Recruit

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Without the motion suppressors working, Sgt Nbele had the breath knocked out of him as he fell, something digging heavily into his back. The suits were pretty comfortable to wear normally, but without power, they were only so much junk.

  On his back, he could only see the sky. He scanned what he could, waiting to see the Stork come into view with the rest of the platoon onboard. What he did see was the same guy who had looked at him before. The man leaned over to look into the visor. They stared at each other for a moment before the man crossed himself, bringing his fingers his lips as he finished the cross. Then he nodded and stepped back out of view.

  When the drilling started again, the noise filled his ears. It kept going, though, not skittering off his armor. They must have gotten him wedged, or maybe the drill itself wedged. They still would have to penetrate his armor, though. It might be over 50 years old, but it was pretty formidable.

  The sounds of the drilling changed pitch, getting lower. A sense of panic filled the squad leader. That meant the drill bit had gained purchase. The sound reverberated everywhere, but he tried to locate from where it emanated. With the vibrations that he could now feel, it seemed to be from about his waist, maybe where the chest carapace met the pelvic shield. The newest Legionaire suits were seamless, but the old Marine suits were not. Could the drill bit have gained some sort of purchase there?

  The vibration started getting stronger, and the sounds of the bit slowed down even more.

  “Break you mother!” he shouted at the unseen LTC bit.

  Looking down in the small gap between the skin of his suit and his chest, he had a momentary glimpse of a spinning metallic shaft before it plunged into his groin. He was overcome by an intense flash of agony before his world went dark.

  ********************

  Private Ryck Lysander wiped the sweat from his brow as he caught his breath. He’d just brought up the platoon’s entire load of the M887 anti-personal rounds for the M229. He was not a trained artillery Marine, and as the newest of newbies, just reporting in two days prior to embarkation, he hadn’t been assigned to a squad and was instead the platoon runner, which meant doing whatever the platoon sergeant wanted him to do. In this case, it was to hump arty shells.

  When Second Squad had somehow disappeared from the net, a sense of alarm, if not panic, had swept the platoon headquarters. The eye-in-the-sky had shown the Marines suddenly stopping cold before some miners had appeared in the pit and the drone was knocked offline. Lieutenant Prowse and SSgt England had a heated discussion for a few moments as they reported back up to the company and went over their options. The platoon commander ordered Sgt Dixon, the arty team leader to saturate the open pit with anti-personnel fire. There wasn’t any way to know how effective the support had been. The lieutenant had been burning up the comm lines with the company commander, demanding the Navy get eyes on the objective and the Stork pilot to get the transport back.

  “Get your gear, boot. We’re going in with the lieutenant,” Doc Silestre told him.

  The platoon corpsman calmly checked the charge on his M99. Ryck hurriedly checked his, too. He hadn’t fired his weapon, so it was still at 100%, enough to fire close to 1,000 rounds of the hypervelocity darts.

  “What are we going to be doing?” he asked.

  “Go get our guys, you dumbshit,” the doc told him.

  Ryck wanted to clarify that he meant what their orders would be and what he was supposed to do, but he bit his tongue. He tried to look alert as the lieutenant and platoon sergeant made last-minute plans. This wasn’t going to be some well-planned op but more of an immediate-action drill. The problem was that Ryck hadn’t been with the unit long enough to rehearse any of the drills back on the Dirtball, and aboard the Adelaide, there hadn’t been much room for any sort of physical training.

  Within moments, the platoon headquarters and Third Squad were forming up just as the Stork came floating over the LZ, its turbo fans rotating to the vertical so the big transport could land. SSgt England already had the Marines moving before the Stork touched down, jumping up on the ramp while it was still a half a meter in the air. Ryck followed the rest of the Marines up into the belly of the bird.

  “Boot, you stick with me like glue. I want you on my ass,” SSgt England’s voice came over his ear bud, the triple tones preceding the voice message indicating that they were on a direct person-to-person circuit.

