by P. A. Piatt
As if Ystremski had anticipated her question, the next scene showed someone holding vegetation away from the mech to reveal faded numbers painted on the side.
“Check that number against the database, Trenas.”
The recording stopped. “That’s it. After that, we returned to base.”
Nobody spoke for a moment. Fortis turned to Hawkins. “What do you think, Gunny?”
“It makes sense that it’s a mine shaft. This is a mining planet and we’re close to the mining colony. Maybe they collapsed the entrance to keep the bugs out. Or in, even.”
“What about the mechs?”
“Bravo Company got swarmed, and they went down fighting. No reason to think the mech element didn’t fight, too. A thousand test tubes died with them, so it must have been one hell of a swarm. How many bugs do you think swarmed us today? A couple thousand? That was nothing.”
“Given the history of this place, it’s no surprise we found equipment from that deployment. Hey, Trenas, what about Winaki? Any word from his patrol?”
“Nothing yet, sir.”
“Well, until we hear from them it’s business as usual. We need to take care of Thorsen and figure out what’s going on with the minefield, too.”
The meeting broke up and Hawkins motioned to Fortis to hang back. “Hey, Trenas, take a break, would you?”
When they were alone, Hawkins’ face darkened into a scowl.
“LT, what the hell did you think you were doing out there?”
Gunny Hawkins’ question shocked Fortis. “What, you mean with Thorsen?”
“Yeah, with Thorsen, and the other Marines. What were you doing?”
“The swarm was coming, so we fired on them. I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Gunny.”
“LT, did you really believe that you and a dozen Marines could turn back that swarm?”
“Well, no. I mean, they came out of the jungle… we engaged… the grenades… I thought…”
“You thought like a buck private, not an infantry officer, sir. You got scope-locked playing shoot-’em-up instead of doing what the Corps pays you to do.”
Fortis’ cheeks burned as blood rushed to his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to form a response to the gunnery sergeant’s biting criticism.
“As soon as you saw the grenades didn’t stop that swarm, you should have ordered them to fall back.”
“But Thorsen—”
“Thorsen nothing. He stood his ground like the rest of them because you stood yours. They all would have died if you hadn’t ordered them to fall back. Do you understand?”
Fortis nodded.
“You’re not some Fleet fighter jock whose most important job is to look good on the cockpit ladder. You’re an International Space Marine Corps officer, a combat leader, and you have the power of life and death over every one of those Marines out there.”
Abner swallowed hard and cleared his throat. “Gunny, you’re right. I lost control of the situation because I forgot where we are. I got Thorsen killed.”
Hawkins put a paternal hand on his shoulder.
“Sir, you’re a second lieutenant, and a cherry to boot. Nobody expects you to be perfect. Let the privates fight. You’ve got to think three or four moves ahead. And don’t beat yourself up about Thorsen. That bug killed Thorsen, not you. In fact, because of what you did, Thorsen had a fighting chance. It just didn’t go his way.”
“DINLI.”
Hawkins laughed. “Damn right DINLI.” He stood. “Let’s get out of here and let Trenas get back to work. I’ve got a mine field to unfuck, and you’ve got important officer things to do.”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirteen
Fortis climbed atop the command mech and watched through his binoculars as Gunny Hawkins directed the investigation into the minefield failure. Sappers crawled around the area and carefully probed for the mines they’d laid. Fortis heard one of them report that the safety pin on the pressure plate that activated the mine was still in place. When they finished, a twenty-meter stretch of improperly armed mines was identified and corrected.
The sappers lined up into ranks and Hawkins spent several minutes chewing them out while the rest of the Marines tried to look busy and watch at the same time. Gunny dismissed the formation and five minutes later the two corporals in charge of the sapper detail re-appeared with full rucksacks and weapons. Hawkins pointed, and the pair started to run around the inside of the perimeter with their rifles raised high overhead.
“Everything all right, Gunny?” Fortis called down as Hawkins strode past the command mech.
“Yes sir, everything is outstanding. The sappers who placed the mines neglected to arm them.” He gestured to the two Marines trotting around the clearing. “I gave them some remedial training to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Where are you going now?”
“I didn’t think to include any mine detection gear when Lieutenant Baker and I drew up the equipment list for this drop. Because of that, those Marines had to clear that field by hand, which is damned dangerous in a live minefield. I guess I need a little remedial training myself.”
Hawkins disappeared into the mech he bunked in and came back out wearing his rucksack and carrying his weapon. Without a word, he trotted out and intercepted the two sappers, who fell in behind him and continued their run. In ones and twos, off-duty Marines joined their comrades in formation behind the gunnery sergeant.
Fortis jumped down from his perch and ran to get his own rucksack.
The Pada-Pada gravity pressed down on the heavy ruck. He had brief second thoughts, but shook them off and caught the formation. Hawkins looked over in surprise when the young officer fell in ahead of him, and his face broke out in a big smile.
“Thorsen,” said Fortis.
“DINLI,” Hawkins replied. He turned around and jogged backwards. “DINLI!” he roared, and the Space Marines whooped and hollered in response.
