Starship Exodus (The Galactic Wars Book 7)

by Tripp Ellis

  Carson nodded.

  “Chest pain?”

  Carson nodded again. "My cough is not too bad, but every now and then I hack up some nasty green shit.”

  "Stomach hurt?"

  “Feels like I drank battery acid.”

  Bates just frowned.

  “Don’t look so encouraging,” Carson said.

  Bates still didn’t say anything.

  “This is the part where you say, don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

  “You’re a little further along than I thought. You might have more like 2 days.”

  “Then what?”

  Bates hesitated. “I don’t think you really want to know.”

  “Fuck you. Tell me.” Bates had Carson’s full attention.

  “You’ll probably start bleeding out your eyes first. With any luck, you’ll be in a coma by then and won’t be aware.”

  Carson felt his stomach twist. His face went a lighter shade of pale.

  “Sorry, Sarge. I’ve informed the LT that you need to be cas-evaced immediately. But communications are down. If you can get to the FOB in time, there is a chance they might have an antidote.”

  The Forward Operating Base was on Beta Arcturus 12. There was barely enough time for a medical ship to reach the outpost on Ceti Reticuli 9.

  By now, Carson was starting to get the chills. He was shaking uncontrollably. The room was damp and dank. Wind whistled in through the holes in the walls and roof. A light rain filtered in. It wasn't the ideal environment for someone trying to fight off the flu, much less the Proxima flu.

  “Do me a favor," Kyle said. “If I don’t make it, I need you to get a message to my girl.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I'll record something on my PDU. Then when you get back in range of the network, you can send it to her."

  Bates nodded solemnly. “Hey, you never know… Don’t give up yet. Maybe this interference will lift and we can get a message out. Get you cas-evaced.”

  Carson tried to force a smile.

  “In the meantime, I want to keep you quarantined from everyone else. Wear this quarantine mask. Don't let anybody eat or drink after you. And don't hook up with Flores in 3rd squad. I think she's got eyes for you.”

  Carson chuckled. He took the mask from Bates and placed it over his nose and mouth. "Don't worry about that."

  "If you need anything, just holler at me. I'll be close by.” Bates stood up and left the room.

  Carson tried to sit up, but the world was spinning. He lay back down as the full weight of the diagnosis started to sink in. Was this really how he was going to go out? When he had joined the Marine Corps he had prepared himself to be killed or wounded in battle. He fully accepted the possibility of getting shot, blown apart by a grenade, or incinerated by a plasma bolt—but a virus? That hadn't even entered his consciousness when he signed on the dotted line. How the hell did he get the damn thing anyway? He hadn't been to any hot zones. No one else in the platoon was showing signs of infection.

  There were a whole slew of unknown pathogens scattered throughout the galaxy. Some of them could lie dormant for centuries. It was possible he could have just been a victim of bad luck. Touched the wrong surface, then wiped his nose. Marines were routinely inoculated for various pathogens that they might encounter, but this seemed to have slipped through the cracks.

  His train of thought was interrupted by the strange howling again. It echoed throughout the hills and filtered into the room. A moment later, the screeching wail was answered by another howl. Whatever these creatures were, there were at least two of them out there.

  Carson couldn't help but wonder how the rest of the squad was faring. He felt like a slacker just lying there. He tried to sit up again, but quickly realized it was a bad idea. He lay back down and pulled out his PDU. It was a thin, transparent piece of smart glass the size of a cell phone. He activated the front facing camera and began to record a message. He pulled down his quarantine mask so his voice wouldn’t sound muffled. "Hey, Babe. I’ve got some good news, and I’ve got some bad news. Which one do you want to hear first? I know you probably want to hear the bad news first. I know if I don't tell you the bad news first, you’re just going to fast-forward through the video until you find it. So, here goes.” Carson took a deep breath. “Looks like I'm not coming back from this one. I just want you to know how much you mean to me. And I should have given you this before I left.” Carson dug into his pocket and pulled out a sparkling engagement ring. He held it up to the camera. I was waiting for the perfect time, and, well…”

  Carson’s throat grew dry, and he got a little choked up. His puffy red eyes began to water. “I’m an idiot—“

  The distant clatter of gunfire echoed off the hillside. Short staccato bursts. They were barely audible.

