She’d been in the bay before, but more for a tour rather than an actual requisition run. When you spent nearly all of your time in the training domes, the personnel decks, and the rec areas, you hardly ever appreciated Trident’s full size and scope. But the equipment bay certainly rectified that.
Kali compared her block list to the AI’s. They matched. Now all she had to do was get her squad to perform an ID check on every single piece of hardware. It was a boring task, and she didn’t look forward to it. Neither did her squad. But it needed to be done and Cartwright had given her the duty.
While Portunes was in charge of the ship bays and Janus controlled the overall station duties, the final member of the AI trio was named Quirinus. It managed logistics and acted as the non-human quartermaster. She’d never had to interface with Quirinus before, and the AI was very different from Portunes. Instead of conversational arrogance, Quirinus had no opinions. It merely stated facts and responded in kind. She wondered if the sentient AI had chosen to present that face to its masters, or if it had been trained with those qualities in mind. Either way, it was brutally efficient in all that it did.
Quirinus sent a message to her block. Corporal Kalimura. I have the list of equipment for your journey. No doubt you have read it.
“No doubt,” she said to the holo terminal. Her two fireteams stood at ease behind her. She felt their eyes as well as their annoyance at having been tasked to double and triple check the AI. She understood how they felt all too well. “Where are we setting up?”
A grav-plate off to her right began to flash. Several loaders and Atmo-steel chests sat a few meters away. If you would lead your marines to the grav-plate, we can get started.
She considered establishing a private block link to the AI, allowing her to ask questions without speaking, but decided against it. If the AI wanted to talk in private, it could send her messages as it was doing now; she wasn’t in the mood to have to hide her thoughts from the sentient while attempting to communicate with it. Portunes had great patience and didn’t take offense, but she had no idea how Quirinus would react to any inadvertent slips.
She turned to her squad. “Carbonaro and Niro, you two run the loaders. Wendt and Elliott have the pack duty. Let’s get this done right. We miss something and it’ll be our asses. Understood?”
“Aye, Corporal!”
“Get to it.” The squad broke apart. Kali managed the inventory, sending coordinates to the marines running the loaders. As they returned with equipment loads, Wendt and Elliott took the various crates, scanned the items, and either packed the larger crates with the smaller ones, or moved the larger items aside. When they finished a load, the platform sunk through the floor to the hangar bay.
As her squad continued the load out, Cartwright and his squad took the inventory and packed it into the ship. Cartwright was no doubt double checking her team’s accuracy and marking off items just as she had. S&R Black wasn’t exactly a small ship. It had the capacity for twenty-five humans including hybrid-stasis coffins, 150 days of provisions for a full complement, emergency water generators, ice harvesters, weapons, as well as towing equipment. Since Black’s current crew numbered 14, they had room for 11 survivors. Depending on the mission, S&R Black’s cargo bay could be outfitted with additional stasis coffins for a larger number of troops or civilians. In short, she was versatile.
Before each mission, the command crew, with assistance from the Trio, decided what provisions and load out afforded the best chance for success. Since it was a training mission, she didn’t notice any oddities in the quartermaster requisitions. S&R Black’s destination was deep in the Kuiper Belt, meaning there was no reason for support vehicles that weren’t space worthy. The hybrid fighter, one that worked in both atmospheric and non-atmospheric conditions, would be a waste as well. Captain Dunn had decided upon two AV-33 Manta Ray zero-g assault skiffs and an SV-52 zero-g support vehicle.
The skiffs, also known as Rays, were designed to carry a squad of marines, plus an NCO, from ships to a zero-g target. Rays had no life support systems apart from oxygen tanks used to refill suits. What they did have were weapons.
At the back of the Ray, on a raised platform, sat a mounted flechette cannon. Marines operated the cannon while standing and aiming the weapon. Flechettes could be changed out between hull-piercing and anti-personnel rounds. In addition to the cannon, two fixed cutting beams protruded from the fore. If marines needed to cut through a section of hull, the skiff’s beams fired heated plasma that could cut through a square meter of solid Atmo-steel in less than a minute. Larger ingress cuts could be made, but took longer than a minute, and in that amount of time, you could be little more than a bag of blood floating through space.