  Ryck started to acknowledge when the double tone of an open-platoon circuit cut him off. The lieutenant started giving out his order as the Stork rose smoothly into the air. He spoke calmly, but Ryck could sense the underlying tension in his voice, even over the M919 small unit communication modules. They didn’t know what had frozen Second Squad or knocked out the drone, so the Stork would come in low and drop them below the lip of the mine before bolting off to pick up Third Squad. Two fire teams of Third, along with SSgt England and the squad leader, Sgt Piccalo-Tensing, designated Element A, would move up and over the western side of the pit and get to the Marines below them. The remaining fire team and the rest of the platoon headquarters, Element B, would provide cover from the eastern side of the pit, then move down once Element A had consolidated its position. This was a very basic plan, nothing like what Ryck had conducted in his almost 10 months at recruit training and then another three months at IUT at Camp Otrakovskiy. He knew there wasn’t much time for anything else, but still, he expected something a little more . . . well, he didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

  Ryck still didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but the platoon sergeant had told him to stay on his ass, so that was what Ryck was going to follow. He checked his M99 once more out of nervous habit before looking up at the other Marines. No one showed any signs of the butterflies that threatened to take over his own stomach. He wasn’t sure if he was scared or excited, and he really didn’t make an effort to figure out which it was. This was what he’d been trained to do. This was why he had left Prophesy.

  He tried to lean the M99 on his thigh, but it slid off his trousers, his “skins,” which were slightly stiffened with the inserted armor protection, or “bones,” and he almost dropped it, barely catching it with one gloved hand. Despite the imminent combat he faced, his mind snapped back to boot where dropping a weapon was a cardinal sin. He gave a sigh of relief that he hadn’t dropped it as he secured his weapon.

  And that was all the time he had. With less than two klicks to the mine, the Stork had them there quickly. It flew in with the gentle approach that still amazed Ryck. Something so big shouldn’t fly as smooth as a maglev.

  The big bird flared, then the back ramp was lowered and the Marines poured out. Ryck followed the staff sergeant, trying to orient himself. Within moments, the Stork took off, leaving the two elements alone to make their way up to the lip of the mine. Ryck tried to keep aware of his surroundings while still watching the ground in front of him in order to stay on his feet.

  As they reached the lip of the mine, SSgt England motioned them down. He edged a small fiber-eye over the lip to see what was visible while they waited for the lieutenant to start the supporting fire.

  “We’ve got three, I repeat three combatants at my 10 o’clock, 550 meters from our present position, standing next to our friendlies. The friendlies look to be down, over” the staff sergeant sent over the net to the lieutenant.

  Two beeps then indicated that he had switched to the element circuit, followed by “Listen up. Do not, I repeat, do not stop to assist any of the downed Marines. We need to get to the mine entrance and inside, so get through the kill zone quickly. The lieutenant and Doc will see to Second Squad. Got it? I want each of you to acknowledge. No stopping, over.”

  Each Marine responded that he understood. No stopping.

  Ryck checked his M99 once more. He hadn’t fired yet, so nothing would have changed, but still, he had to check. He couldn’t see where the other element was, so he hugged the dirt, listening to his heart pounding. If Second Squad, suited up in t
heir PICS had been taken out, what could they do with only their skins and bones?

  Lieutenant Prowse finally had Element B in position, and on order, the element opened fire. Element A immediately pushed over the lip and into the mine. Ryck had a glimpse of a miner off to his front left turning to flee, only to be cut down from the Marines’ fire. Ryck hadn’t even tried to fire himself. That was Element B’s job, and he was having enough trouble following SSgt England as they raced pell-mell down the slope. It wasn’t really pell-mell, though. Their jerky movements were reasoned. From an assaulted position’s perspective, the rush was intended to make it difficult to bring the Marines under fire with any degree of effectiveness, and the Marines practiced this kind of movement until it was second nature to them. Ryck hadn’t had much experience yet, though, so he just focused on keeping up with the staff sergeant.