The Marines on duty cheered from their fighting positions as the formation jogged past. After two laps, Fortis’ arms ached from holding his rifle overhead and his legs throbbed from keeping pace with the extra weight. Three laps later, the ache in his arms had become white-hot pain, and the throbbing in his legs had faded to total numbness.
“You doing okay, LT?” Hawkins’ voice crackled over the private channel.
“How many more laps, Gunny?” Fortis’ breath came in gasps and his voice was little more than a dehydrated croak.
“I wanted to stop at three, sir, but you kept running. I guess we can call this one the last lap.”
“Fuh—fuh—fine with me.”
Hawkins turned and shouted to the formation. “Last lap, ladies. Follow me!” He grabbed Fortis by the shoulder strap and dragged him into a full run.
Fortis ran as though his life depended on it. His vision narrowed to a tiny dot of light and his pulse thundered in his ears as he drove his legs to pump faster. His aches and pains faded to distant memories, and he focused his entire being on finishing the run. Hawkins pulled back on Fortis’ ruck and brought him to a stop.
“Easy, LT, we made it.”
Fortis’ vision slowly came back, and he saw they were back where they had started. He pulled his helmet off, traded laughs and smiles with a few of the closest Marines, then fell to his knees and vomited.
The Space Marines greeted his post-run sickness with good-natured laughter, and there was no shortage of helping hands as he struggled to his feet. Ten minutes later, Fortis was stretched out on the deck of the command mech with his feet elevated, sucking on a hydration pack.
“Hey, LT. Winaki just called; they’re at the perimeter. How do you want them to come in?”
“Tell them to maintain full auto-flage until they get into their mech. Notify the sentries they’re coming through; we don’t need a friendly fire incident. Can you call Gunny Hawkins and Warrant Pell over here, please? Ystremski, too.”
* * *
“Why would they shoot it down?” asked Pell. “Are they hiding something at Number Four?”
“Ma’am, we scouted the entire area and found nothing. Just the crater and the tower.”
“It’s a mine shaft,” said Ystremski. “We found Number Two about half a klick north of here.”
“No shit? Was it nuked?”
“No. The entrance is collapsed, but it’s got a tower, just like Number Four. And there are three abandoned mechs parked next to it.”
* * *
The communicator on Beck’s desk buzzed and Nesbitt’s face came up on the screen.
“Yes, Nesbitt.”
“The patrol to Shaft Number Four has returned. They brought the drone wreckage, as instructed.”
“Did they see any Marines?”
“The patrol didn’t report any. I don’t think the Marines will bother to send a patrol back out there.”
“I monitored the surveillance cameras and it looks like the Marines had a busy day at their camp.”
Both men laughed
“Do you think they’ll ever figure out the bugs?”
“Not likely. Not without a lot of help.”
* * *
Fortis finished his daily report to Captain Reese and leaned back. Again, it was a bare-bones account of the days’ events, and had he left out more information than he had included. He reported on the patrol he sent north to locate any bug holes, and he reported the loss of Thorsen to the swarm. After a short discussion with Hawkins and Pell, he reported the drone loss over Mine Shaft Four as a probable failure of flight controls. It wasn’t an outright lie, but he didn’t see any sense in trying to explain the situation to a waspish CO who was too far away to do anything about it.
He sighed and hit “send.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fourteen
Fortis had just fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep when Hawkins’ voice jerked him awake.
“LT, wake up. You’re gonna want to see this.”
Fortis struggled to his feet and yawned widely. His entire body ached from the impromptu ruck run, and he stumbled into the command mech on rubbery legs.
“What are we looking at?” he asked drowsily.
“Movement on the northern perimeter,” answered Trenas. “Remember what we saw on the eastern perimeter the other night? He’s back, but now he’s doing recon to the north.”
As before, the noise sensors remained dark, but the motion sensors lit one by one.
“Gunny, do you think it’s a bug?”
“I don’t know, LT. The line of travel is too straight for a bug.”
“Hey, look.” Trenas highlighted a section of the perimeter. Two motion sensors stayed lit, and a noise between them illuminated with the arrow pointing straight up. As they watched, the arrow suddenly spun and pointed straight down. “He just walked right over the noise monitor. He’s approaching the perimeter.”
“Have you notified the sentries?” Hawkins leaned forward. “Can you put the infrared illuminator on him?”
“The sentries know he’s out there, Gunny.” Trenas tapped on her keyboard and turned a joystick on the table next to her. The main screen display disappeared and was replaced by a ghostly green visual display of the terrain outside. A green beam of invisible infrared light stabbed the darkness. Trenas worked it back and forth until they saw a figure emerge from the underbrush and stop at the edge of their clearing.
“It’s a human.”
“Looks that way. What the hell is he doing?”
The person started walking forward, stopped, turned to the right, took five steps forward. He turned back to the compound, took three more steps, then turned left for seven steps before stopping again.
“What’s he doing?”
Fortis, Hawkins, and Trenas watched as the unidentified man continued his halting progress. Suddenly, it came to Fortis.
