The Infinity Brigade #1 Stone Cold

by Andrew Beery

  “Whereas we already know to do that. We just get the current numbers from the Puller in orbit and plug the numbers in. Our shots should hit every time,” JJ said. “Bloody hell mate we could bugger them before they knew what was happening.”

  My grin widened. Now they were getting into the spirit of things.

  “It still would call for a great deal of luck on our part to get both of them before they got us,” Gretchen said.

  I agreed with her but the genius that was Anthony Grant Stone had yet to be fully revealed. “Suppose,” I said in a conspiratorial voice, “that we could get one of them to take out the other for us?”

  Tommy chuckled. “That would be great. But unless you know something I don’t… that isn’t likely to happen.”

  I just stared at him with an every widening grin.

  “You DO know something I don’t,” Sergeant Cochran finally admitted.

  Gretchen leaned forward and batted her eyelashes at me seductively. “Do tell,” she added in a husky voice.

  “The other day, our mutual friend Mister Jeromy James Hammond taught me all about RATs.”

  She leaned back confused. “Rat? Can I assume we are not talking about the small furry rodent variety?”

  “Naa,” I answered in a fake British accent, “these are of the Remote Access Trojan variety.”

  ***

  At exactly 1600 hours the second round of ‘Top of the Rock’ began. One minute prior to that the team handling the crew-served railgun at the North Spot received an emergency text message from Sergeant Paglio of Echo Platoon to retarget their railgun to a new set of coordinates. The message warned that Alpha was able to decrypt their radio traffic so stay off the comms. The Corporal manning the railgun checked the new coordinates. They made no sense. They would lob the first KEW about fifty kilometers southeast of their allies in the south. He could only assume the Alpha/Beta platoons had tried to sneak some infiltrators in under the wire. Well Alpha/Beta would be taking it in the shorts this time!

  The railgun fired its first round. Six minutes later the simulated KEW landed exactly where it was intended to land. Unfortunately for the Corporal who had not confirmed his orders, that location was quite a bit closer to his allies than he would have been comfortable with. The southern railgun was effectively offline as it and its crew were within the fifteen kilometer kill zone of the KEW that had just landed. He didn’t have long to contemplate his mistake because the moment observers confirmed he had fired his weapon, a second KEW was on its way. This one was launched from Beta camp. Since Beta was so much closer… the KEW took only three minutes to reach its target. In short order he joined the ranks of those killed in action.

  ***

  I love it when a plan comes together! After we used the RAT I planted during our ‘King of the Hill’ exercise to induce a bout of friendly fire on the part of our esteemed adversaries, we quickly removed the railgun advantage our foes had. Now it was a straight forward ‘Top of the Rock’ fist fight. In this fight we had all the advantages. We had better weapons and better position. In addition, we had a thoroughly demoralized enemy.

  It took a full forty eight hours of intense fighting but we held our position. I give the enemy credit where credit is due. They never gave up. They tried every trick in the book to sneak troops into our AO. Several of them were things I hadn’t even though of. It was only by the dumbest luck that we realized they were spoofing several Drill Sergeant’s transponder codes during one attempt.

  I had been in communication with Senior Drill Montgomery who had taken one of our guys to the Puller in orbit to deal with a suddenly burst appendix when I happened to spot his Indent Code moving into sensor range on our active scanner display. For all intents and proposes, he and several other Drill Sergeants appeared to be approaching our AO. I sent JJ and a team out to deal with the bogus Drill Sergeants.

  In the end, we were again declared victorious. This presented me with a problem.

  Alpha and Beta platoons were only half of the Marine recruits in this exercise. To my knowledge no other group of recruits had ever won every major engagement. I was unsure what effect our actions were going to have on the other platoons. I had briefly played with the idea of throwing the battle at the end to allow the other platoons to win but I rejected the idea before it ever left my lips.

  First it was disrespectful to the Marines that gave their all to secure a victory. Second, it did no favors for our opponents. The enemy would never throw a battle just so everybody could go home feeling good about themselves. Marines were Marines because they gave every last ounce of effort to win. It would be enough or it would not be enough… but it would always be everything they had. Period, end of story.

  ***

  The AAR process is normally a lot more fun when you are on the winning side. I say this having only rarely experienced the losing side. Surprisingly, this was not the case this time. The Drill Sergeants were beside themselves trying to decide if I should be drummed out of the service for cheating or awarded a medal for ingenuity. Given the choice, I had a firm preference, but I wisely opted to stay out of the debate.

  At the end of the day the thing that answered the question was the simple thought that Senior Drill Sergeant Harris gave voice to… if you were in battle and you had somebody who had a proven ability to get the job done… no questions asked… would you want them on your side or the other guys?

  I’m still not sure if Senior Drill Harris was saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ or something else. As I was allowed to stay I decided to take the outcome in a positive light.

  We were informed that our stay on Mars was at an end. We would be heading back up to the Puller tomorrow morning. I assumed this meant we would be heading back to New Parris Island on the Lunar Dark Side. Assuming anything in Boot Camp is a bad idea. This simple thought would be reinforced in the next several days.

