Alien Enigma

by Bain, Darrell; Teora, Tony

  "They're Marines, and I heard they shipped some smart and crazy ones, if that's possible. Hell, even the captain's gone mad with weapons systems. I wouldn't want to be near anyone that pissed off Captain Keane while he's at the controls of Doc Travis." Jergens shivered theatrically.

  "Let's hope the bad guys see it our way," Brian retorted. He finished the sandwich and his coffee then excused himself. "I've just got to grab a few hours sleep before launch. See you then, if I can finagle an excuse for not being at dinner with the Skipper."

  ***

  Captain Trent Keane was almost trembling with pleasure and excitement as Doc Travis prepared for launch. He had not yet taken the captain's seat. He was too full of nervous expectancy at finally being ready to begin their mission. He had finished briefing his officers after the ship was sealed off from extraneous communication. In the interests of security, the only contact with ground control now was through the launch director, and then only if necessary.

  "All control room sections report," he said. Too loud? No, just about right, because heads hadn't snapped around.

  "Gravitics ready. Internal gravity on line, set for one G," Lieutenant Evonne White, the tall blond gravitics specialist and monitoring officer said. "Synchronized with external gravity, ready for launch."

  "Internal environment optimum. No atmospheric leaks. Internal air at Earth normal. Hatches sealed," Lieutenant Commander Han Nguyen reported for his department.

  "Weapons safed," Commander June Mundahan, the dark buxom weapons officer said from her alcove.

  "Engineering ready. Quantum drive on line. Drive intersected with gravitic capacitor. All hatches show green for sealed," Lt. Commander William Levy announced.

  "Astrogation parameters set and double checked by Chief Astrogator Mannheim. Helmsman ready," Lieutenant Anita Chavez, the assistant astrogator and helmsman said. The chief astrogator was monitoring from a secondary site in the ship.

  "Weapons secure. Personnel secure and all accounted for. Environment secure. Engineering on line. All systems nominal. Ready for launch," Commander Dunaway completed the census as executive officer, his voice so calm that anyone listening from outside might have thought they were launching a rowboat instead of an interstellar starship. With Dunaway's deep blue eyes and grey-white eyebrows and hair, he easily looked the part of an extremely able XO.

  Keane took a deep breath. "Astrogator, start the clock. Integrate with computer launch parameters."

  Lieutenant Chavez toggled off the safety switch, flipped the lid hiding the controls out of the way and pressed the icon to begin the long voyage. "Launch programming initiated," she said. She had a pleasing Hispanic melody to her voice.

  From one of the alcoves in back of the arc of control consoles, Chief Petty Officer Boris O'Neal glared at the Lieutenant. Captain Keane caught it and chuckled silently to himself. It was O'Neal's first interstellar slot. On wet navy boats the helmsman would have been an enlisted Chief Petty Officer. He could see how much O'Neal resented being relegated to the assistant's berth by the expression on his face.

  The launch computer began counting down, giving everyone time to sit if they weren't already and to engage their safety harnesses.

  It seemed hardly any time until Keane was hearing the last seconds being read off. " ...eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, launch."

  Having been out before, Keane knew there would be very little sense of movement. It amused him to watch the reaction of the two neophytes. Whatever they were expecting, he saw surprise and puzzlement. He knew they were wondering if something had gone wrong and Doc Travis failed to launch.

  "All launch parameters nominal," Chavez announced.

  From his seat, Keane watched the view recorded by outside cameras. Earth rapidly became discernible as a globe by the curve of the horizon. The ship rose just fast enough not to heat up its hull, providing a spectacular scene for the crew. He knew that all hands not occupied with other duties tried to be in a position to see the Earth before its appearance grew too small to be significant. It would be their last sight of the home world for a long time, perhaps forever.

  Chapter Seven: Bug Eyed Monsters

  Dr. McCoy: "Please, Spock, do me a favor and don't say it's 'fascinating'."

  Spock: "No, but it is... interesting."