“He’s avoiding the mines,” he blurted. “He knows where the mines are and he’s avoiding them.”
“I’ll be damned. I think you’re right, LT.”
“If he gets through there alive the lads will welcome him to our camp,” reported Trenas. They watched as the furtive figure stepped clear of the mine belt and crouched down.
“What’s he doing now?”
“Listening,” said Hawkins. “He’s a sneaky bastard.”
Seemingly satisfied, the figure stood and continued to approach the encampment. Two Marines, dark figures on the infrared screen, rose and attempted to grab him. The intruder flipped his first attacker onto his back and turned to face the second one. They grappled and the first Marine re-engaged, followed by two more. The mass of bodies became an indistinguishable blob of greenish black until the struggle finally ended.
“Command, this is Vance. We got him.”
“Vance, this is Hawkins. Get leg and arm restraints on him and bring him up to the command mech.”
“Aye, aye, Gunny.”
By the time Vance and the others delivered the intruder to the command mech, Warrant Pell, Doc Kramer, and Corporal Ystremski had arrived. They all gaped at the unconscious prisoner. A large knot had formed on his right temple, just in front of his ear, and blood trickled from his nose.
Vance gave an embarrassed shrug. “Sorry about that. He was playing hard to get, and I had to butt stroke him.”
“I just saw four Space Marines get their asses handed to them by this scrawny sonofabitch,” growled Hawkins.
The prisoner was of average height with short, ragged hair and a bedraggled beard. He wore the remains of a shirt and pants of unrecognizable origin and his bare feet were covered in thick callouses and black with dirt. He had deep scratches all over his body. Under his shabby clothes, he was emaciated, and his joints stuck out prominently.
“Look at this.” Kramer lifted the prisoner’s arms over his head and pointed to a long tear in his shirt. An angry reddish-gray scar covered his right bicep, ran through his armpit, and down his ribcage.
“What do you think happened there?”
“I don’t know, but he’s lucky to have survived that one.”
“Hey, look.” Ystremski was pointing to the ragged edge of the scar where a faded tattoo was barely visible under layers of scar tissue and dirt. “Is that DINLI?”
DINLI, the scowling bulldog that served as the unofficial mascot of the ISMC, was a popular subject of tattoos for Space Marines.
Hawkins and Pell leaned in closer.
“Hard to say,” said Pell. “That might be a paw.”
“Huh.” Hawkins pursed his lips. “If it is, it’s the old style. They added spikes to DINLI’s collar a couple years ago.”
“What the hell is a Space Marine doing here in the jungle?”
Kramer started an intravenous drip and began giving the prisoner saline.
“This guy is suffering from severe dehydration and starvation. I put some topical antibiotics on the scratches, but I don’t want to give him anything internal until I know if he has any drug allergies. A strong reaction at this point might kill him. I’m giving him fluids, but food will have to wait until he wakes up.”
“When will that be?”
Kramer pointed to the knot. “He might never wake up, sir. He’s probably got a concussion, maybe a brain bleed or a skull fracture. His pupils are reacting normally, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”
* * *
They secured the prisoner in the troop section of the command mech and posted a guard to watch him. Fortis joined Warrant Pell, Gunny Hawkins, and the other NCOs in the mess. Hawkins pushed a mug into his hands as soon as he stepped through the te
nt flaps.
“DINLI?”
“Just coffee.” Hawkins grinned at the look of relief on Fortis’ face. “It’s probably a good idea if we stay on our toes tonight.”
Fortis nodded and took a sip from the steaming mug. Space Marines were notorious for their strong coffee and the bitter liquid caught in his throat.
“What do you all make of this… Jungle Man?” Fortis posed the question to the group using the nickname Corporal Ystremski had given their intruder. “Doc, why don’t you start us off.”
“After examining him, I believe Jungle Man is human and not a test tube. He’s been in the jungle for a long time, perhaps several years. He’s in poor physical condition, but none of his injuries are life-threatening, except maybe his head wound. With proper food, clean water, and some rest, I expect he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Fortis turned to Ystremski. “Corporal, what do you think?”
“If Jungle Man is human, he’s been strength enhanced to a high level. It took four of us to subdue him, and I know they’re strength enhanced. Other than that, I don’t have much to say.”
“That’s a good observation; I’d forgotten about the fight. How about you, Gunny?”
“My guess is that he’s a miner, LT. Maybe he got banished from the colony as punishment for a crime. Maybe he wandered off on his own because he’s nuts, or maybe he just wanted to be alone. He might be insane, and when he wakes up he’ll start jerking off into a handful of his own feces.”
“Oh my God, Gunny,” Warrant Pell chortled.
“Sorry, ma’am. What I meant to say—”
Fortis cut him off. “I think we get the picture. Any other brilliant insights from the psych ward?”
Everyone laughed, and Fortis motioned to Pell. “Your turn, Warrant. What are your thoughts?”
“Sir, these guys have it pretty well covered. He’s a miner. How and why he’s out here is anyone’s guess. Maybe the colony’s been looking for him.”