  Trying to watch his element leader, look for the enemy, and observe his step, proved too much for him. He stumbled and fell, rolling over several times before he could get back to his feet. His bones protected him from too much damage to anything other than his pride. He focused a little more on his footing, relying on Element B in back of him to take out any threat.

  Ryck felt extremely exposed as they rushed to the bottom of the pit and the openings into the mine itself. He felt that he would be hit at any moment. The sight of a downed Marine, his PICS torn open, did not help. They rushed forward to their objective. There were two other doors, both larger to accommodate trucks, but the lieutenant had chosen the smaller of the three entrances, one only about two meters wide.

  Just before reaching bottom, a blast erupted in front of Ryck. Smoke billowed up, and a body was thrown in the air. It came back down to land in a heap. Without hesitation, two other Marines closed in on the body, grabbed it, and pulled it forward.

  Within moments, all the Marines reached the mined rock wall at the bottom into which the openings were cut. The Marines spread out on either side of their target door. Ryck slammed his back up against the rock, looking over to his right where the injured Marine was on his ass, leaning up against the rock wall as well. It was Cpl Singh. The bones provided excellent ballistic protection, but they did little to provide structural support. Singh’s left leg was gruesomely twisted, the front of the foot facing back, the knee twisted at a 90 degree angle to the side. The mine blast had also damaged his skin’s nanos. The small sensors and syntho-chromatophores in the fabric of his utilities, his skins, had obviously been knocked out of whack. His blouse had already shifted the color and pattern to match the rock against which he leaned, but the trou had turned to black. His non-stop stream of cursing actually calmed Ryck. If the corporal could keep that up, then he would be OK once the Navy docs got a hold of him.

  Ryck subconsciously felt his own skins for the armor in them. It was hard to believe that what looked like stiff, heavy paper, the “bones,” could give any support when slid into the pockets of his skins. They were pliable and permitted movement when they were in the skins, but when hit by a projectile, the molecular structure instantly crystallized to provide a casing that was proof against most small arms projectiles. Like all recruits, Ryck had watched a DI back at Camp Charles get shot right in the chest at close range with no injury, but seeing a demonstration of that and trusting his own armor to work as well was a huge jump in confidence.

  He tore his eyes off the injured corporal to look back to where LCpl Smith was placing the small breaching charge against the solid metal door of the entrance. Although weighing less than a kilo, it nonetheless packed a huge punch. If anyone was waiting on the other side of the door for the Marines, the blast would either take them out or render them incapable of offering any resistance.

  “Fire in the hole!” Smitty yelled out before jumping back to hug the wall.

  The breaching charge was very directional and could be dialed to various degrees of dispersion, but even with 10 meters between him and the door, Ryck moved away another step, pushing back up against the rock.

  The resultant explosion was huge, much larger than the breaching charge alone would have made. Not only was the door breached, but also some of the rock jamb was blown off, sending rubble out into the mine pit.

  “Those fracheads booby-trapped the son-of-a-bitch,” Smitty shouted out. “They about got my ass.”

  By booby-trapping the door, the miners had ensured no one could have survived the resultant explosion on the inside. SSgt England realized that and was already in motion, rushing the blown entrance. Ryck hurried to catch up as they ducked inside the dust-filled room. Ryck cautiously crept forward about five meters and knelt across from the staff sergeant, M99 pointing down the passage leading deeper inside the mine. He couldn’t see much, but he had practiced the action enough times in training even if he hadn’t practiced it with these specific Marines.

  Just inside the door was a holding room of some sort. What once had probably been a desk was now kindling. Ryck was kneeling in a short passage that led out of the room. As the dust settled, he could see the passage led to a T. Ryck knew that miners could be lying in wait right around the corner.

  He focused on the edge of the T, barely listening to SSgt England’s message to the lieutenant that they had breached the entrance. The element held its position, not moving deeper until the lieutenant could bring Element B down the slope. Ryck’s team would have to move then as it would be too crowded for both elements in the room. The lieutenant came into the room, discussed it with the staff sergeant, then decided that Element A would clear the passage to the left, where the mine plans indicated the main spaces lay, while Element B would secure the entrance and clear the passage to the right.