  "Attention on deck!" Sergeant Watkins said loudly, bringing all 613 marines to their feet, including the officers.

  "At ease," Major Steel Rambling said as he entered, trailed closely by Captain Cindy Cantrell. The movie theatre, which also served as seating for observers of sports events, was the only place in the ship large enough to accommodate all the marines at once. Most of them were already seated or standing behind the last row of chairs. He could have given his talk through their personal comps. Most civilians carried their comps as a necklace or wristband but marines imbedded theirs into the tissue of their forearms, keeping it out of the way but ready during combat. Regardless of how he could have handled it, he wanted to see the whole rump battalion in person and let them get a reading of him while he did the same in reverse. The hurried advance of the launch had prevented him from gathering them dirtside because most of them had been extremely busy with combat loading and other last minute duties. He waited until all were seated and the scuffling and murmurs had died away.

  "Good afternoon, Marines. Thank you for attending." He paused for the inevitable laugh. No marine would be stupid enough to refuse an order to be there from their commanding officer. The pause also was purposeful so they could get a good look at him. He was tall and muscular, with a face that wasn't handsome but which drew attention for its composed countenance and lack of smile lines. When he did occasionally let himself go, as now, it changed his appearance into that of a tall genial man, but one that still maintained a lethal command visage just below the surface. "Now that we're all here together and the ship is under way, I'm going to pass on a bit of intelligence to you. I know you've been waiting and wondering where we're going, haven't you?"

  "Oorah!" they bellowed.

  "Right. I have too, for that matter." That drew another laugh that he paused to let die before becoming serious. " Doc Travis is not only the finest ship in the United States Navy, it is by far the biggest and the best armed. Furthermore, it has the best crew ever assembled for an interstellar voyage. They are all volunteers, just like you. The only two persons in this ship who were ordered to go with it are Captain Keane and myself, but that's only because we got our orders before we had a chance to volunteer.

  "All of you were told you would be going on a dangerous mission when you volunteered. Since I now know what it involves I'll let you in on it, too. We're headed to the Bolt Cluster, an area of close to a thousand stars relatively close together but rather farther from Earth than surveys have gotten yet. It is the cluster where four interstellar space ships have disappeared without a trace. It will be our job to find out why and take steps to prevent it from happening again.

  "You have probably guessed that since there are far more marines on board than normally are sent with a star ship, you can anticipate ground action. It is possible that you may, but the fact is, we have no idea what has caused those ships to vanish. It might be the particular planet they landed on but it also could be a previously unknown astronomical phenomena operating close to the planet of our destination. It might be hostile BEMS. For the uninitiated, the acronym refers to Bug Eyed Monsters. Aliens, if you will. We simply don't know. All I can tell you is to keep your battle rattle in top condition and listen to your sergeants and officers because we shall be investigating an alien city on the planet near where the other ships vanished. Here is a recording of what little we know about it."

  The lights dimmed and the marines were subjected to the same view Keane and his officers had already seen.

  "Now you know about as much as anyone else aboard. The captain has told me that the voyage to the Bolt Cluster normally takes about six months, but I suspect the actual length will be determine
d by Captain Keane's observations as we close in on the cluster or arrive there and begin snooping around. Whatever Captain Keane decides to do or how he decides to approach the problem of a presumably dangerous alien city, I know I can count on you men and women for one simple reason: you are Marines, the finest fighting force in existence!"

  "Oorah!" The massed chorus was almost loud enough to break ear drums.

  "Right. Bullshit is for politicians and civilians. We take over after their bullshit has made us necessary to correct their errors. Attend me now. Whatever happens, we shall maintain discipline and conduct ourselves as a fighting force second to none. This is perhaps the most important mission since Wannstead Industries provided the ships to open up the galaxy for exploration. I expect you to conduct yourselves as Marines at all times, under the best and the worst of circumstances. Executive officer Cantrell and First Sergeant Watkins will now entertain questions and shall answer them to the best of their ability."

