“You’re going to need a ship, then.” Rames pointed out.
Hamilton nodded. “I have some ideas about that. Again, a lot of it will playing by ear as we go. Mars has a pretty large surface spaceport ten klicks north of Olympus. I’m hoping we’ll find something there.”
“It doesn’t explain how you plan to get to Mars in the first place.” Jones added.
Rames nodded at Jones. “That’s right. If security is as tight as you say, how do you expect to get anywhere near Mars?”
“I’m planning on hitching a ride.” He flipped the remote buttons again. This time a generic asteroid mining facility appeared.
“Sol has a lot of mining operations going on in the main asteroid belt. In fact, most of the belt is taken up with mining and processing facilities. Sixty percent of all ores and minerals used by the Empire originates there.
“What I plan to do is to use the Skip Drive to jump in among the belt’s asteroids. There is so much additional rubble and debris from the mining ops that sensors aren’t reliable. Once there, we find one of the many automated transports that run between Mars and the asteroids and attach the maintenance vessel to it. We ride it all the way to Mars. Then we switch to one of the freight shuttles taking the refined metals down to the surface. Once there, all we have to do is make our way to the Science Institute.”
There was silence.
“I thought my mission was crazy.” Rames muttered.
Hamilton shrugged. “Difficult yes. Impossible, no. Which is why I’m calling for volunteers to accompany me. Obviously, anyone that is better used on the array mission, like Veltin, won’t be considered. Marines, I’d love to have one or two of you, but you’re more use to Captain Rames and you’re used to each other’s way of doing things. Tech guys, same deal. You’ll be needed to get into the array’s systems to get at the data. Best if you all work on that. But I’ll need someone versed in piloting, someone good with security circumvention and one or two people for muscle. Five or six people, tops, including me.”
Everyone looked around at each other expectantly, seeing who would bite first. Hamilton already knew who was likely to volunteer, but he pointedly refused to make obvious eye contact with any of them.
“I guess I’m your pilot, then.” LeGault sighed. “Can’t say I’m thrilled about the idea. But I’ll do it.”
Jones sighed. “I suppose I’m the security guy, then. I don’t see I’ll be much use on the array mission anyhow, since you intend to fry everything into submission. Williams and Marten can handle the data collection. I’m in.”
“Guess I could be some use if there’s trouble.” Carl offered. “All that bodyguard training has to pay off somehow.”
“I suppose I could be useful.” Johnson argued. “I’m crap at most things related to all this macho nonsense. But I am a capable scientist. I may come in useful when we get to the Institute.”
Hamilton had opened his mouth to say no but what she said made sense.
Besides. He told himself. You just don’t want to put her in any danger. That’s the real reason you don’t want her along.
So instead of saying no, he said. “Okay.”
Johnson looked surprised that he’d agreed but then beamed at him happily.
She won’t think it’s such a good idea if we get caught. He thought.
“I think I’ll come along as well.” Klane stated. “I’m not terrible much use aboard a ship and I’d only get in the way of the Marines during the landing actions.”
Hamilton nodded. “You have a tendency to stand out in a crowd, though.”
She shrugged. “I’ll wear a hat. Nobody will notice me!”
“The eye?” Hamilton prompted.
She frowned. “Oh that! That’s not an issue.” Abruptly the baleful glow that had always been present faded away. “It’s only an effect, after all. It serves no useful purpose other than intimidation.”
Hamilton snorted. He hadn’t known she could turn off the glow. “Alright then. That’s six in total. More than enough.”
“Since we effectively have to make plans as we go along, I’ve taken the liberty of assembling all the relevant information from the database onto these data flakes.” Hamilton told them, indicating a bag of the tiny storage flakes on a table below the display panel. “Blue ones are for the array, red ones are for Sol system. I suggest everyone grabs them and makes themselves familiar with the data during our hyperspace transits.
“I know this isn’t the kind of in-depth briefing many of you are used to. But we simply can’t plan for every eventuality. We have access to the database on Ulysses, but that is hardly exhaustive. Plus we don’t have the ability to do any kind of reconnaissance other than when we actually arrive on mission. Our enemy has the ability to react almost instantly to what we do. Whilst I would like to think we can coordinate our missions, the reality is that the best we can do is set a time for the commencement of our twin objectives. After that, all is in the wind. Everyone needs to be on their toes and able to react to changing circumstances.
“Other than the objectives that I’ve given us, the actual steps to achieve those are as flexible as it is possible to get. Use your best judgment, but the objectives should come first. Other concerns are secondary. Destroy the array, capture an alien, recover any data for one team. Kidnap a scientist for mine. Remember, the fate of our entire species may hinge on our success or failure.”
Hamilton looked at the assembled faces and grinned. “No pressure!”
There were a few nervous releases of tension in the form of laughs and snorts, but there was little doubt that the men and women looking at him knew how dangerous their tasks would be.
“That is all.”
The meeting broke up slowly. As usual, Rames found Hamilton and took him aside.
