Alien Enigma (11 page)

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Authors: Darrell Bain,Tony Teora

Tags: #Science Fiction

BOOK: Alien Enigma
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***

"How did your troops take the news, Steel?" Keane asked Major Rambling. They were having coffee in the Captain's Day Cabin and as he had been promised, there was plenty of room, much more than he had expected or thought he would ever be able to use effectively. When he was alone there it seemed even larger.

"They're marines, sir. They expect missions to be hairy-assed bitches. Whatever we run into, if it's a marine problem, they'll handle it if it's possible to do so. If not, they'll do it anyway or die trying."

Keane arched his eyebrows.

"Sir, that might sound like conceited arrogance, but it's not." He leaned forward in his chair. "Completing their mission is what I expect of them and that's what they expect of themselves. That attitude is even more imbued in this group because most of them have at least some combat time. The Commandant also purposely loaded us up with the best young officers and NCOs available who were in the system, or were scheduled to be before launch. When I say best, that includes not only the best warriors but the most intelligent ones and best educated ones we could find."

"I'm glad to hear the Marine Commandant took this mission as seriously as I and my superiors did, Steel. A successful outcome could, and probably will, effect a paradigm shift in our attitudes toward deep space, especially if we get our hands on some alien technology. Or aliens themselves. Damn it, that city appears to be just sitting there, surrounded by jungle and yet not invaded by it. Something or someone is keeping it clean and functional, or at least we hope it's still that way." Keane sipped at his coffee. It was his duty to infuse the crew, marines and navy both, with the importance of the mission. In the case of the marines he could see there wasn't much for him to do. The attitude was already inherent in the troops. However ...

"Since you seem to have the morale and attitude of your marines well in hand, I've got a bit of extra intelligence for you, Steel."

"What's that, sir?"

"Just before we left, the nature of our mission leaked. I don't know whether the leak will cause another nation, or possibly more than one, to try outmaneuvering us and attempting to solve the enigma first or not. Just in case, though, you should bear in mind the type of troop contingent the Chinese and Brazilian navies carry on their ships. You needn't worry about whether the
Doc Travis
can take care of itself. It can, I assure you. If it comes to combat on the ground though, you need to know what you'll be up against. I'm sure you're already aware of how each nation arms their infantry but you're welcome to access the navy's intelligence sources concerning their armed accessories. The better prepared we are, the less chance for Murphy to rear his ugly little fucking head."

Rambling chuckled. Keane noted how the disappearing vertical frown lines between his brows when he smiled momentarily changed his appearance.

"I can always do without Murphy. The miserable little bastard wouldn't stay on Earth, would he?"

"Afraid not. He's alive and well in space. That's really all I wanted to see you about. I've told Chief Mura to give you the codes when you want to avail yourself of what intelligence we have."

"Thank you, sir. I'll get started on that very soon."

Keane waved a hand negligently at the thanks. "There's one more thing. This is the first of our ships to carry shuttles specifically designed for marine assault teams or platoons. I'm sorry your men didn't get a chance to train with them but I've got a truly wizard electronics officer, Lt. Senior Grade Fred Jergens. One of the many duties I've assigned him is to work up some simulations for use of the shuttles. Think that might help?"

"Marines prefer hands on training but it certainly can't hurt, sir! Thank you again. Are they ready?"

"He hasn't said so, but he hasn't reported to me that they're finished so probably not. I feel like I'm remiss in not having put you two together before now, but as you know we've all been rushed. Why don't you look him up when you leave here and you two talk business?" He glanced up at the chronometer. "You can probably catch him in the process of getting ready for bed right about now."

"Murphy is indeed alive and well, Captain. I'll com him as soon as I leave here."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," Keane said, eyes twinkling. "Before you go, I should tell you there's a bit of debate on whether or not anyone else has worked up anything like our assault shuttles. If I were betting I'd say they have at least a couple of helicopters or maglev craft for each ship. Final analysis? Our troops are better armed and trained and we have the advantage with the assault shuttles, especially the way they can be stealthed. Those are dandy little vehicles." He laughed. "Did I say little? Those four could carry all of your battalion and basic combat load in a pinch. Normal load is seventy five to a hundred troops with weapons.