  SSgt England relayed the plan to the element. With Singh down, Pallas took over that fire team. The element was down to nine Marines in total, which didn’t seem like much, but in a narrow corridor, though, it was crowded. They performed a bounding overwatch, one team rushing forward before kneeling and covering the front, then the other team getting up, moving past the covering team before it, too, kneeled and provided cover. The staff sergeant and Ryck kept attaching themselves to the back of whichever team was moving forward. Several times they had to stop and clear rooms that had been cut into the rock, but there was no sign of any of the miners.

  The electricity was still running, so the corridor was well-lit. If the power went out, they would have to rely on their

  NVDs. Deep inside a mine, though, there would be no ambient light for the NVDs to magnify, though, so they would have to turn on their infrared torches as well, and that never provided as good a field of vision as ambient light provided.

  Ryck had been both excited and nervous as they entered the mine. Now, as odd as it seemed to him, he was getting almost bored as they got up, rushed, and got down again. There was no opposition, and Ryck wondered if the miners had fled. The mine was hot, and while his skins were wicking away his sweat, a little air conditioning would have been welcomed.

  When the roof of the corridor collapse ahead of him, it took him a moment to realize what had happened. One moment, he was following SSgt England and Pallas’ team, the next, the roof fell in front of him, the team, the squad leader, and the staff sergeant disappearing in front of him as rocks fell at his feet. He started to turn around to Cpl Büyük and his team when something impacted on his side above his waist. He looked where he felt the impact. The bone insert there had crystallized and was only now beginning to soften. Then it hit him. He’d been shot!

  In the corridor, there were only two directions in which he could go: forward or back. With the rubble on the floor, he could crouch and hope it offered some cover. But that would only delay the inevitable choice of what to do next. So that left attack or retreat.

  Ryck didn’t know how many miners were in front of him. He also forgot that just behind him, Cpl Büyük and three other Marines were only a few meters away. He just reverted to the mindset of over a year of training. He didn’t think of danger, he didn’t think of much. With
a mindless yell, he rushed forward, bounding over the rubble on the deck and the four Marines trapped there.

  He was vaguely aware of Büyük’s team following him, but he had zeroed in on what was in front of him. About 15 meters ahead, another corridor branched off, and at that intersection, part of a person barely showed, holding an old chemical rifle pointed back at him. The lights had been turned off at the intersection, but the flashes from the muzzle told Ryck he was being taken under fire. Just below his left collarbone, he felt the impact again of another round, the stiffening of the bone insert there absorbing the impact. Another four centimeters higher, and the round would have hit his unprotected neck. Primitive weapon or not, a lead slug would really ruin his day.

  Ryck sent a burst of fire back, aiming at the weapon itself. The darts moved at extremely high speeds, and when they hit, they generally created dust as the small needles pulverized metal, wood, or flesh. Ryck could see that he hit the old rifle, at least, and it fell to the deck. He couldn’t tell if he had hit the person wielding it.

  Ryck never stopped. He rushed forward, reaching the intersection in seconds. Without pausing, he turned into the other corridor. In front of him, he could make out two men. One was on the ground, his left arm bleeding. The other was kneeling, one arm around the other’s back, as if to help him up. Ryck’s undivided attention was caught by what was in the other miner’s hand. From countless flicks, he recognized the Peacemaker in the man’s hand. The old handgun looked enormous as he swung it up to point at Ryck.

  The Peacemaker was a sonic disrupter. It had that certain historical panache that some weapons seem to capture among the public. That panache was lost on Ryck, though. Even with his body armor, that weapon would be deadly. The bones would stop and reflect the blast, at least where they covered, but with his exposed face, his head would be turned into so much mush. The weapon had a very limited range, and took a lot of energy, but this close to the miner, Ryck wouldn’t stand a chance.