by John Migacz
CHAPTER 37
Lancelead Grey came through the dimgate and hit the ground, weapon ready, body racing from adrenalin.
“It’s clear, Sir,” said the voice of Strikedag Tanner through the comm. “Area secured.” The Lancelead relaxed and stood. He had expected a firefight or droid reception committee – anything but this. The view through his faceplate showed a barren hilltop consisting of dry rocks, dust and bright sun. There wasn’t a piece of green anywhere near the area, just a few stalks of brown grass poking out between the stones. Commlead Haridep was crouching down behind a rock, her laser pointing down the hill. The Strikedag was nowhere to be seen.
“Strikedag Tanner,” Lancelead Grey said over his comm.
“Here, Sir. Right behind you,” said the Strikedag as he walked down the hill to join the Lancelead. “I did a little scouting around this hilltop. There doesn’t seem to be anyone or anything around. What does your command suit tell you?”
The Lancelead blinked up the information his command suit had been compiling since he stepped onto this world. Officers’ command battle suits were built more for information collection and analysis than the non-com suits. He read the report aloud as it appeared in his eye.
“Uh, point nine seven gees, nitrogen, uhumm,” he said skipping ahead. “A good breathable atmosphere, soil sample, uhumm.” He stopped blinking and looked at the Strikedag. “It looks like a Humanhab-One-class world, a little on the light side with no electronic emissions anywhere. Small minor lifeforms, temp about what would be expected in a desert-like area.”
The Lancelead glanced at Commlead Haridep, who was still on guard.
“Ma’am, you can be at ease and rack your weapon.”
The Commlead rose and joined the two marines. “This is not what I expected from a Kraken world. I can’t see them opening a gate to a place like this,” she said.
“This isn’t one of the worlds they have attacked, either,” said the Lancelead. “The radiation levels are normal.” He glanced at the landscape. The emptiness bothered him. He felt marooned on a desert planet – and a long, long way from home. “I wonder where the hell we are.”
“Don’t know,” said the Strikedag. “But it beats being on a Kraken dreadnought filled with battle droids,” he said, laughing. “I suggest we fill our tanks since this is breathable stuff, and after that, I’m out of ideas.”
The Commlead looked down and gestured at her suit. “Do we still need to wear these? The atmosphere is good and I’d love to get out of this thing.”
The lancelead sighed. He was beginning to like the Fleet Commlead, but she just wasn’t a marine. He felt like a babysitter. “Not for long you wouldn’t, Ma’am,” he explained. “It’s very hot, about one-point-two body temp out there, and very dry. We need to use the suits’ recycling capabilities as long as they last. Besides, we are on an unknown, possibly hostile world. Best we stay suited up.”
“You’re right, of course, Lancelead. I’d just like to get out of this suit.” She rolled her head in her helmet. “I’ll stop complaining.”
“Never stop complaining,” said the Strikedag, looking up from checking the weapons panel on his forearm. “It’s the only right we got.” He glanced around the barren area. “Either of you two officers have any ideas as to what we should do now?”
The Commlead and Lancelead Grey exchanged glances in silence. After a moment, he shrugged. “You’re the expert on alien studies, Commlead. I suggest we follow your orders.”
“Orders no, suggestions yes.” She pointed to a small patch of greenery on the horizon. “Most lifeforms on a Humanhab One need water to survive. That greenery far to the west implies the presence of water. If any higher lifeforms developed here, that’s where they would be. I suggest we head toward those hills.”
The Lancelead scanned the distance. “It’s about a two or three-day walk depending on the terrain.” He turned to the Strikedag. “You heard the Commlead, Strikedag. The heading is west. Take point if you please.”
“Aye aye, Sir.” The strikedag unracked his laser and moved down the hill.
The Lancelead watched the retreating back of the strikedag for a moment, glad that the solid marine was on his team. He gestured to the Commlead. “After you, Ma’am, and please keep your interval.”
She nodded. “I hope this stroll is less eventful than the last one you took me on, Lancelead.”
“So do I, Ma’am,” he said, unracking his laser, “so do I.”
They moved down the dusty hill into the distance.