  ***

  "How did your troops take the news, Steel?" Keane asked Major Rambling. They were having coffee in the Captain's Day Cabin and as he had been promised, there was plenty of room, much more than he had expected or thought he would ever be able to use effectively. When he was alone there it seemed even larger.

  "They're marines, sir. They expect missions to be hairy-assed bitches. Whatever we run into, if it's a marine problem, they'll handle it if it's possible to do so. If not, they'll do it anyway or die trying."

  Keane arched his eyebrows.

  "Sir, that might sound like conceited arrogance, but it's not." He leaned forward in his chair. "Completing their mission is what I expect of them and that's what they expect of themselves. That attitude is even more imbued in this group because most of them have at least some combat time. The Commandant also purposely loaded us up with the best young officers and NCOs available who were in the system, or were scheduled to be before launch. When I say best, that includes not only the best warriors but the most intelligent ones and best educated ones we could find."

  "I'm glad to hear the Marine Commandant took this mission as seriously as I and my superiors did, Steel. A successful outcome could, and probably will, effect a paradigm shift in our attitudes toward deep space, especially if we get our hands on some alien technology. Or aliens themselves. Damn it, that city appears to be just sitting there, surrounded by jungle and yet not invaded by it. Something or someone is keeping it clean and functional, or at least we hope it's still that way." Keane sipped at his coffee. It was his duty to infuse the crew, marines and navy both, with the importance of the mission. In the case of the marines he could see there wasn't much for him to do. The attitude was already inherent in the troops. However ...

  "Since you seem to have the morale and attitude of your marines well in hand, I've got a bit of extra intelligence for you, Steel."

  "What's that, sir?"

  "Just before we left, the nature of our mission leaked. I don't know whether the leak will cause another nation, or possibly more than one, to try outmaneuvering us and attempting to solve the enigma first or not. Just in case, though, you should bear in mind the type of troop contingent the Chinese and Brazilian navies carry on their ships. You needn't worry about whether the Doc Travis can take care of itself. It can, I assure you. If it comes to combat on the ground though, you need to know what you'll be up against. I'm sure you're already aware of how each nation arms their infantry but you're welcome to access the navy's intelligence sources concerning their armed accessories. The better prepared we are, the less chance for Murphy to rear his ugly little fucking head."

  Rambling chuckled. Keane noted how the disappearing vertical frown lines between his brows when he smiled momentarily changed his appearance.

  "I can always do without Murphy. The miserable little bastard wouldn't stay on Earth, would he?"

  "Afraid not. He's alive and well in space. That's really all I wanted to see you about. I've told Chief Mura to give you the codes when you want to avail yourself of what intelligence we have."

  "Thank you, sir. I'll get started on that very soon."

  Keane waved a hand negligently at the thanks. "There's one more thing. This is the first of our ships to carry shuttles specifically designed for marine assault teams or platoons. I'm sorry your men didn't get a chance to train with them but I've got a truly wizard electronics officer, Lt. Senior Grade Fred Jergens. One of the many duties I've assigned him is to work up some simulations for use of the shuttles. Think that might help?"

  "Marines prefer hands on training but it certainly can't hurt, sir! Thank you again. Are they ready?"

  "He hasn't said so, but he hasn't reported to me that they're finished so probably not. I feel like I'm remiss in not having put you two together before now, but as you know we've all been rushed. Why don't you look him up when you leave here and you two talk business?" He glanced up at the chronometer. "You can probably catch him in the process of getting ready for bed right about now."

  "Murphy is indeed alive and well, Captain. I'll com him as soon as I leave here."

  "I'm sure he'll appreciate it," Keane said, eyes twinkling. "Before you go, I should tell you there's a bit of debate on whether or not anyone else has worked up anything like our assault shuttles. If I were betting I'd say they have at least a couple of helicopters or maglev craft for each ship. Final analysis? Our troops are better armed and trained and we have the advantage with the assault shuttles, especially the way they can be stealthed. Those are dandy little vehicles." He laughed. "Did I say little? Those four could carry all of your battalion and basic combat load in a pinch. Normal load is seventy five to a hundred troops with weapons.