“This is a hell of a thing we’re going to do.” The captain told him.
“You understood what I meant about the objectives being the most important thing?”
Rames nodded. “I heard you. We all did. This stunt at Aurica was lucky. We didn’t lose any people. No one got hurt. I have the feeling things won’t stay that way. We all understand the importance of what we’re doing. But understanding the importance means nothing when it comes to pulling the trigger, or pressing the button and consigning people to their deaths. There’s an automatic hesitation when it comes to that point. I just hope that hesitation is not what gets us all killed.”
Hamilton nodded but he had no words of wisdom for Rames. If the truth be told, Rames was more career military than Hamilton was. The Survey Corps were hardly militant and the few groups of mercs that Hamilton had run with had sometimes been less than disciplined themselves. Hamilton, though, would make the hard decisions if it came to it. It wasn’t military training that had made him that way. It was simply life. He had seen what happened when people hesitated, or thought too long about what they were doing, or the consequences. People got killed. Time enough to regret your actions later but, if you hesitated, later sometimes never came. But there was nothing he could say to Rames, or any of the others to make them understand that. Training was one thing. Experience was something else.
As Rames walked away to talk with his men, Klane wandered up, her eye now restored to its full menacing glory.
“Nice speech.” She smirked. “Not that it makes a lot of difference. I just hope people understand what’s at stake.”
“Well, if they don’t now, they soon will.” He replied.
She nodded. “You appreciate that you and I, and perhaps the Marines, are the only ones with any kind of battle experience in this group?”
Hamilton nodded. “I’ve reviewed the Marines files. Mostly it’s just skirmish work against smugglers and pirates. Some riot control, that sort of thing. Only Harvan has actually been in a proper battle.”
She shook her head. “Perhaps I should have stayed with them.”
“I don’t think it’ll make that much difference. Most of their troubles will be space-born o
nes. An extra pair of boots on the ground there won’t matter much.” He replied.
She nodded. “Oh well, I suppose I should go see what sorts of weaponry they have aboard Ulysses. We can’t go around kidnapping people unarmed, now can we?”
“We’re supposed to be doing this quietly!” Hamilton reiterated. “I don’t intend to go in guns blazing!”
She snorted. “Since when did anything we planned ever go as we intended? I’m just thinking ahead for when it all goes to rat shit!”
Hamilton frowned. “I suppose you’re right. I doubt they’ll have anything too heavy aboard, anyhow. Probably just stunners and light arms. A few stun grenades and blinders. Nothing major.”
“Every little helps.” Klane advised. “Plus it’ll keep me happy during the journey.”
Hamilton nodded. “You deal with outfitting, then.”
She grinned and walked off to talk to Harvan. Hamilton was lost in thought for a moment until a familiar hand snaked around his waist.
“Hey!” Johnson smiled at him.
“Hey yourself.” He smiled back.
“Thanks.” She said.
He sighed. “I suspect you’ll regret volunteering once the fun begins but, you’re welcome.”
She shrugged. “I expect I will as well. But I can hardly just wait aboard the Morebaeus whilst everyone else disappears off to do battle!”
Hamilton wanted to try and dissuade her. To get her to change her mind. There was much she didn’t know about their mission. Much that none of them knew. But it was her decision. She had as much right as anyone else to risk her life. Whatever feelings he might have for her, he had no right to let those feelings dictate what she could and couldn’t do.
“Well,” He told her. “Klane and I will give you, Jones, LeGault and Carl what basic hand-to-hand and weapons training we can during the trip to Sol. But it won’t be a lot, given the time available. If we’re lucky, we’ll get in, grab our expert, then be gone without being noticed, so you won’t need any of it.”
“But it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?” She nodded.
He agreed. “Absolutely. But that can wait until we’re underway tomorrow. Tonight, I believe I’ll train you in ‘undercover’ work.”
She gave out a snorting laugh. “Seriously? That’s the best line you could come up with? Boy are we in trouble!”
Hamilton looked sheepish. “I thought it was pretty good, for a spur of the moment comment!”
She shook her head. “Noooo. Not really!”
“So, you’re not interested in a private one-on-one session, then?”
She glanced at him wickedly. “I didn’t say that!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Morebaeus and Ulysses made the jump for Sol system a few hours later without incident.
As promised, the journey was filled with what training Klane and Hamilton could give the others. Carl already had some pretty good hand-to-hand skills, so he quickly began helping out with the training sessions, rather than being trained, which meant that everyone was getting one-on-one training in hand-to-hand.
As far as weapons training went they were limited to what Klane had scrounged from aboard the Ulysses. As they had surmised, this consisted of stun pistols and grenades. In an uncharacteristic fit of common sense, Klane had left the stun rifles aboard the Ulysses, citing that they weren’t exactly concealable and that the pistols would turn someone into a quivering heap on the floor just as well as the rifles did.
