Blue Star Marine Boxed Set

by James David Victor

  “I won’t let you down, sir,” Boyd said.

  Featherstone looked Boyd in the eye. “I know, Will. Assemble your squad and be ready to jump off in sixty minutes.”

  Boyd saluted. “Copy that, sir.”

  Boyd waited for Featherstone to dismiss him before turning on his heel and marching off. He hesitated as he passed the pilot’s chair, front and center of the command consoles. The usual occupant, Jim Hemel, was missing, and a new operator was in his place.

  “He’s on the recreation deck.”

  Boyd turned to Yanic Knole at the navigation console.

  “Sure he hasn’t just run off the get some more candy?” Boyd said, stepping over to Knole.

  “He’s running a holo-sim of the Raven’s slam from last season. He’s actually playing.”

  Boyd grinned. He knew Hemel was a Curveball fan, he just didn’t know he was stupid enough to try and play with the pro leagues, even in a holo-sim.

  “He’ll get crushed,” Boyd said. He looked down at the pilot, who was focused entirely on his task. He missed the pilot’s chair. In the Faction, he had been the main pilot for an old pirate, now atomized along with his ship and drifting across the system as a thin nebula.

  “You’ve done a bit of piloting, I hear,” Knole said.

  Boyd nodded.

  “Miss it?” Knole said, then his relaxed demeanor vanished and his eyes flickered past Boyd’s shoulder.

  Boyd turned to see Featherstone looking at him. Dorik at his side, grinning.

  “In your own time of course, Sergeant Boyd,” Featherstone said. “Unless you want Sergeant Dorik to take the squad.”

  “No, sir. Excuse me, sir.” Boyd shuffled backward and then turned and ran. He ran off the command deck and toward the Marine deck to the rear of the ship.

  The Resolute was a small ship, designed for special operations. She needed to be fast enough to cross the system and small enough to get out of a tight spot. She was well armored, but not built for a ship-to-ship battle. Her power came in the form of the Blue Star Marines: small teams of special operations Marines able to infiltrate and annihilate a force far larger than them. They were a surgical strike force designed to cut deep into the Faction. Now they were also tasked with recon on any Skarak signal.

  The Resolute and her company of Marines were able to go on the attack at a moment’s notice and could operate independent of Union command for weeks or even months at a time, should the operation demand it. Boyd’s undercover mission in the Faction had lasted the better part of a year and could have gone on longer if his cover hadn’t been blown.

  Boyd opened a channel as he neared the Marine deck.

  “First Squad, assemble on the Marine deck in full assault kit for mission brief.”

  Boyd ran onto the deck and stepped over to the equipment locker, a small side room that housed all the Resolute’s Blue Star Marine equipment. Boyd’s personal locker opened as he stepped up to it. He reached in and pulled out his environmental suit.

  Boyd looked at his bare locker as he stepped into his suit. First Squad was arriving and quickly lockers were being opened and suits pulled on. Boyd glanced from side to side. He was still unused to being part of a functioning squad after operating alone for so long. He noticed one Marine’s locker had holo-images of friends and family moving around. An image of a smiling mother and father. An image of a kid sister jumping across steppingstones. And an image of a sweetheart, the light blue waters of a bay back on Terra behind her.

  Boyd looked back at his own bare locker. Boyd had no one. His brother had been his only family growing up, and he was dead, killed by the leader of the Faction. He had no one. Maybe there was one person whose image he would enjoy seeing here, but she was lost, probably dead, surviving now only in his thoughts. He slammed the locker shut and marched out on to the deck, calling behind him as he went.

  “Come on, First Squad. Form up.”

  2

  Sergeant Will Boyd jumped out of the Resolute toward the asteroid three hundred meters below. The dark crust of interplanetary dust that coated the asteroid gave it a dull appearance, but the surface had been scarred by the crash landing of the Skarak ship to reveal a fresh surface of rock and metal underneath. The flecks of metal glistened, sharp crystalline edges of rock scattering light from the system’s star.

  The Skarak ship looked like a dark, slick smear on the asteroid’s already-dark surface. The rapier structures at the front of the warship were snapped, but none were bent.