  Carson stopped recording and sat up. He placed the mask back over his nose and mouth. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His squad was in contact with an unknown enemy, and he was sitting on the sidelines.

  He tried to stand up, but his legs were like wet noodles. He muscled through it with a burst of adrenaline. He shouldered his pack and grabbed his rifle and staggered out of the room.

  Bates caught sight of him and quickly put on his bio mask. His muffled voice rumbled out behind the barrier. “Hey, hey! What are you doing, Sergeant?"

  “I'm not going to lay around waiting to die while my troops are taking fire.” Carson put in his earbud and activated his comm link. “2-1 Alpha, this is 2-1 Sierra Lima.”

  Static crackled over the line

  “Repeat. 2-1 Alpha, this is 2-1 Sierra Lima. How copy?”

  There was still no response. There was nothing but the wind and the patter of rain. And the eerie howling.

  It seemed to fill the hillside, coming from multiple locations. Screeching, squealing. It was a horrible sound.

  “You can’t be out here,” Bates said. “You're putting the rest of the platoon at risk.”

  "I just spent the entire flight over here cooped up with the platoon. I'm sure everyone's already been exposed.”

  “Then why isn't anybody else showing symptoms?

  “You're the corpsman. You tell me?"

  9

  Chloe

  “How long are you going to be gone for?” Tim asked.

  “It’s a six-week program,” Chloe said.

  “Good. That’ll get you off my back for six weeks.” He smiled.

  Chloe rolled her eyes and finished stuffing her gear into a duffel bag. She zipped up the bulging bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. “I can tell I’m going to be missed around here.”

  “Not really. Just don’t get killed out there. You’re the only family I’ve got left.” Timmy gave her a hug. He seemed like he didn’t want to let go. They had lost their mother during the Decluvian invasion, and their father before that on some covert operation.

  “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  The two separated. Both of their eyes were slightly misty.

  Chloe moved toward the hatch.

  “Hey, I’m thinking about enlisting.”

  “You’re only 16.” Chloe looked astonished.

  “So. I’ll be 17 soon, then I can go in on the delayed entry program. I mean, what difference does it really make? We live on a star destroyer. I’m not going back to New Earth. There’s nothing left for either of us there anymore.”

  Chloe couldn’t argue with him. He sounded just like she did at that age. Plus it was true, there was nothing left for them back on New Earth. “You know what branch you’re going to join?”

  Tim shrugged. “I don’t think I’d make much of a pilot. I’m thinking about becoming a Reaper, like Dad.”

  Chloe was impressed. She knew how hard the training was. “Well, you know who to talk to about that.”

  Tim nodded. He had been planning to talk to Captain Walker for a while.

  Chloe pressed the button on the bulkhead and the hatch slid open. She stepped out into the hallway and weaved throug
h the passageways. The Revenant was alive with activity, as it always was. There was a constant flow of people coming and going in the passageways. The ever present rumble of the engines faintly hummed in the background. It was a soothing, constant drone.

  She made her way through the ship to Levi’s quarters. She banged on the hatch, and after a few moments a strange girl answered. Chloe’s heart leapt in her throat. The girl’s lipstick was smeared and it was clear she been fooling around with someone. She hoped to God it wasn’t Levi.

  “Is Levi around?”

  “Who?”

  Chloe finally caught sight of Levi’s roommate, Aiden, in the background.

  “No, he’s not here,” Aiden said. “I think he’s working right now.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, and found her way down to the hangar deck. Levi was assisting the aviation electronics techs, running maintenance checks on navigation systems and other flight controls. He was sitting in a Stingray with his face buried in the dash. A jumble of wires splayed out in all directions from the console. It was a chaotic mess that looked like it was never going to go back together, but Levi knew what he was doing. He had a knack for electronics and was putting his skills to good use.