Kali had never seen real combat, but she’d logged plenty of hours in the Ray simulators as pilot, cannoneer, cutter, and base support. That part of z-g training had been easy for her. But commanding a squad of marines while under fire? The simulations might give a good facsimile, but it still wasn’t the real thing.
Niro’s loader, a large Atmo-steel platform that floated across the bay floor, returned from one of the many rows with a Ray. Wendt and Elliott watched as the loader approached, hands on their hips. Carbonaro would no doubt soon return with one of her own. Elliott scanned the serial numbers and they popped up on Kali's display. She and Quirinus checked the numbers and ensured they matched. Elliott connected his block to the diagnostics aboard the skiff and ran through the standard routines. As if on cue, Carbonaro returned with an identical skiff. She maneuvered her loader next to Niro’s with just enough space for Wendt to do his job. After logging another set of serial numbers, Wendt began running his own diagnostics.
While waiting, Kali looked through the list of supplies already sent to the hangar bay. 20k rounds of flechette ammunition, enough for small-arms reloads, skiff cannons, and the ship itself, had already been loaded. Cutting-beam batteries, weapons parts, extra suits, and medical supplies were aboard. The skiffs and the support vehicle were more or less all that remained, apart from provisions, and, of course, the missiles.
The first diagnostics scan pinged her block. Green across the board. Niro backed his loader and returned to the rows of shelves for his next load. A moment later, the next skiff reported green. Carbonaro removed the loader from the platform and retreated further into the bay. Wendt and Elliott stepped off the platform and toggled the lever to lower the platform to the hangar below.
The large rectangle of Atmo-steel slowly disappeared into the floor, affording a brief view of S&R Black and the marines below. The only large vehicle left was the z-g support vehicle. The Rays had checked out, but they almost always did. With liquid-nitrogen thrusters, and a typical running time of a standard hour, they had very few moving parts and even fewer computer components. They were designed and built to function, even if they were hit with an EMP burst or flechette cannons. The damned things were practically indestructible.
The marines magnetically tethered to the space-worthy skiffs were the only chink in their armor. While an AI could control a skiff if everyone aboard was incapacitated, there was very little it could do without live, conscious humans. If all the marines were killed, there was no reason to keep the skiff going or retrieve it. Instead, an AI or the command crew aboard the command ship could use the Ray as an armored missile to destroy or disable enemies in a counter-attack.
Assault vehicles were a different matter altogether. Kali hated them. No matter how many hours she’d spent in simulations, she still felt as though she didn’t know what she was doing when piloting them. The holo-displays were complex and keeping all the data in her head at once led to mistakes and near panic. With any luck, she’d escape z-g combat training without having to prove proficiency outside the simulator. At least that was her hope.
Niro returned, but his loader was empty. Instead, he towed a craft nearly three times the size of a skiff. The octagonal SV-52 vehicle barely fit on the loader’s platform. The heavily armed craft sported a
pair of tac-missiles beneath the vehicle’s “wings,” anti-projectile defenses, a pair of fixed flechette cannons beneath the cabin, and a larger, mounted flechette cannon that rose from the top and aft.
Training mission. And we’re armed for war, she thought as she watched the SV-52 slowly slide off the loader and onto the platform. Niro guided the loader away from the platform and waited. Wendt and Elliott checked to ensure the spacecraft was firmly secured to the platform. The lights went green on the holo; the support vehicle was within the platform area. “Let’s send it down,” she said into the comms.
Wendt and Elliott gave her the thumbs up. The platform slowly slid out of view and into the hangar below. “What’s left, Quirinus?”
The AI answered without a pause. A number of smaller items, Corporal. Your loading team has the coordinates and serial numbers.
“All the large equipment is loaded, correct?”
Yes, Corporal.
