from Intelligence showed them video, a blueprint from Von Fleet, and stills of the facility from the drone passes showed no signs of hardening or defensive positions. The Xotoli were stripping the planet of its critical minerals: iridium for growing crystals, palladium for fuel cells, and rhodium for measuring neutron flux levels. When they were finished, they would crack it open for the prized Von Fleet crystals at its core. From there they would move on to other resource rich asteroids and planets.
The raid was the first step toward retaking all of the planets and territory the Xotoli had seized. Nani’s didn’t care about the politics. Her only priorities were the mission and her squad. She'd let the men and women with the brass on their shoulders make the strategic decisions. But there was one thing about this mission that Nani didn’t like: there were too many new pieces put together too quickly. The unit was new, the armor was new, and the weapons were new. And on top of all that, they were fighting an enemy they still didn’t completely understand. All of this uncertainty was a disaster waiting to happen. If anything was going to go wrong, she knew, she could count on it to do so in the midst of combat. But she wanted some payback for Rift. She had volunteered for the Raiders to take part in exactly this type of operation. She couldn't bitch about it now. She had taken her ticket, and it was time to take her chance. She’d been around long enough to accept it.
"Stand by. One minute on final approach for insertion."
"Roger. One minute," Lieutenant Chesmu Taro said. "Lock and load."
"First squad, one minute. Lock and load," Nani repeated.
No one said a word in reply, only the sound of rail bolts slamming rounds into chambers filled the SOC. Nani loaded her own 48. They were about to become the first human infantry ever inserted onto a hostile planet.
Lieutenant Taro was new in his position as well. He had been a career enlisted man before Rift and one of the best NCOs in the old legion. He was also one of the best at losing his stripes while on liberty. Taro had distinguished himself on Rift during the fight at fleet headquarters. When they disbanded the legion and formed the new Marine Corps, he had received a battlefield promotion to lieutenant. Now he was in charge for the first time.
In addition to Taro, Staff Sergeant Kifle Elias had also been recently promoted. She, too, had earned a reputation for being one of the best in the old legion. Nani knew both of them well and had served with them over the years. They were two people she didn’t have to worry about. If the shit did hit the fan, as she fully expected, she knew they’d be right there in the thick of things with her.
"Stand by," the pilot said over the intercom.
Nani's seat extended over the drop bay and rotated so that she was facing forward behind Lieutenant Taro and Staff Sergeant Elias. Taro would be the first to drop with the rest of the platoon following after. The idea was to drop them in one long skirmish line. The other two boats, carrying the rest of the company, were dropping their Marines in two lines on their right flank. If the insertion came off, the entire company would be able to organize quickly and attack their objective.
The drop doors below Nani flashed open. She got her first
glimpse of the planetoid. A jagged and rocky surface rushed by beneath her, black rock patched with snow and ice. Winds blew the snow and ice around with blizzard-like force. Nani's heads-up read five hundred feet.
The SOC was too high; they were supposed to drop at one hundred feet not five! If they dropped now the platoon would miss their drop zone and be scattered all over hell and back, not to mention casualties from dropping so high.
Nani began to think how she could adjust her retros and gyros in her suit to compensate. The SOC was suddenly driven downward by another burst of wind. It was as if the pilot was learning how to ride the wind. The drop light in the compartment turned green.
"Drop, drop, drop!" the pilot shouted.
Nani watched as Lieutenant Taro’s seat ejected him through the drop doors. He was immediately carried aft by the wind. Elias was next. She disappeared into the whiteout below. Nani assumed the drop position in her seat: head down, feet together, and arms crossed over her chest and RC48. Then her seat ejected her, and she was catapulted out of the drop doors, her feet angling toward the nose of the SOC and into its slipstream.
The ejection seat was designed to launch Nani at exactly the right angle to let the SOC’s slipstream straighten her into a vertical landing position. The drop pack attached to her armor gyro and altimeter monitored her altitude and was firing constantly as the crosswind blew her offline.
The wind was so strong she felt her legs begin to come up. Unless her suit compensated she would tumble, if you tumbled you died. Your suit could never recover in time for a proper landing. Then her drop pack thrusters fired, pushing her back to vertical.
Nani watched her altimeter; it still showed a one hundred feet. The winds were actually keeping her aloft. She glanced at her pitch and yaw indicators; she was being pushed sideways by the winds. Her landing zone was on her right now. The gyros weren’t handling the winds. She continued to drift left, away from her drop point. She twisted her body, trying to help the gyro thrusters, but the wind was too much, and it continued to push her left.