  “Hey,” Chloe said.

  “Hey,” Levi replied, focused on his work. “What brings you down here?”

  “My application got approved.”

  Levi stopped what he was doing and glanced at her perplexed. “I thought you said it had been denied.”

  Chloe shrugged. “I got Captain Walker to pull some strings.”

  He noticed her duffel bag. “And you’re leaving now?”

  “You’re supposed to be excited for me.”

  Levi stammered. “I am. A little notice would have been nice.”

  “You know how these things go.”

  “How long are you going to be gone for?”

  “It’s a six week program.”

  Levi looked crushed. “Six weeks.”

  “It’s not that big a deal. It will go by fast.”

  Levi sighed, disappointed. “I hardly see you as it is, I guess it won’t make much difference.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair.”

  “It’s true. When was the last time we spent time together?”

  Chloe pondered this for a moment. She shrugged, then tentatively offered, “Last Tuesday?”

  “That’s over a week ago. It seems like we’re on completely opposite schedules.”

  “So, I’m not going to see you for six weeks, and the last thing we’re going to do together is fight?”

  Levi took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little frustrated. That’s all.”

  Chloe dropped her duffel bag on the deck and climbed the ladder to the cockpit so that she was standing level with him. She gave him a kiss. “I promise, when I get back we’re going to spend some quality time together. Maybe I can put in for some leave and we can take a mini vacation. How does that sound?”

  She kissed him again, and their lips melted into one another.

  Levi looked a little dazed after they separated. It was easy to see he was captivated by her. A slight grin broke through on his lips. “I think that sounds pretty good.”

  Chloe smiled. “It’s a date. I promise.” She gave him one last peck and climbed down the ladder. She hoisted her duffel bag over her shoulder.

  “Call me when you get there. Let me know how it’s going.”

  “I will.”

  Levi stuck his nose back into the electronics and Chloe headed toward the flight deck. A Vantage waited to take the pilots to NSSWC. Chloe was intimately familiar with the dropships—she had been flying them on a regular basis. The Vantage was the preferred method of troop insertions for the Navy Reapers. An elite force of special warfare operators.

  Six pilots from the Revenant had been selected for Advanced Fighter Weapons School. Kilmer was among them. He leaned against the Vantage, holding court among the other pilots. He had a short, blond crewcut, ice blue eyes, and a square jaw. He was a good-looking young man from Texana, and had an ego to match. He caught sight of Chloe approaching and his lips curled up in disdain. “Look, it’s the charity case.”

  Chloe’s face reddened and her blood boiled. “I’m not a charity case. I would have had better scores than you.”

  “But you didn’t. You got your points taken away.” He had a snide grin.

  “Real combat doesn’t count points. Out there, you either live or die.”

  “Don’t lecture me about real combat. What would you know about it? Your entire military career has been based on favors called in by your connections,” Kilmer said. “The rest of us have to earn it.”

  Chloe was furious. “I’ve earned everything, trust me.”

  “Alright. Listen up, people,” Lieutenant Morgan shouted as she marched onto the flight deck. “You’re going to be attending the most prestigious flight school in the galaxy with the best pilots from all over the fleet. Make a good showing. Don’t embarrass me.” Her eyes blazed into Chloe.

  “Aye, sir,” the group responded.

  “Load up.”

  The pilots filed up the loading ramp of the Vantage and strapped into their seats. There were two rows of fold-down chairs on either side of the bulkheads in the cargo area. The Vantage could hold up to 20 troops, and there were plenty of empty seats. It was a little bit of an odd sensation—this was the first time Chloe had flown as a passenger in a Vantage.

  The craft smelled like steel, grease, and canvas webbing. It was mixed with the scent of stale, crusted blood from evaced casualties the vehicle had previously carried. It didn’t matter how much the deck was scrubbed, the dead would haunt the vehicle forever.

