by Tripp Ellis
“How many years have I known you? 2? 3? I've never seen your charm actually work.”
“Don’t hate,” he said, playfully. “Just because you have some faulty programing and can’t recognize what I have to offer—”
“I do not have faulty programming.” Her eyes finally glanced to him.
“I'm just saying, you might want to run a diagnostic.”
Violet paused for a moment, pretending to process. “Diagnostic complete." She shook her head. "Nope. Still not feeling it." She flashed a smile, then her eyes went back to the computer screen.
Mitch paced around for a moment. "I want to go get something to eat. Do you want anything?”
“No, thanks. I've got work to do. We need to get this fleet operational ASAP. That virus coded its way into everything. It's a nightmare."
“That means were going to be stuck here for a while, doesn't it?”
“More than likely," she said.
Mitch sighed, then ambled out of the CIC. He weaved through the corridors to the main airlock, then strolled the long gangway down to the ground.
His mouth and nostrils were already full of dust by the time he hit the ground. The incessant wind constantly kicked up the dirt, and the fine granules found their way into every nook and cranny. It was one of the things he hated the most about the planet. And the UV was a killer. 15 minutes in the sun without protection, and you’d have a nice burn.
As he made his way through the shipyard, he saw a work detail of POWs. Armed guards oversaw the prisoners. One of them had pulled a Decluvian aside and was beating him. The prisoner crumpled to his hands and knees. The guard planted several swift kicks into the alien’s ribcage. He was coughing green blood onto the ground.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Mitch yelled.
“Just taking a little disciplinary action, the guard said.
“I think he’s had enough.”
The guard’s face twisted up. “What are you, some kind of sympathizer?"
"This is a violation of the Cygnus Convention. Article III. Prisoners must be treated humanely. Torture is specifically prohibited.”
“I’m not torturing him,” the guard smiled. “Just improving his attitude.”
“Keep beating him senseless, and I'm going to have to improve your attitude.”
The guards face tightened.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you need to back off.”
Some of the other guards came over to back him up.
“This is a big planet,” the guard said. “A man could disappear out here and no one would ever find him. I’d be careful if I were you.”
Mitch glared at the man. His face flushed red with anger. After what they had done, Mitch had no love for the Decluvians. But the Federation had always shown compassion to its enemies. Treated them with dignity. But these guards were private contractors. Mercenaries. They didn’t care about the Cygnus Convention. They took every opportunity to beat and mutilate the POWs for their own entertainment. Perhaps they were as bored as Mitch was. Perhaps they were downright sadistic.
Mitch eyed the intimidating guards that had surrounded him. They were one more reason to hate this planet. And he wasn’t even a prisoner.
7
Tyler
The ready room was filled with a platoon of Navy Reapers—the best of the best. These were the finest warriors in all of the UPDF. Perhaps, all of the galaxy. You didn’t get your special warfare operator badge until you finished Biscuit. And even then, your training wasn't over. There was another two years of Reaper qualifying training after that.
Agent Falcon stood in the corner.
Walker stepped to the podium. “Listen up. This is Weston Elliot. He’s with HK, and he’ll be accompanying the mission in an advisory capacity.” Walker looked like the words were painful to say. “Pay attention to what he has to say, you might learn something.”
Walker stepped down, and Elliott moved to the podium. He ran a video on the display screen. “HK is the largest ore producer in the galaxy. Our facility on Vega Navi 6 is our flagship.”
The video showed a view of Vega Navi from space. The camera swooped in and orbited the planet. It resembled New Earth. Blue oceans, and lush greenery. It looked fresh and unmolested by colonization. The mining facility was the only blemish on the surface of the planet.
“Vega Navi is composed primarily of oxygen, iron, cobatral, and silica. Trapped within that rock are valuable minerals essential to our survival. Plutrontium is a primary component in ion thrusters, composite spacecraft hulls, and even precision surgical instruments.”
“You can skip the commercial, Mr. Elliott,” Walker said.
Elliott cleared his throat. “Of course. Just to stress the importance of the facility, plutrontium is only found on a few planets within the galaxy. Vega Navi 6 being one of them. Our base metals division represents 25% of our overall portfolio.” He had a proud grin on his face.
The team of Reapers weren’t impressed.
The video zoomed into the planet surface, giving an overview of the facility.
Elliott pointed to the screen. “This main structure houses the control systems, living quarters, mess halls, shopping center, and storage areas. These are the processing structures.” Large pipes and conduit twisted through the facility. He pointed to some oval shaped containers. “These are chemical storage tanks. Highly caustic. Highly flammable.”
“In other words, try not to shoot at them,” Walker interjected.
“There are five satellite substations at each of the mine entrances, and a command bunker underground. There are over 700 miles of underground tunnels and shafts on Vega Navi. Its easy to get lost in those tunnels. So, pay attention, if you venture in. The entire facility is powered by 2 Q-core reactors.”
“What are we up against?” Petrov asked.
“Unknown,” Walker said. “Prepare for anything. Just FYI, a platoon of RedRiver contractors went missing last week.”