  " Doc Travis can back you up with heavy lasers, plasma pulse cannon, and heavy rail guns. If worst comes to worst, we carry a variety of nukes but that's classified. No one but your XO is to know." Keane thought of pouring more coffee but he had other things to do and didn't want to refill his cup without offering the marine more. "I wish I could say we can handle anything we come up against but ...well, the last Wannstead ship had been upgraded, too. Not nearly to the extent of Doc Travis but much better than survey ships. It didn't come back, either."

  Major Rambling gave a very tiny shrug. "I suppose we'll just have to be careful and play it by ear, sir."

  "That's what I intend to do."

  ***

  "Close to six months just to get there? Man, this is gonna be a long fucking trip, ain't it?" Dan Bullet said to Barbara Zembra.

  She glanced at him as they threaded their way through the bodies of other marines, some going their way while others pushed against the tide in the other direction as the navy watch shifts changed. "Yeah, let's get out of this crowd so we can hear."

  "Where to, Scooby doo?"

  "Whose room's closest? I still haven't figured this ship out. Need a GPS."

  "Your place, I think," Bullet said.

  "Good, come on then, follow me."

  A few minutes later they passed the last open hatch and into enlisted quarters. With such long tours aboard ship even the lowest ranking persons had what was called a 'stateroom', although in reality the ones furnished to lower grade enlisted personnel might have served better as broom closets. Barbara's room was even smaller than his. There was a bed latched up against one bulkhead, next to a tiny head, sink, commode and shower that were jammed into a space so small it made movement a matter of careful attention in order to prevent bumps and bruises. There was also a little work or entertainment alcove supplied with two chairs. One of them was latched out of the way. Barbara pulled it down.

  "Have a seat, Bullet," she said. No one ever called him by his first name. "Welcome to my luxurious stateroom. Be careful not to get lost."

  "Not much chance of that, even with your eyes closed." They had just come from a lecture given by Captain Keane on mission parameters, threat analysis and a potential time-table for the mission, among other subject matter. Like Rambling previously, he could have done it via com but h
e wanted every person in the ship to get a personal look at him a time or two. The lecture served as an excuse for them to do so although he had to schedule a series of them in order to get to everyone.

  "Hey, what do you think of the old man?" Bullet asked.

  She shrugged. "Seems to be pretty straight, but I didn't bring you here to talk about the CO." She eyed his compact body and youthful good looks. His black hair went well with his even-featured face. She gave a lop-sided grin at his look of surprise, although she thought he should have been expecting something like this by now.

  "No? Then what did you bring me here for?"

  Barbara smiled and pulled out a stick of lip-sweet from a pocket of her fatigue shirt and touched it lightly to her lips, giving them a pink tint. "I thought we might test the waters, so to speak, and see if we maybe want to hook up for the cruise?" She raised her brows.

  "I've been wanting to ask you the same thing. Sometimes I'm a bit slow." He grinned wryly then took a step toward her. In the tiny stateroom it brought their bodies close enough to be touching. He leaned down and sampled the lip-sweet with her complete cooperation.

  "Whew! I like you, too, Bullet. And I promise to be gentle." She said and began pulling off her fatigue blouse.

  Other clothes fell between hungry kisses. By the time they were finished undressing he had forgotten all about her plain face. He didn't see her grin at his appreciation of her really fine-looking body. She had seen that reaction before. The rest of her more than made up for what she'd been shorted on in the looks department.

  Chapter Eight: Steel

  If the possibility exists of several things going wrong, the one that will go wrong is the one that will do the most damage. -Murphy's Law Number 2

  "Too bad we couldn't have gotten some training runs in with these little beauties," Platoon Sergeant Jerry Matthews said as he took a seat near the bow of one of the assault shuttles. First Sergeant Watkins was taking the eight platoon sergeants and two from headquarters, plus the heavy weapons platoon, on a tour of the shuttles.