So they trained with the pistols they had. It was hardly an exhaustive course. Stun pistols were very short on range and rather indiscriminate when it came to aiming, having a fairly wide angle of effect. They were designed to be as easy to use as possible, since they were often the weapon of choice for civilian guards and police forces. There was little or no maintenance requirements and the only moving part was the trigger assembly. Klane had brought back a charging station from Ulysses, so they could actually fire the weapons in the training and not worry about discharging them before the mission even started.
As part of the training, Hamilton had the others allow themselves to be shot with a stunner, so that they would understand what the effects were. These typically included uncontrollable muscle spasms and a complete inability to consciously do anything. The victim was aware that something had happened, but it wasn’t until the effects began to wear off that they were able to make any sense of what had happened at all. It was not a pleasant experience.
As far as grenades were concerned the main thrust of the training boiled down to “Throw them away from you!” Klane wanted to practice with processed food tins rather the actual grenades when it came to throwing techniques, but Hamilton felt it was more important that the others get used to the feel of the actual grenade in their hand. In his experience, grenades needed to be treated with respect but, typically, those who had never handled one before found them a little frightening. Getting comfortable with them in your hand, or pocket, was all part and parcel of not being afraid of them.
So they practiced lobbing the live grenades about, much to Klane’s disgust. But, as Hamilton pointed out, the worst that could happen was that they’d stun or gas themselves. That in itself would prove to be an object lesson.
As it happened, there were no mishaps and the combat training was concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned.
In between the weapon and hand-to-hand, they learned basic tactics. It was easy enough to grasp the concepts for all concerned. The reality was a little harder. Moving as a unit, for example, rather than individuals, required everyone to know what their role was and to carry it out regardless of what went on around them. There was a tendency for the others to watch what each other was doing rather than what they themselves should be doing.
They were no worse, though, than any other set of green recruits Klane or Hamilton had come across. Better, in many instances, since they all had a certain maturity that straight-out-of-school kids lacked. They still laughed at each other when they did dumb things, but they appreciated the seriousness of the task ahead, unlike raw recruits.
They also received some training with the concealable body armor Klane had liberated from the Marines on Ulysses. It wasn’t especially good, but it could be worn under normal clothing without being obvious and gave some protection against small arms fire due to its ballistic fiber weave. More often than not, Hamilton knew, being shot with a projectile whilst wearing it resulted in the cloth itself being pushed into the wearer’s body. But the cloth retained the bullet and prevented fragmentation and often simply pulling on the cloth material removed the bullet from the wearer’s body without recourse to surgery. Additionally, the cloth made a pretty effective bung in the bullet hole, preventing excess bleeding. Of course, it hurt like hell to be shot, but the survivability was far higher than not wearing it.
The armor also helped protect from stunners and bladed weapons to a certain degree. However, it was singularly useless against anything like a laser or plasma weapon, melting almost immediately. Likewise, any heavy caliber or high velocity slugs would overwhelm the weave totally, punching through as if it wasn’t there. It was strictly in the light armor class.
There was also some training in using the comms gear and a few other bits and pieces that Klane had scavenged. If they’d had the time, and resources, they would have resorted to implanted comms units. But that was a luxury they didn’t have access to. Instead they had tiny earpieces and an equally small voice transmitter that fitted inside the mouth of the user in the space between the gum of the lower jaw and the cheek. Inbuilt software made the distinction between actual words and noises such as swallowing or sucking. So their ears weren’t treated to the sounds of six people’s mouths doing their usual routines. The units were military spec, however, so once they had them set up properly, encryption ensured no one else could listen in on their conversations.
The final thing they learned was using the spacesuits the Marines had recommended to them. The suits were mo
dern, containing all the latest software and technology at the Empire’s disposal. Jones in particular was happy when he found out the software could emulate many of the purely electronic tools at his disposal for defeating security measures. It meant he would be able to work on things like airlocks from outside, if it was necessary. The suits were designated as non-combat gear by the Marines but were far more robust than most civilian equivalents.
The training went on throughout the trip to Sol, even once Klane and Hamilton were reasonably satisfied with their progress. Practice, they both knew, led to automatic responses. Reacting without having to make a conscious decision might make the difference between life and death.
*****
Ulysses, predictably, had arrived at Sol well before Morebaeus emerged from hyperspace. As the pair of vessels drew alongside and docked once again, the customs vessel transmitted the data it had gathered over the previous two days whilst it had waited for the freighter to show up.
Sol was quiet. There was no unusual activity in the system at all. The heart of the Empire was going about its business like clockwork. Ulysses had quickly been able to tap into news feeds from Earth and Mars and ascertain that everything was normal.
The main news story, of course, was the horrifying activities of the Righteous Flame terror group. The story, at least as far as the news outlets were reporting it, was that the organization had escaped from a secure holding facility on Tantalus Station. There had, apparently, been a number of fatalities amongst civilians and the terrorists had tried to destroy the station with a bomb. Eventually the terrorists had escaped aboard a number of vessels they hijacked. It was presumed the crews of these ships had been executed. There was talk of military ships being destroyed or damaged.
A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) Page 20