She opened a channel to Cartwright. “Gunny. We have everything except for some odds and ends. Please confirm.”
A moment passed before she received a response. “Confirmed, Corporal. Get the rest of that shit down here so we can start checking the packing.”
“Aye, Gunny.” She closed the channel and hit up Niro and Carbonaro. “What’s the status?”
“Loading the final two crates of spare parts,” Niro said.
“Corporal, I’ve got the CO2 filters loaded. We’ll have enough air for two trips to and from Pluto at this rate. Who ordered such a large quantity?”
Who indeed? “Good question, but one I don’t have an answer for. Let’s move. Gunny is getting impatient.” She heard all the marines sigh through her comms and couldn’t help but smile. When Cartwright was in a mood, everyone suffered except the officers. She noticed Wendt and Elliott suddenly coming to life instead of milling around the platform. They checked the status, and went through the equipment list once more. It wasn’t their job, but she was glad to see they took initiative. At least under the right threats.
Carbonaro returned first. She wasn’t kidding about the filters. A two-meter cube of Atmo-steel slid off her loader and onto the platform. The marine slid her loader away, parked it in the designated area, and then leaped off to help with the platform. Now, Kalimura thought, how do I get them to jump like that for me?
“Loaded,” Carbonaro said.
“Corporal?” Wendt said. “We’ve got the scrubbers ready. And here comes Niro.”
The other loader appeared, ten crates stacked atop it. Kali frowned and looked back at the list. “Quantity:10. Contents: classified.” Serial numbers appeared below the contents. “Quirinus? Do you know what these classified crates are?”
Yes, Corporal, the AI said. You have the right ones.
She knew the answer, but thought she’d ask anyway. “I assume the contents are above my pay grade?”
You are correct, Corporal. Once S&R Black is in space, I’m sure Captain Dunn will make their contents known.
Figures, she thought. Wendt, Niro, Carbonaro, and Elliott worked quickly, placing the last load around the large scrubber crate. When they finished, both fireteams stepped away from the platform. Carbonaro was holding her thumb up. Kali nodded to her. “Quirinus? Can you confirm we are finished with the load out?”
Yes, Corporal. Your team has performed the task with sufficient efficiency. I will make Gunnery Sergeant Cartwright aware of this fact.
She rolled her eyes. “Right. Thank you.”
You’re welcome, Corporal. Good luck on your journey.
She nodded to the holo before disconnecting. The screen of statistics and diagnostic information disappeared leaving her staring into the massive bay. When she turned to face her squad, they were still waiting for her orders. “Good job, marines. Let’s go to the hangar and see what we can do to help Gunny.”
The squad walked up the steps and followed her out of the equipment bay. She thought about trying to start up some idle conversation, but the marines seemed lost in their own thoughts.
“Excuse me, Corporal?” Carbonaro asked.
Kali slowed her pace and turned to her. “Yes?”
“This doesn’t seem like a training mission.”
“No, shit,” Wendt said.
Kali stopped and turned to the four marines. At first, they seemed concerned she’d halted their march, then their eyes focused on her with an unspoken question. “Are all of you wondering the same thing?” With the exception of Private Niro, they nodded. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea what’s going on. I know the command crew held a meeting after we left the briefing, but I’ve no clue what it was about or how it affects the mission.”
Carbonaro traded glances with the other marines before looking back at the Corporal. “What the hell is out there in the Kuiper Belt? We’ve never trained out there. Shit, as far as I know no one has ever trained out there, much less traveled there without a damned good reason.”
Kalimura held the woman’s stare for a moment before putting her hands on her hips. “Okay, let’s be clear about this. I’m officially telling you to stop worrying about it. Let’s just do our jobs and we’ll see what’s what when the Captain decides to tell us.”
“But,” Carbonaro said, “unofficially?”
Kali couldn’t help grinning. “Unofficially, I’m wondering the same thing. They put this little mission together a little too fast for my liking. But I’m going to work my ass off to make it a success. And if you’re like me, you will too. Any other questions?” The marines were silent. “Good. Let’s double time it to the hangar.” She turned and jogged down the corridor. The slap of boots on Atmo-steel told her the teams were right behind her.