  Boyd remembered the first time he had encountered a Skarak ship—a crashed ship just like this one. It had been defended by animated, lifeless bodies that had attacked Boyd with bare hands and wild eyes.

  He remembered that attack with a shiver of excitement as he advanced. His life back aboard the Resolute had so far been as dull as the asteroid’s crust. He moved in closer to the crashed ship with a rising sense of excitement, knowing the Skarak could attack at any moment.

  Touching down on the asteroid surface and throwing a small puff of dust up around his ankles, Boyd swung up his pulse rifle. The boots of First Squad touched down around him. Boyd read their bio readings on his helmet’s holographic data display. All were calm.

  The discipline of the Blue Star Marines was in stark contrast to the Faction troopers Boyd had until recently been in action with. The Faction was made up of proud, brave, and fierce individuals, but they rarely acted in a disciplined manner. The Blue Stars were calm and ready.

  “Move up.” Boyd waved the squad toward the Skarak ship. He walked on, the dust on the surface hanging around his ankles as he moved.

  The squad spread out and formed a spearhead formation with Boyd as the tip of the spear. He moved toward the ship, the sides towering high overhead. The slick black wall of the outer hull reflected no light like the glistening surface of the asteroid did. Boyd felt as if he was falling into the dark slick. His heart raced and he felt alive.

  Boyd increased the pace a notch, eager to reach the outer hull. He halted when it was just a meter ahead. He raised his hand and brought the squad to a halt. They took a knee and scanned their fields of fire for any threat.

  Stepping up to the hull, Boyd slung his pulse rifle and held out a hand in front of him. He felt his hand touch the surface, but he couldn’t see what his hand was touching. The hull appeared like a deep black surface, falling away to infinity.

  Boyd walked to his left, his right hand moving along the surface of the hull. Somewhere there had to be an entrance. The scans of the ship had revealed no breaches, but it could hardly detect the Skarak ship at all. It appeared as a void in the sensor readings, any active scans seeming to fall away.

  Boyd called out to the squad to follow. They adopted a line formation and kept pace with him as they headed toward the forward section and the broken rapiers.

  The ship had come down hard and was partially buried in the surface. The ridge of asteroid sat against the Skarak hull and had appeared to cause no damage. Boyd’s hand moved over the surface. It was at once there and not there. He pushed hard and felt the resistance, but the dark surface appeared almost to not exist. His hand moved over it without friction, like a perfectly smooth sheet of ice.

  Then his hand fell through. He looked closely, but all he could see was the same emptiness. He could reach inside. Boyd called a halt and looked at the dark void in the perfectly black hull. He directed his helmet lights at the cavity. The light fell inside but lit up nothing. Boyd ran his hand along the edge of the dark opening. He could feel a curved edge running down to the asteroid surface and up high above his head. He moved across the opening and found the other side. It had the same curve. Boyd estimated the opening was a perfect circle about twenty meters in diameter. His helmet display agreed and displayed the calculation as a green projection against the Skarak hull.

  “Drones,” Boyd ordered, waving toward the opening.

  A Marine pulled a drone off his suit’s equipment belt and launched it. The micro gravity drive fields
held it in space. It moved forward, passing Boyd at eye level.

  “Send it in,” Boyd said.

  The drone moved forward into the opening and was instantly lost to the dark.

  “Report,” Boyd said.

  “Lost contact, Sergeant,” the Marine reported. “Should I launch another?”

  Boyd took a knee and stared into the dark. He shook his head. “Negative. Hold position.” He activated the electron bayonet on the end of his pulse rifle and moved it toward the dark space before him. The blade tip came up against the hull and moved easily forward, but the fizzing white energy blade vanished. Boyd withdrew the bayonet and the blade reappeared.

  “Resolute, this is Boyd,” Boyd called. “Are you seeing this, sir?”

  Major Featherstone’s voice sounded over Boyd’s helmet communicator. “Yes, we see it, Sergeant. Our active scans show the hull to be intact; at least, we don’t detect any breach.”