  As the AAR wound up Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery asked me to stay behind. I stood at parade rest as the other recruits filed out of the room. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to discuss but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it. It turns out it was one of those times when my paranoia was misdirected… or so I thought at the time. In the 20/20 vision of hindsight, I really was right to be afraid… it just would take me a few more months to fully appreciate why.

  When the others were gone Master Sergeant Montgomery waved a casual hand. “Take a load off son. God knows you deserve it. Just for the record, that little show we put on back there was purely theatrics. To a man, the Drill Cadre is impressed with you. That is part of why I want to talk with you.”

  To say the Drill had my undivided attention was an understatement. I could not shake the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.

  “Let me start off with the good news,” Montgomery continued. “The Martian authorities are very thankful for the work you did uncovering those debris fields in the Candor Chasma. The LandSpeeder you discovered did indeed belong to your uncle who is among the deceased. By virtue of your blood relationship and that there are no other claimants, it is the ruling of the administrative council that the vehicle and the contents of the six other storage containers that belonged to your uncle are now your property. They supplied a manifest which I have forwarded to your inbox. You will need to decide what to do with these items as soon as possible.”

  I raised my hand to respectfully interrupt the Drill Sergeant. He raised an eyebrow but signaled me to speak.

  “Everything in those containers have survived for years without me and I without them. I would just as soon not know what was in them. I’d rather they just went to the holocaust museum. The single exception is my uncle’s LandSpeeder. That I would like to keep. Is it possible to store it at a Marine facility until I can find a permanent home for it?”

  Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery smiled. “Harris had you nailed. He predicted this is what you would want to do. I have some documents here that you can sign that will transfer your interest to th
e foundation in control of the museum. Further, the captain of the Puller has stated that he has some free space in his forward hold for the LandSpeeder which he is willing to make available for your use on one condition.”

  I had a feeling I knew what that condition would be but I waited for the Sergeant to confirm it.

  “He would like to be able to take it out for a spin on Earth sometime.”

  I put my thumb print on the tablet the Drill Sergeant passed to me. This turned the six storage containers over to the foundation. “Done and done,” I said as I handed the document back to the Drill Sergeant.

  “Now,” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery said, “I told you there were several matters to discuss. The second involves your grades and performance reviews.”

  Now understand where my head was at here. There were lots of things I suspected the Drills would want to talk to me about… there were a lot of things they could talk to me about. In many ways I was an accomplished screw-up. All that said, my grades were not one of the things I expected them to talk to me about. I knew for a fact that my grades were top-notch. They always were.

  Part of my problem growing up was that I was always a gifted student. I got superior marks without really having to work for them. This meant I had a lot of free time. A smart kid with a lot of free time is typically a recipe for trouble. When it came to baking up a batch of trouble, I was a natural… so good in fact, I wasn’t even always aware to the trouble I was getting myself into.

  “As I said,” Sergeant Montgomery continued completely unaware of the confused mess of possible scenarios my mind was racing through, “to a man, the Drill Cadre is impressed with you. Upon occasion we run into a candidate, such as yourself, that shows potential to do great things in the Corps. We like to give such candidates a chance to explore their potential more fully by interacting with more experienced troops.”

  “In order to make that possible, it’s essential to give these exceptional candidates credentials that the more experienced troops will recognize. For that reason we offer these candidates true brevet promotions so they can function in a population of regular Marines. It is purely voluntary and I will warn you son… it is not for the faint of heart.”

  I will freely admit… this is not where I thought Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery would be going with this conversation. There was a certain shock and awe factor that befuddled the senses. It took me a moment to realize the Senior Drill was waiting for me to say something. Had there been a question that somehow I missed hearing? I searched my memory but I couldn’t recall one being asked. I finally made one of those intuitive leaps that inspire the young and from which they make major motion pictures…

  “Drill Sergeant, if you are asking me if I volunteer to take advantage of such an opportunity then my answer is an emphatic… Hell Yes Drill Sergeant!”

  Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery grinned. It wasn’t an evil grin but it was predatory none-the-less. It might have been the type of look the spider give the fly when it invites the fly into its web.

  “We’ll see if you feel the same way when all is said and done,” he answered cryptically.

  Chapter 18: Ensign Stone…

  It was with some reluctance that I handed back my Ensign armband. I had been proud to wear it but regardless of what happened from this point forward, I would never be wearing an armband like that again.

  The Senior Drill explained that most brevet promotions of the type I was about to receive actually occurred during the Advanced Individual Training or AIT phase of our education. It was rare to begin with but even rarer to occur at the end of Boot camp. In my particular case the brevet promotion order had been signed in advance by Commodore Catherine Kimbridge. She had given the order to Senior Drill Sergeant Harris to use if he and the other Drill Sergeants saw in me what she apparently saw in me. No pressure.

  As I entered the B-TOC for Alpha Platoon, I was dressed differently. Sewn to my collar was a single yellow butter bar. I was no longer a recruit. I was no longer an acting Ensign. I had had been officially sworn in over the radio by Captain Mueller of the GCP Puller who was acting under the orders of Commodore Kimbridge. For the duration of my training I was an Ensign. Depending on how I did in my training, I would or would not be able to retain that rank.

