by Jay Allan
“This will be your home for the next six weeks,” Marken announced, standing in front of the assembled squads with several other members of his race as well as a marine captain. “You will be trained on how to use the weapons that go along with the battle suits, as well as practice being dropped on a planet. You’ll also begin training in the Type Two battle suits.”
The marine captain stepped forward and spoke for the first time. “I am Captain Matt Jenkins, and I will be in command of the platoons assigned to this dome. As of right now, there are two hundred and fifty marines assigned to this training facility. Over to my left you will see some buildings. The Kleese have set up some barracks as well as a mess hall. There is also a small medical center as I have been told that it is not unusual to suffer injuries during this phase of our training.”
“We try to make the training as lifelike as possible,” explained Marken, his voice taking on an ominous tone. “While there normally are very few fatalities, sometimes severe injuries are common in this type of training environment if you become careless.”
“I expect everyone to act like a marine and I will enforce discipline in the ranks,” Captain Jenkins continued as his steel gray eyes swept over the assembled formation. “We will learn how to operate these battle suits and become quite deadly in their use. Our continued survival rests on what we learn in this training.”
“Training will begin tomorrow,” Marken informed them. “You will soon learn just what the battle suits are capable of and the destructive power of the weapons you will be entrusted with. Make the most of this training period; your lives will depend on it.”
“Will Lieutenants Nelson and Williams remain. The rest of you are dismissed and may go check out the barracks and other facilities,” Captain Jenkins said.
Wade stepped forward, noticing a woman lieutenant farther down the line do the same. Captain Jenkins and Marken came to meet them as the rest of the marines began walking toward the indicated buildings.
Nelson and Williams both saluted and stood waiting for the captain to speak. Jenkins returned their salute and his eyes gazed piercingly at the two.
“According to Marken we have six weeks to prepare for our first drop,” Captain Jenkins began. “When we are deployed we are taken down to the target in small drop ships that can carry up to twenty marines in battle suits. Depending on the deployment, the engagement can last a few hours to several days, so we will need to learn how to operate and maintain the battle suits in an ongoing field of battle.”
“As I have mentioned earlier, the suits have a combat charge of ten hours with an emergency reserve of two more,” Marken stated. “The battle suits have to be recharged from the generator inside a drop ship or with a portable one. It takes thirty of your minutes to fully recharge a suit.”
“There are two hundred and fifty marines here presently, as well as a few other personnel that will serve as cooks and in other support capacities,” Captain Jenkins added. “In total, there will be slightly over three hundred of us inside this dome. Each of you will be in charge of five platoons of twenty-five each. There will be two corporals assigned to each platoon. Unfortunately, we are short on sergeants though some of the corporals may later be promoted to fill those slots. I expect you to maintain discipline and learn from this training. For now, all we have is each other, and I intend to keep us together and alive. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir!” Nelson and Williams replied in unison.
“Very well; go get your people settled in. Lieutenant Nelson, your people will be identified by a blue armband. Lieutenant Williams, your people will have a red one. Dismissed.”
As Wade walked toward the buildings with Lieutenant Williams, she turned to him and spoke. “What do you think about all of this? Do you think we will ever see Earth again?”
“Call me Wade, and I hope so. I know that as long as we’re alive there will always be hope.” Looking at Lieutenant Williams, he guessed she was in her late twenties.
“You can call me Beth, and I agree.”
The two walked along in silence for a few moments and then Beth asked. “Did you leave anyone behind?”
Wade was silent for a moment. “My parents and my younger brother; they all live in Phoenix.” He tried not to think of those he left behind too often. He knew that by now his family had to be extremely worried about what had happened to him.
“I left my fiancée as well as my mother,” Beth said with a sad look in her eyes. “I was supposed to get married on my next leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Wade replied.
Beth stopped and looked at Wade intently. “We need to find a way home!”
Wade nodded in agreement. “Let’s just get through this training and see what we can learn. The more we know about their technology the better off we will be. It’s too early yet to be making any escape plans.”
-o0o-
Marken watched the two lieutenants walk off. Captain Jenkins was on his way to the mess hall to check it out as well as the supply situation. Marken smiled to himself. The three hundred Humans in this dome had been specially chosen by Marken and several others of his race. If their plan was to work, it all depended on these so called Human marines.
This was the smallest of the training domes, and it had taken some special tinkering with the assignment rosters to get these Humans assigned to this particular facility. Many of the other domes had much larger numbers, with the largest domes holding just over two thousand. What the Humans didn’t know was that the majority of their people were still in stasis and wouldn’t be awakened until they were needed to replace casualties. That’s how the Kleese worked. The sixty thousand Humans they had abducted would serve them for decades in a military capacity as they were awoken in small groups. Marken should know; his own race had been abducted in much the same way.
CHAPTER 7
Michel Kirby swore as he fought the controls of the Raven. The fifty-meter prospecting ship was descending through Earth’s turbulent atmosphere.