“Bunch of pussies,” Ramirez shouted.
“Be that as it may, stay sharp out there,” Walker said. “I want everyone on their toes. Something tells me this isn’t going to be a walk in the park.”
Elliott stepped aside, and Walker took over at the podium. He put up an image of Dr. Noble on the screen. The room erupted with whistles and hollers. Holly Noble was a striking woman. She looked like a model, not a quantum biologist.
“This is your mission priority,” Walker said.
“Damn straight, she is,” said Faulkner.
“Now that’s what I call a high value asset,” Petrov said.
Elliott squirmed and his face flushed. He seemed a little jealous.
“Knock it off,” Walker said. “It’s priority one that she be returned safely to New Earth.”
“No problem, Commander,” Petrov said with confidence. “We got this one.”
“Shit. One look at you, she’ll run away,” quipped O’Malley.
Petrov sneered at him. “O’Malley, you ever notice that your kids look like me.”
O’Malley glared at him.
There were hoots and hollers all around.
“Settle down,” Walker shouted. “You can argue paternity later. As much as I want to get out there with you, my responsibilities here have me chained to a desk,” Walker said.
Murmurs of disappointment rumbled through the ready room.
“I’m putting Lieutenant Grimsby in charge of the op.”
Grimsby stepped forward. “Some of you I’ve worked with before. Some of you are new to the team.” Grimsby’s eyes fell on Tyler for an instant. “Master Chief Donovan will be with us, and I can think of no finer NCO. It’s an honor to lead this platoon, and I’m confident we will meet our objectives.”
“Hooyah,” the team said in a somewhat lackluster fashion.
“That’s pathetic. My little niece sounds tougher than you,” Donovan shouted. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Master Chief!” This time, their response was a
bit louder.
“Are you mean?”
“Yes, Master Chief!”
“Are you Reapers?”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
Their response finally seemed to meet with her approval. Val Donovan was tough as nails. She was one of the few female Reapers. They didn’t change the standards for women. They were every bit as tough as men. She had a long and storied career and had earned the respect of everyone who served alongside her. She had a petite, athletic frame that was sexy as hell. Red hair, milky skin, and green eyes. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, knew how to get it, and God help you if you got on her bad side.
Val’s nickname was VD, which she hated for obvious reasons. She had been saddled with it since BSCT. You had to be on her good side to get away with calling her that, otherwise you’d be risking life and limb.
It might have been Grimsby’s platoon, but Donovan was running the show.
“Prep and pack your gear. I want you ladies on the flight deck at 05:45.” Her raspy voice sounded like a bullhorn. “Dismissed!”
“Let’s get this party started,” someone yelled as the platoon filed out of the ready room.
“Ensign Finn,” Donovan shouted as Tyler passed by. “I’d like a word with you, if I may."
The two stepped into the corridor as the rest of the team filed out of the compartment.
“Just so were perfectly clear. When Commander Walker asked my opinion, I didn’t recommend you for promotion. I don't think you're ready for the responsibility of a combat command."
Tyler's face tensed, but he tried to hide his anger. "I trust in the judgment of the board.” Tyler forced a smile. It was the diplomatic thing to say.
“It has nothing to do with my personal opinion of you, or your background,” Donovan said. “My first priority is the safety of the team.”
“As it should be."
“I just thought we should be on the same page. Rest assured that anyone who gets my endorsement has earned it.”
8
Tyler
Tyler crawled into his bunk and pulled the privacy curtain shut. He put on a MindMeld™ neural interface. It was a sleek headband that wrapped from temple to temple. It allowed the user to enter a virtual-reality space and communicate with anyone else who was also wearing the device.
Once you were connected, it was indistinguishable from reality. If you couldn't make it home for the Holidays, you could connect with your loved ones via MindMeld. Of course, you could also spend time in a completely fabricated reality. They were a plethora of uses. Everything from video games to virtual sex.
Once you were connected, the menu allowed you to choose from a variety of options. Tyler scrolled through his contact list and attempted to connect with Eden. If the person you were trying to contact wasn't connected to the network, it would automatically ping their mobile and let them know they had an incoming request.
While Tyler was waiting for the device to connect, he set the environment. Suddenly, he was at the top of a snow covered mountain, looking over a vast mountain range. The air was crisp and clean. He could reach down and feel the cold, powdery snow. A few moments later, Eden emerged from behind a tall spruce. She was marching awkwardly through the snow in high heels.
“If I had known you were going to put us atop a mountain, I would've dressed more appropriately."
“Would you rather be somewhere else? The beach, perhaps?”
She sat next to him and smiled. "No, this is fine. It's not real anyway."
She seemed distracted. Tyler could tell she was searching through the settings on her device. A moment later, her outfit changed. She had on big fluffy boots and a thick coat. “There. Much better.”
“So, what are you up to?" Tyler asked.
"I'm sitting in my trailer, waiting. This is my life. I sit around and wait for a PA to knock on my door and say, They're ready for you, Ms. Kelly.” She sighed. "You were smart to get out."