Chapter Eleven
Sweat was the least of his problems, but his jumpsuit was drenched. Sam Dickerson panted for a moment and then wiped a sleeve across his brow. Inside S&R Black’s cargo area, he and his squadmate, Private Dan Lyke, had already stacked and sorted dozens of crates. Provisions still had to be unloaded, the vacuum-packed pouches sorted and stowed in the galley machines, and the survival equipment tested once more before locking it all down. And they hadn’t even begun working through the ammunition, small arms, and other equipment related to combat. In short, it had already been a damned long morning.
Cartwright had announced over the comms that Kalimura’s squad was finished with the equipment gathering. That meant once he and Lyke finished stowing the rest of the supplies already in the cargo area, Copenhaver and Murdock would bring in more for them to go through.
While they scanned the crates, looked through the inventories to double-check the contents, and finally stowed them, Dickerson had started to get uneasy. He was looking at provisions for a long trip, a long stay, and a long journey home. Moreover, it appeared that S&R Black was headed for combat in a big way. Training mission, my ass, he thought. He hadn’t said anything to Lyke because he didn’t want to spook him. The man had never had a live round fired at him, although he was perfect in the z-g combat simulations. But all that training meant nothing if you froze. He wondered if Lyke or the others who had never experienced combat believed the official story.
I hope so, he thought to himself. Or Captain Dunn is going to have an entire ship filled with marines doubting his every word.
He’d considered telling Gunny his suspicions, but decided it was a bad risk. Cartwright would no doubt bristle and yell at him, maybe even take him to a private area and explain how “Lance corporals in this Marine Corps know better than to second-guess or question the orders they’re given!” Yeah, he didn’t need Cartwright taking him to the proverbial woodshed. Worse, if Taulbee heard he’d ask those questions, the Lieutenant might kick his ass. Dickerson grinned in spite of himself. That would be an epic fistfight.
But the load out was obviously not for training purposes. A training cruise consisted of maneuvers in z-g, vehicle and skiff flights, and usually blowing the shit out of something that just happened to be annoying the shipping lanes. Those missions d
idn’t require 20k rounds of flechette ammunition, beam batteries, all the rescue gear that Black could carry, and an armory of small arms.
Sending a fully outfitted and stocked S&R ship on a cruise was expensive as hell. Although Neptune was the largest Sol Federation military complex in the universe, every piece of gear that wasn’t produced on site had to be brought by cargo ships from Jupiter. And some of those ships had picked up the original cargo from Mars or Earth. It took months for cargo to leave Mars and arrive at Neptune, which was one of the reasons they received equipment every six standard months.
If the base was fully operational and fully staffed, those deliveries would probably happen more frequently, but SF Gov would be flat broke in no time. The mining operations on the moons of Jupiter, and now Saturn, brought in the raw materials SF Gov needed for its factories in low Earth orbit, the Martian stations, and the burgeoning market for solar capable spacecraft at the civilian shipyards floating near the asteroid belt. But delivering them all the way to Neptune was prohibitively expensive. Unless Atmo or Trans Orbital discovered a new resource cache between Uranus and Neptune, or Neptune and Pluto, he imagined Trident Station and the shipyards would remain mostly vacant and out of commission.
He shook the thoughts away. Right now, he had to focus on getting these goddamned provisions finished. He wiped another sheen of sweat from his brow. Space was cold. The hangar was cold. Inside S&R Black? It was boiling.
Nobel said they were running the last few life-support checks. Wonderful time to do it. Space temperatures ran from extreme heat to absurd cold, depending on where you were, how much of the sun’s light you received, and a whole host of other factors. The ship had to be capable of handling the multitude of environmental factors or it would quickly become a tin can filled with corpses. But this? This was ridiculous. Nobel was obviously trying to grill them like steaks.
Derelict: Marines (Derelict Saga Book 1) Page 8