  Boyd moved his bayonet inside again. Again, it disappeared and reappeared as he withdrew it.

  “I can’t see any further than the edge of the hull, but there is definitely an opening here.”

  “Send another drone,” Featherstone said. “Keep a tether on it.”

  Boyd ordered for another drone to be deployed. This one was attached to a length of fine cord before being sent forward. The drone tilted slightly as it went, the fine thread pulling it slightly off balance. The Marine let out more cord as the drone moved toward the opening, crossing the dark surface and vanishing from view.

  The cord moved alone into the dark. It was hypnotic to see the cord end abruptly.

  Then the cord was tugged violently forward and pulled the Marine off his feet. The others grabbed him and held him.

  “Just had a mighty strong tug on the chord, Sergeant,” the Blue Star reported as he got to his feet. The chord was tugged again, and the Marine and those holding him were pulled forward. Boyd watched as they were drawn toward the dark.

  “I’m going to disconnect the cord,” the Marine said.

  “No,” Boyd said immediately. “Hold it.”

  Boyd peered into the dark as the cord steadily drew the Marine toward the opening. At the last moment, Boyd cut the cord with his bayonet. The chatter that spread through the squad was quiet, but Boyd could hear the concern.

  “Hold position here,” Boyd said. “I’m going in.”

  He stepped toward the dark opening as he heard the voice of Featherstone over his helmet communicator. “Hold position, Sergeant Boyd.”

  Boyd stepped on. His pulse racing. He felt the pulse rifle in his hands. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention as he moved into the darkness.

  “Sergeant Boyd. Do you read me?” Featherstone’s voice was calm but firm.

  “Copy, sir. Read you loud and clear.” He turned and looked back at the Marines of First Squad, all holding position and looking at him.

  “Come in, Boyd. Respond.”

  “Yes, sir. I read you,” Boyd said and realized that his last message hadn’t made it out of the Skarak ship. He looked around. All was dark apart from a perfect circle showing him the Marines and the asteroid.

  All around was black. He walked away from the opening, deeper into the Skarak ship. It was as if he was adrift in utterly black space, but he could feel—not see—a surface beneath his feet. Then he spotted a small object at eye level. A micro drone. It was hanging in space. Unpowered but still able to hold position. If it had been outside the ship, the light gravity of the asteroid would have drawn it slowly down. Here, it was utterly motionless, like a still image on a holo-display.

  Boyd reached for the drone. He felt it under his fingers. At the slightest nudge, it fell away, as if into a deep well. Boyd felt disorientated. He turned around and saw First Squad outside, holding position.

  “First Squad, this is Boyd. Wave if you can hear me.”

  He watched for a moment. If any of the Blue Stars had heard him, they would have responded immediately. He took one last look around and then walked toward the circular opening only ten meters away.

  With each step forward, he saw the opening move away. His pulse quickened as did his step. He felt fear. It felt good. He ran and the circle of his squad fell further away to a small point. Then he heard the voice of the Skarak, welling up from deep within. A distant voice, half-remembered.

  Boyd fell face-down in the dust cloud on the asteroid’s surface. He felt hands grabbing him, dragging him away. Then the voice of Featherstone in his ear, shouting angrily.

  “I gave you an order, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir,” Boyd said as he struggled to find his feet and struggled to remember what had happened. “How long was I gone?”

  “A moment, that’s all,” someone replied.

  Boyd turned to the Skarak ship. The thick, dark hull gave nothing away. But Boyd felt a vibration. The dust on the asteroid quivered.

  Boyd pulled up his pulse rifle and activated the bayonet.

  “Stand to. Stand to. Make ready, Blue Stars.”

  The squad fell in line either side of Boyd, rifles coming up, all aiming at the dark circular opening in the Skarak hull.

  The first shape to emerge was a naked human, tumbling forward, falling to all fours and then up again only to be knocked to the ground by the person who came behind. Then another came and fell over those in front, only to be trampled by a wave of running, naked people.