"
Doc Travis
can back you up with heavy lasers, plasma pulse cannon, and heavy rail guns. If worst comes to worst, we carry a variety of nukes but that's classified. No one but your XO is to know." Keane thought of pouring more coffee but he had other things to do and didn't want to refill his cup without offering the marine more. "I wish I could say we can handle anything we come up against but ...well, the last Wannstead ship had been upgraded, too. Not nearly to the extent of
Doc Travis
but much better than survey ships. It didn't come back, either."

Major Rambling gave a very tiny shrug. "I suppose we'll just have to be careful and play it by ear, sir."

"That's what I intend to do."

***

"Close to six months just to get there? Man, this is gonna be a long fucking trip, ain't it?" Dan Bullet said to Barbara Zembra.

She glanced at him as they threaded their way through the bodies of other marines, some going their way while others pushed against the tide in the other direction as the navy watch shifts changed. "Yeah, let's get out of this crowd so we can hear."

"Where to, Scooby doo?"

"Whose room's closest? I still haven't figured this ship out. Need a GPS."

"Your place, I think," Bullet said.

"Good, come on then, follow me."

A few minutes later they passed the last open hatch and into enlisted quarters. With such long tours aboard ship even the lowest ranking persons had what was called a 'stateroom', although in reality the ones furnished to lower grade enlisted personnel might have served better as broom closets. Barbara's room was even smaller than his. There was a bed latched up against one bulkhead, next to a tiny head, sink, commode and shower that were jammed into a space so small it made movement a matter of careful attention in order to prevent bumps and bruises. There was also a little work or entertainment alcove supplied with two chairs. One of them was latched out of the way. Barbara pulled it down.

"Have a seat, Bullet," she said. No one ever called him by his first name. "Welcome to my luxurious stateroom. Be careful not to get lost."

"Not much chance of that, even with your eyes closed." They had just come from a lecture given by Captain Keane on mission parameters, threat analysis and a potential time-table for the mission, among other subject matter. Like Rambling previously, he could have done it via com but he wanted every person in the ship to get a personal look at him a time or two. The lecture served as an excuse for them to do so although he had to schedule a series of them in order to get to everyone.

"Hey, what do you think of the old man?" Bullet asked.

She shrugged. "Seems to be pretty straight, but I didn't bring you here to talk about the CO." She eyed his compact body and youthful good looks. His black hair went well with his even-featured face. She gave a lop-sided grin at his look of surprise, although she thought he should have been expecting something like this by now.

"No? Then what did you bring me here for?"

Barbara smiled and pulled out a stick of lip-sweet from a pocket of her fatigue shirt and touched it lightly to her lips, giving them a pink tint. "I thought we might test the waters, so to speak, and see if we maybe want to hook up for the cruise?" She raised her brows.

"I've been wanting to ask you the same thing. Sometimes I'm a bit slow." He grinned wryly then took a step toward her. In the tiny stateroom it brought their bodies close enough to be touching. He leaned down and sampled the lip-sweet with her complete cooperation.

"Whew! I like you, too, Bullet. And I promise to be gentle." She said and began pulling off her fatigue blouse.

Other clothes fell between hungry kisses. By the time they were finished undressing he had forgotten all about her plain face. He didn't see her grin at his appreciation of her really fine-looking body. She had seen that reaction before. The rest of her more than made up for what she'd been shorted on in the looks department.

Chapter Eight: Steel

If the possibility exists of several things going wrong, the one that will go wrong is the one that will do the most damage.
-Murphy's Law Number 2

"Too bad we couldn't have gotten some training runs in with these little beauties," Platoon Sergeant Jerry Matthews said as he took a seat near the bow of one of the assault shuttles. First Sergeant Watkins was taking the eight platoon sergeants and two from headquarters, plus the heavy weapons platoon, on a tour of the shuttles.

"Yeah," Marilyn Terrance agreed. "Look how the bays open. Two on each side. Quick egress."

"Lots of fire support, too," Julio Martinez noted. He had read the specs on the shuttles several times over and grew more appreciative each time.

"That's the idea, ladies and gents," Watkins said. "We don't know what we're getting into but these should help."