  I had asked JJ and Gretchen to join me in the Alpha B-TOC. They were already there with Tommy Cochran when I walked through the airlock.

  “Well,” I said, “good news and bad news.”

  “I’ll bite,” Tommy said. “What’s the good news?”

  “I get to keep the LandSpeeder!”

  “OUTSTANDING!” All three of them echoed at once.

  Suddenly JJ saw my collar. “Sweet mother of pearl! Is that what I think it is?”

  I did my best to look confused. I’m not sure I managed to pull it off… but hey… I never claimed to be a thespian. At any rate I said, “Oh this little thing? It’s just something I threw on at the last moment. Do you like it?”

  “Can I touch it?” Gretchen asked in amazement.

  For the next several minutes the three of them took turns grilling me about what had happened. Finally JJ said, “You know what this means now don’t you?”

  I was almost afraid to ask but curiosity got the best of me and I did a foolish thing. I encouraged JJ to enlighten me. I should have known better but as I have said on numerous occasions… I was young and given to fits of defective thinking.

  “You can give orders to the Drill Sergeants now!”

  I shook my head. “JJ, the fact that you CAN do a thing… does not imply that you SHOULD do that thing. My rank is a brevet rank. What the Lord giveth the Lord can taketh away.”

  ***

  I stood looking out the door of the shuttle that had carried me to the GCP Puller. This was a Bowman-class ship so I knew it was not one of the biggest in the fleet… still, to me, it seemed massive. I have been in the main cargo hold the last time I was on her. I had not had the chance to see her from the outside. This time everything was different. I sat behind one of the two shuttle pilots as our shuttle landed in the forward shuttle bay. The view took my breath way. The absolute black of space contrasted with the brilliant white of the Puller’s hull metal skin.

  A Marine lieutenant approached the open hatch of the shuttle. I saluted. “Sir, permission to come onboard.”

  “Permission granted,” the lieutenant responded. He was tall and lanky with a tuff of barely managed red hair on his head. “I’m Lieutenant JG Havastraw. My friends call me ‘Red’.”

  He held out a meaty hand. Not knowing what else to do… I shook it.

  “Ensign Stone reporting for duty,” I said as I stepped off the ramp of the shuttle.

  Lieutenant Havastraw laughed. “Whoa, slow down there young Padawan. I’m your mentor these first few days. You need to report first to the Captain and then very likely to the Marine Commander.”

  “I stand corrected Sir”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “Let’s get one thing straight right away. This isn’t AIT or Boot Camp… This is the real world. You are a Marine now. We recognize and respect rank but nine times out of ten we are working as a tightly knit group. Most of us call each other by our nicknames unless we are in the presence of non-marines. My name is Red. What shall I call you young Padawan?”

  I was unsure what a ‘Padawan’ was but I was going to be looking it up as soon as I could. “My friends call me AG… will that work?” I asked.

  “It does for me… if it does for you,” Red grinned as he clapped a hand on my back. “Drop your duffle. I’ll have an enlisted grade carry it to our quarters. The Puller is too small for private digs so you’ll be bunking with me. It ain’t much but its home. Meanwhile, you and I need to pay our respects to Captain Mueller.”

  The walk through the GCP Puller was mesmerizing. It was bustling with activity. Every motion and movement of the crew seemed almost choreographed. It was an impressive testimony to the efficiency of their training. Even Red twis
ted and turned on cue to avoid collisions with the various members of the crew as they hurried about their business. They seemed to instinctively realize I was the newbie and steered clear of me.

  In short order we were outside a door on what I would come to learn was the command deck. Red stood at attention in front of the door. I missed my cue and was still gawking when Red whispered ‘Attention Marine’.

  I snapped to attention immediately.

  “Lieutenant Havastraw and Ensign Stone to see the Captain at his pleasure,” Red spoke into the empty space between himself and the door. Apparently there was a microphone buried somewhere in the wall or ceiling. After a few minutes, the door swished open and we heard a single word. “Enter.”

  Captain Mueller was a small man but there was an aura of authority about him that defied explanation. I had a feeling people followed his orders because not to do so would place a person at odds with the universe.

  He looked at Red briefly but spent most of his time staring at me. It was one of those… let’s see if we can plumb-the-depths-of-your-soul looks. Despite the intensity of the glaze I found myself liking this man.

  His office was simple without being Spartan. He had a picture of a young woman and a child. I got the feeling they were a daughter and grandchild rather than his wife and kids. I learned later that the two were the only surviving members of his extended family. We shared a common history with regard to Mars.

  “So you are our young prodigy,” the captain said simply.

  I’m not sure what a person is supposed to say to that so I did a rare thing for me… I exercised discretion and kept my mouth shut. The Captain nodded to himself.

  “Mister Stone, you are in a word… an odd duck.”

  I know this was more than one word but again I was practicing that discretion thing so I didn’t say a thing.

  “Your test scores and aptitude ratings are off the chart… and yet your personal history seems to tell the story of a man hell-bent on finding trouble. Absent the last several months I don’t know why anybody in the armed services would give you the time of day… and yet here we are.”