"They're still filming? Even after the invasion?"
“The show must go on," she said in singsong. She forced a smile. Eden seemed utterly bored with the filmmaking process.
Eden was stunning. Every bit the budding young starlet. She had dark hair, blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and full lips. She was the one piece of Hollywood that Tyler just couldn't let go of.
“What about you? What are you doing?"
"I thought we might go to our favorite restaurant. Have a nice quiet evening. Maybe…” his smoldering eyes implied something hot and heavy.
"I can do dinner. It's not like it's going to add anything to my hips. But we might have to save hot and heavy for later. I don't want to get called to set at an inopportune time, if you know what I mean."
Tyler was a little disappointed, but he hid it well. “Sure, no problem. Just dinner.”
He smiled and scrolled through the navigation options. A moment later, a maître d' was escorting them to a table in a fancy restaurant. Tyler was dressed in a suit and tie, and Eden was wearing the sexiest black dress you've ever seen. It slung low on her back, and her stiletto heels gave her calves the perfect shape.
The ambience of the restaurant was magnificent. The lighting was subdued. Hushed voices, and the clink of silverware, filled the air. Tyler and Eden took their seats, and a waiter brought menus and lit the candles on the table.
The MindMeld device was how they had kept their relationship alive. It was the next best thing to going on a real date.
Some people dated each other without ever meeting in person. Some even got married in the virtual space. It did have a certain appeal. It was safe. You weren't going to catch anything from a virtual partner. You could change your avatar to be more attractive, slimmer, more muscular. Whatever you desired.
You could live your entire life virtually, and many people did. Often to the detriment of their health. Too much time in the virtual space, and your muscles would atrophy from lack of use. Many people had a hard time readjusting to reality after long stretches in the virtual world. Tyler only used it to see Eden. He didn't have time for much else.
They both looked over the menu.
“What are you going to have?" Eden asked.
"I'm going to go with the filet mignon and a side of sautéed mushrooms.”
"Excellent choice," she grinned. “I'm going to have the lobster.”
Tyler nervously fondled the ring in his pocket. It was identical to the real one he had purchased. He decided he’d wait until after dessert.
The waiter took their order, and promptly returned with their entrées. The food was sumptuous. Cooked to perfection. An explosion of culinary delights danced over their taste buds with each bite. The dessert was even more sinful.
Virtual dining had become a problem for many people. It had no nutritional value. It merely stimulated the brain and released dopamine. Sure, it was a way to indulge in an extra piece of cheesecake without feeling guilty. But some people took it to extremes, resulting in malnutrition—the perils of spending the majority of your time in virtual space.
Tyler fidgeted all through dessert. The moment of truth had come. The plates were clean, and their bellies were full. Tyler mustered his resolve. His stomach fluttered. He was more nervous about this than he was about going into battle.
Eden’s eyes went wide as he got down on one knee and presented the ring.
9
Tyler
Eden clutched her hands to her face. She wasn’t expecting this. Tyler could see she was conflicted. He was still on one knee, waiting. Eden wasn’t exactly slipping the ring on her finger.
“You’re keeping me in suspense here.” Tyler let out an uncomfortable chuckle.”
“I, uh…”
“It’s easy. You say yes, slip the ring on, I can get off my knee, and we live happily ever after.”
She was silent a moment. Tyler’s heart was pounding.
“I can’t.”
Tyler’s face drooped. He was crushed. He glanced around the restaurant to see
if anyone was staring at him. They were all virtual patrons, but he still felt embarrassed.
He lowered the ring and climbed back into his chair. He looked dazed. “I thought things were going well between us?”
“You think this is fine?”
Tyler shrugged, hesitantly. He had that dumb look on his face that all guys have when they don’t have a clue why their girl is pissed off.
“We’ve seen each other, what, maybe twice in person in the last two years? That’s not fine. First there was OCS, then you were at BSCT, then Reaper Qualifying Training. Now you’re on deployment. I don’t know when, or if, I’m going to actually see you again.”
“I know these last few years have been difficult. But it's not like we never see each other."
"I hate this virtual-reality stuff. It gives me a headache.”
Tyler was crestfallen.
“Look, I know I bitch a lot about the business, but I like my lifestyle. I like living in New Hollywood. I like making movies. I like the parties.” Eden paused for a moment. “You decided to give that up. And I admire what you're doing. But your lifestyle is not for me. I can't be the woman who sits alone the rest of my life, waiting to get some notification that you died on some planet somewhere.”
"I appreciate your optimism."
Eden frowned.
"Okay, maybe I jumped the gun. No need to rush into anything. We can just take it at the pace we have been and see what happens."
Eden rolled her eyes. "You’re not listening to what I'm saying."
"What you're saying isn't exactly what I want to hear.”
"It isn't always about what you want. You just went and did what you wanted to do. You didn't even ask me how I felt about it. You just showed up one day and said: Hey honey, I'm giving up everything to go be a space marine," she said, mocking him.