“Winds are gusting to over seventy,” Brian reported worriedly, as both of them worked to keep the ship steady. “Stabilizers are barely holding us on the flight path.”
“What flight path?” Kirby complained as he fired several thrusters to keep the ship stable as it continued to descend. “We should have waited for the winds to calm before attempting this.” Small external wings had been added to the Raven to help increase flight stability. At the moment, they didn’t seem to be helping.
“Ten kilometers to the ground,” Marcus Santos reported as he watched his instruments closely. “We’re coming down slightly southwest of our targeted landing zone.”
“Damn,” Kirby muttered as he tried to adjust course. He glanced at the viewscreen just above the control panel, but all it showed was a thick dark cloud layer.”
“It’s going to be crap down there,” commented Brian, shaking his head. “I just hope the people we’re going for are ready.”
“They better be,” Kirby responded as another high gust of wind buffeted the ship. “Extend the landing struts; I’m taking us in.”
The ship continued to descend, dropping down through the thick cloud layer into the blackness below. It was mid afternoon, but the land was covered in eerie darkness. The cloud layer was full of ash and dust, and very little light was penetrating. It was one month after the initial catastrophe and the Earth still hadn’t finished dying. Kirby knew it was now in a nuclear winter, one it might never recover from.
The ship dropped down over a small city in Central Missouri and after a moment, brilliant searchlights snapped on to shine on the ground below. For a few precious minutes, Kirby scanned the viewscreen until he saw what he wanted. “That shopping center parking lot is big enough, we can land there.” With precision, he brought the ship down until he felt the landing struts touch the ground.
“We have solid contact,” Brian reported with relief in his eyes as a number of green lights flashed on the control panel in front of him.
“Engines off,” Kirby responded as he reached forward and flipped off several switches.
The engines shut down, and all that remained were the steady sounds of the ship’s power and environmental systems. They had made a safe landing.
“Let’s go find our survivors,” Michael said as he unbuckled his safety harness and stood up.
Going down a short corridor and through several hatches, he arrived at one of the newly modified cargo holds. Four army rangers were waiting there for him, all heavily armed.
“Open the hatch and lower the ramp,” Michael ordered as he put on a heavy parka from a nearby locker.
He watched as the hatch slid open and the metal ramp extended until it touched the concrete of the parking lot. Volcanic ash swirled around in the outside air, reducing visibility. Michael knew the ground was covered in a thick layer of the stuff, which might make getting to their destination difficult.
Letting out a deep breath, he walked over and climbed into a refurbished Humvee that had been designed just for this type of operation. The four army rangers climbed in and one took the driver’s seat, starting the engine. A moment later, they drove down the ramp and set off toward their destination. Glancing behind, Michael watched with satisfaction as the cargo ramp slid back up and the hatch closed. No one could now enter the ship and the crew should be safe until they returned.
“Who is this doctor we’re supposed to rescue?” Sergeant Andrews asked as he gazed out the bulletproof glass windows of the vehicle.
They were driving down a wide street covered in volcanic ash. Andrews figured it was already over six inches deep and getting deeper every day. The Humvee had been equipped with special air filters for its diesel engine as well as an air filtration system to take out the contaminants in the atmosphere so the occupants wouldn’t have to wear masks. The air outside was still fit to breathe; you just had to be careful about the falling volcanic ash and make sure you wore a breathing mask anytime you were out in it. The ash could fill up and shut down your lungs like concrete.
“He’s a disease specialist that worked for the CDC,” Michael responded. “He’s supposed to be quite brilliant, and they want him up at Luna City. There’s growing concern that with the steadily worsening conditions, a disease outbreak might occur in the people we are rescuing. Also, having so many people cooped up in confined environments such as the Luna City domes or the interior habitat at Vesta, they wanted some specialists on hand in case a disease were to break out that the local doctors couldn’t handle. The hospital and the civil defense center are still operational in this community, and Holbrook station managed to contact them over the emergency frequency.”
“I am surprised that more of them are not demanding to go up on the Raven,” Sergeant Andrews commented as he scanned their surroundings carefully, ensuring that there were no threats. The Humvee had a number of large spotlights, and these were being used to light up the surrounding streets and buildings as they drove.
“The back of the Humvee is packed with emergency medical supplies and several crates of MREs,” Michael explained. “We’re going to turn them over in exchange for the doctor and his family. They have also agreed to gather certain materials for us that we will pick up at a later date. We promised them that we would come back and evacuate additional survivors. They also know that if there are any difficulties with this exchange, we will not be returning.”
“It’s a tough world out there now,” Andrews said in a quiet voice as he continued to gaze out the window at the desolation. “I pity anyone that is trapped down here.”
Michael nodded, gazing at several large buildings in their spotlights where roofs had collapsed from the weight of the ash. All the lights in the town were out as the nation’s power grid had finally collapsed from the damage caused by the volcanoes and the earthquakes. There was no doubt in Michael’s mind that there were probably other survivors still in the town, but the horrible atmospheric conditions prevented them from coming outside. Most were encamped in their homes trying to stay warm and living off what food they had stored. Michael knew that by now the supermarkets, convenience stores, and any other places where food was sold had been stripped clean.