  “Give fire.” Boyd delivered a blast of pulse rounds into the oncoming mass. A chest erupted as the pulse round hit, sending blood and guts spilling out into the low-gravity environment. The wave of bodies that followed plowed through the floating gore, and it splattered their gaping mouths and hollow eyes.

  “Fall back,” Major Featherstone ordered. “Incoming support fire.”

  Boyd hit the suit’s reverse thruster and flung himself back across the asteroid away from the Skarak ship and the herd of lifeless humans pouring out of it. A stream of spitz gun fire raked the asteroid just meters in front of Boyd and his squad. The white energy pulses slammed into the dark rock, blasting out chunks and super heating the surface with tiny points of glowing asteroid.

  The bodies of the lifeless, naked attackers were lost in a red mist and cloud of white dust. An active scan showed him the broken bodies in the cloud on his helmet display.

  Within the cloud, behind the twitching bodies, Boyd saw the Skarak soldiers advance. They came slowly, their long weapons in their insect-like arms. They stepped out of the opening in pairs and moved off to the sides in a quick, smooth motion. Boyd knew he was being surrounded.

  “Take cover. Open fire,” Boyd called out. Then he broke into a run.

  With pulse rounds flying around him, he charged the Skarak. Leaping forward under the power of his suit’s thrusters and flung himself into the nearest opponent. His electron blade aimed forward, he drove the white energy blade clean through the alien’s armor. It writhed violently before Boyd pulled the blade aside and free of the Skarak soldier, its weapon tumbling free in the low gravity.

  Colliding with the hull stopped Boyd, so he turned and fired at the next Skarak.

  “Get out of there, Sergeant,” Featherstone said.

  Boyd moved fast, firing as he went. A blast of spitz gun fire from the Resolute slammed into the ground a few meters away, the blast throwing him against the Skarak hull. He slid over the strange, dark material but managed to maintain his aim on the next Skarak soldier.

  Sudden pain in his right arm almost made him black out. He looked and saw an enemy soldier gripping his bicep and pulling him inside the ship. Another Skarak pulled his rifle away and flung it aside. Boyd saw the dark circle around him and knew he was inside.

  Pulling an electron blade from his boot and activating it with a flick of his thumb, Boyd delivered a surgical slice to the Skarak hand on his arm. The blade passed clean through. The insect-like claw still gripped tight while the rest of the Skarak scurried away. Boyd kicked out at the large, dark eyes of the Skarak
that had snatched away his rifle. The Skarak took the heavy blows and just pushed Boyd deeper into the ship. It lashed out with one of its long upper arms and flung the electron blade aside. It tumbled away and Boyd saw the white light disappear into the distance.

  The pulse pistol in his hip holster was in his hand and the round finally dispatched the second Skarak. The firefight on the asteroid was still visible through the opening but it was so distant now. Boyd felt himself falling deeper into the ship, but he was falling backward not downward. The dark space spread out in all directions. Although he was falling, he was always at the center point in a perfect sphere.

  Something bumped against his shoulder as he fell. He turned to take aim with his pistol and saw the micro drone, a trailing strand of cord hanging limply. He grabbed the drone and connected to the drive system. The drone still had power. He reactivated the drive and set his heading for the distant opening.

  No matter how fast he traveled, though, the opening never seemed to get any closer. All around was dark, not the distant dark of outer space but the immediate close dark as if he’d been buried alive. He set his pulse pistol to deliver a single bright pulse at super low velocity. The pulse built on the end of his pistol and then drifted away. As it moved, it lit up the dark space.

  Boyd found himself inside a vast sphere. Clinging to every side were dark panels lit in dark shades of green, blue, and red. Shadowy shapes drifted across the bright light before it faded—a Skarak soldier. The weapon drifting next to the body told Boyd it was dead.

  Boyd pushed the micro drone to take him to a distant light source. He could not seem to reach it; although he traveled, he could not get closer to the edge of the sphere.

  Then he was there, suddenly right next to the outer surface. It was disorienting to move and get nowhere and then suddenly be at the location. The dark lights in the curved wall were in a pattern and now he was close enough to see marking. It was Skarak writing. Skarak symbols. It made no sense to him other than it was clearly writing of some kind.