"Assuming the BEMS don't have something better," Jeeta Suharto said. She tucked an errant strand of coal black hair back behind her ear.

"I don't believe in bug eyed monsters," said Martinez. "I'm more worried about running into bad-ass aliens in numbers, with lots of weapons-that kind of shit keeps me up at night."

"It doesn't matter, troops. Marines make do. If we're outgunned, we just fight better and smarter. Personally, I think we ought to prepare for the Chinks rather than some hypothetical BEM."

"Me, too," Sun Lee said, ignoring the fact that he was as Chinese as the ones being referred to. "Fucking Chinks think they own the fucking world."

"Well, I'm here to tell you they don't, but I didn't bring you here to talk politics. I wanted all the Platoon Sergeants to get a good look at the layout here because we're going to start training on entrance and exit of these boats until you can do it in your sleep. There was a lot of skull sweat put into them. See there how they designed racks for our weapons by each seat? Easy to secure them, easy to get to before debarking."

"How 'bout simulators, Top? Are there any on board?" asked Martinez.

"Yes, and we're going to be practicing with those until your eyes are red, then we'll wake the troops at all hours and see how well the sims took. I want them to be able to come from sleep to sitting in their shuttles in three minutes flat, no more."

The platoon sergeants nodded, knowing First Sergeant Watkins never kidded around about training. Besides, it would keep the troops too busy to get bored even if the shuttles were never used.

***

"Sound general quarters," Keane ordered nonchalantly in the midst of the evening meal.

Chief of Boat Thomas Berry twitched his bushy brows and smiled evilly. The key officers and non commissioned officers were all alike in that they took their meals as they liked. Only at the formal dinner at the end of the "day" could they count on sitting down to a regular meal. This time the second tier crew was in the control room. Almost instantly the warbling sound of general quarters rang throughout
Doc Travis
. In the dining hall men and women pushed plates aside and ran for duty stations. Some crammed last bits of food into their mouths as they moved hurriedly through the ship. Others piled out of beds in their staterooms and into combat fatigues with a speed gained only from practice and more practice. The theatre emptied, the day rooms were suddenly bereft of idlers, fires were turned off under kettles of cooking food and everywhere in the vast ship, loose items were swiftly secured before the men and women rushed to duty stations.

In the control room Senior Master Chief Petty Officer Berry kept time. Officers skidded into sight and made for their duty stations, and if senior, pushed the other person aside and began running check lists on the status of those sections of the ship in their care.

"Weapons manned!" Commander June Mundahan said loudly, the first to report. She grinned proudly, brightening her beautiful face, although that wasn't usually the first part of her one noticed. Her body matched or even exceeded the beauty of her facial features.

"Gravitics normal, standing by for adjustment," Lieutenant White said. Next to Mundahan, the tall blond was one of the prettiest officers, not to mention one of the most competent.

"Astrogation manned, helm manned," Lieutenant Chavez said evenly.

"Engineering, all stations manned," Lieutenant Commander Levy said.

"Environmental, damage control, manned," Lieutenant Lan Nguyen chimed in his high voice.

"Damage control manned. Engineering manned." Chief Engineer William Levy announced.

"Marine contingent ready, assault shuttles manned and ready," Major Rambling's voice came over the com.

"All stations manned and ready, sir. Standing by," Commander Dunaway confirmed.

"Four minutes, seventeen seconds, sir," COB Berry intoned from his alcove at the opposite bulkhead from the control room workstations.

Keane nodded. "Good, but not quite up to standard yet. We're getting there, though. Thank you, gentlemen and ladies. Discontinue general quarters and let the crew get back to their meal. We'll have ours while we go over any discrepancies found during the drill." He strode out of the control room and back to his day cabin. Secretly, he was pleased with how well the crew was shaping up, especially the weapons section. He had ordered Commander Mundahan to drill all three subsections incessantly until they were well-nigh perfect. He had begun thinking that the ship's armament, shielding and EW capability would be critical in carrying out his mission, more so than having the extra marines aboard, although he had no idea why he felt that way. After years of service he had learned to pay attention to hunches, though. There was one other factor he chastised himself for not thinking about before but he intended to take care of it right now.

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