“It’s just up ahead,” Sergeant Andrews spoke as they pulled onto a side street with a big blue sign with a white H in the center, indicating a hospital was up ahead.
As they drove up to the hospital, they were surprised to see the interior lights were on, with several National Guard troops standing outside under the breezeway at the entrance where they were safe from falling ash.
They pulled up beneath the breezeway and stopped. Sergeant Andrews climbed out and went to speak to the two soldiers. After a moment, one of them went inside to return shortly with an older man. Michael got out of the Humvee and walked over to them.
“This is Doctor Prescott, who is in charge of the hospital,” one of the National Guard troops explained.
“I’m Michael Kirby,” Michael said, reaching out and shaking the doctor’s hand. “We have some supplies for you inside the Humvee.”
“Thank you,” Prescott replied with gratitude in his eyes.
“You still have power,” commented Sergeant Andrews, gesturing toward the lights in the hospital. “Are you running on an emergency generator?”
“Sometimes,” Prescott replied as he looked over at the heavily armed sergeant. “The hospital was fortunate; several years ago we installed some wind generators as a cost saving measure. As long as the wind blows we have plenty of power; when it dies down we have a large diesel generator that kicks in.”
Michael nodded his head approvingly. He would make sure to include that in his report to Darren when he returned to Holbrook station. If the hospital had a dependable source of power, they could possibly survive for the long term as long as they had food to eat.
Sergeant Andrews had the Humvee pull up as close to the door as possible and they began unloading the supplies. Several more National Guard troops appeared and pitched in.
“That’s more than I expected,” Prescott said with a huge sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you.”
“How many people are still alive in your town?” Michael asked curiously.
Prescott was silent for a moment as he thought over the question. “We have about five hundred survivors here at the hospital and the nearby buildings that serve as part of our medical annex. We just shut down the civil defense center at the city hall and moved those people here. There are probably a few hundred more scattered around town. We don’t see the others too often.”
Michael saw a young man and woman along with three children step out of the hospital door. All were dressed in heavy coats, and the kids all looked frightened. He knew that these must be the people they had come to get.
“When we get back, I will see about getting you some more supplies,” Michael promised as one of the army rangers escorted the family to the back of the Humvee.
“Thanks,” Prescott replied with a grateful smile. “We will take all the help we can get, particularly food. We’ll also start gathering up the items you requested and let you know when they’re ready.”
Getting back in the Humvee, they started back toward the Raven. Looking in the back, Michael saw the doctor and one of the army rangers talking. He was sure the doctor and his wife were full of questions about what would happen to them now. The three kids were quiet, not sure what was happening.
They were nearly back to the Raven when several shots rang out, striking the window of the Humvee. Michael instinctively ducked as the driver slammed on the brakes. One of the army rangers popped open the upper hatch and soon the M280 machine gun opened up. The three children started screaming in fright. Michael watched as a trail of brilliant tracers penetrated the darkness to strike at where the unknown gunman had fired. After a moment, the firing ceased and the spotlights were turned in the direction of the shots. Michael felt sick when he saw two bodies lying beneath the lights.
&nb
sp; “It’s like this in every city we go into,” Sergeant Andrews explained with a sad look in his eyes as the Humvee started moving again. “People are starting to kill one another for food.”
Michael nodded in understanding. The world was a dangerous place due to the earthquakes and the volcanoes, but the struggle between the scattered survivors made it even more dangerous to anyone who dared to venture out. Looking in the back, he saw the doctor and his wife comforting their kids. Michael knew they had all been shaken by the sudden attack.
They pulled up to the Raven and after signaling Brian, the cargo bay hatch opened and the ramp descended. The Humvee quickly drove up and was soon anchored down in the cargo hold. Ten minutes later, the Raven leaped back into the air as her main rocket engines fired. It was time to return to Holbrook Station and see what their next mission would be.
-o0o—
Lawrence and General Wainright were in the main operations building at Jornada looking out of the large quartz glass windows at the darkness outside. It was more like a dark twilight as the ash fall here was not nearly as heavy as it was just to the north.
“Do you have any family?” Lawrence asked as he watched a shuttle taxi down one of the three long runways in preparation for taking off.
“My wife and son are back at the base,” Wainright replied. “They’re safe enough for now.”
Lawrence nodded; he wasn’t married and only had a sister. Fortunately, she also worked here at Jornada and her husband and two kids were now living at the spaceport in temporary housing that had been erected by the military. It was a relief to Lawrence to know that he had family nearby.
“We’ve been bringing in a lot of military families,” Wainright added. “General Pittman has been instrumental in that. We have helicopters flying rescue missions daily looking for people as well as supplies. There are nearly one hundred thousand military personnel and their families at White Sands and the two military bases now.”