  The pilot ran his preflight checks, and all systems came back green. They were cleared for takeoff and the Vantage slowly lifted from the deck and eased its way out of the bay. The pilot programmed in the jump coordinates for Phobos 6. A few seconds later the bulkheads warbled and rippled as a quantum distortion washed through the Vantage. Chloe felt her stomach twist up in knots for a moment as they entered slide-space. It was always an awkward transition, but she was used to it. Some people never got used to the sensation. Getting queasy was one thing, but spilling your guts on the deck was another. You never had any hope of becoming a pilot if you hurled every time you made a quantum jump.

  The nebula Phobos 6 orbited was a sight to behold—a multi-colored cloud of ionized gasses and dust particles, fluorescing from the light of a small star within.

  Atmosphere processors made the air breathable on Phobos 6, but it was still a little light on oxygen. It was like being at high-altitude. It was easy to get a headache and feel out of breath. There was almost no UV protection. More than 15 minutes in the sun and you were risking a burn. It was a gray, desolate oversized boulder floating in space, from which it earned it’s nickname—the Rock. And though it had a certain beauty in it’s own right, it wasn’t a tourist destination.

  The NSSWC also served as a Forward Operating Base for the 1st Marine Light Armor Recon Battalion, part of the 1st Division Marine Space Expeditionary Unit. It was a perfect location for running ground infantry drills and blowing stuff up. There weren't any neighbors to bother on Phobos 6. No innocent civilians to wander onto the demolition range.

  The Vantage descended toward the landing pad. The air rippled and distorted under the heat of the vertical thrusters. The landing pylons compressed under the massive weight of the dropship. Hydraulics whirred as the back ramp opened. The pilots grabbed their gear and marched onto the landing pad where they were met by a Lieutenant Commander. He didn’t look like your typical pilot. He was short and stout and had the face of a bulldog. He had the demeanor of a Marine drill instructor.

  The pilots stood in formation and dropped their duffel bags at their feet. They gave the commander a sharp salute, which was promptly returned.

  “Welcome to the Naval Strike and Space Warfare Center. I’m Lieutenant Commander Cash, and I will be one of your
instructors here at the Rock. You will be learning to fly some of the most innovative and high tech spacecraft in the galaxy. We will teach you the essentials of attack and defense, as well as the many ways you will provide logistic support to the fleet. You will also learn how to operate and maintain internal and external spacecraft systems. You will receive specialized training in rescue operations, replenishment missions, enemy surveillance, and advanced tactical systems. You will learn galactic navigation and flight planning. You will learn survival techniques, as well as how to endure a POW situation. If you complete the course here, you will be sent to APST with the Navy Reapers. It’s the most comprehensive and grueling prisoner survival training in a galaxy. But most importantly, we will teach you space combat techniques. You are here to become trained killers. There is no doubt about it.” Cash’s eyes narrowed at the pilots. “If I have any conscientious objectors, now is the time to get back on that Vantage and go back to where you came from. Up until this point, the closest many of you have come to seeing actual combat is the simulator. Many of you will die out there in the far reaches of space. Your body will drift to a cold icy grave. You will never have a burial. Your family and friends will not be able to lay you to rest. They will never have a sense of closure knowing you are drifting out there for all eternity. We lost over 50% of our combat pilots during the last engagement. Half of you will not live to see your 30th birthday. If you have a problem with that, again, get back on that Vantage and go back to where you came from. You can make a nice living flying cargo ships in the Military Space-lift Command, or as a commercial pilot.”

  The pilots sneaked glances to one another. Some of them swallowed hard. Most hadn’t contemplated the finality of their existence in such explicit terms.

  “Safety is a critical component of everything you do here at the Rock and beyond. We do not tolerate mistakes. Two safety violations and you’re gone. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” the pilots shouted in unison.

  “As a combat space pilot, you won’t be sitting around eating jelly doughnuts. The Navy expects you to keep in tip top shape. As such, there is a heavy physical fitness component to training here at the Rock. Are there any questions?”