The Infinity Brigade #1 Stone Cold Page 6

  As the last of my thrusters fired my feet hit the slide of the slope. Understand, because of all the dust that I deliberately kicked up I couldn’t see a damn thing. I slid for a few meters and I was just beginning to think that I might actually be able to make this work when my right foot hit a rock. The result was Sam and I began to tumble down the slope.

  If we had been wearing conventional space suits that would have been all she wrote. We would be dead. Fortunately I had anticipated this might happen so I programmed the AI in my suit to attempt to fold into as tight a ball as it could, given that my suit needed to fold over Sam’s suit as well.

  If Sam hadn’t disabled his AI we could have tucked ourselves into two balls not unlike two divers trying to do a cannon ball splash. On the other hand, if Sam hadn’t disabled his AI we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

  After what seemed like an eternity of rolling and bouncing down the Selenean slope my suit helmet hit what I could only characterize as a boulder. The force of the impact was numbing. Half the systems in my Stark failed outright and the rest began to issue warnings. The noise of the alarms threatened to drown out the noise of my suit banging repeatedly against the rocks and McDullis’ suit.

  Suddenly I hit another massive outcropping of… something-harder-than-I-was. I went flying. The tether between myself and Sam grew taught and then snapped. When I had actually let go of Sam is anybody’s guess. I was too busy dealing with a cracked visor that was leaking air and, what I’m pretty sure, had the makings of a bad concussion.

  Normally I would have ordered the suit’s AI to flood the cracked faceplate with nanites that would have quickly sealed the breach. There were however two problems. First my suit’s AI was now offline and second, my head was so woozy… I was pretty much offline. I struggled to do the best I could with the three and a half neurons that were still functioning within my brain. I grabbed a mouthful of water from my sipping straw and spit it into my helmet.

  Now spitting water into one’s helmet in a low-G environment is not recommended. It’s a good way to aspirate said water and drown yourself. I go back to the three and a half functioning neurons as my defense. The cracks in my helmet let air escape. That escaping air drew the water droplets with it. As they hit the cracks they filled the gaps and froze. This worked only because the Mark Two Stark suit had an external solar shade for its visor that was designed to flex rather than break. This meant the faceplate itself was still in the shade and thus could freeze the water droplets escaping through the cracks.

  At some point during my wild tumble down slope my suit’s left leg got caught in a crevasse. This had the effect of dissipating a tremendous amount of kinetic energy. Unfortunately that energy expended itself in shattering the mechanism and coincidently my leg. Somehow, even with the suit’s AI offline the suit was smart enough to inflate the emergency seals in that leg. This did three things for me.

  First it prevented the rest of my dwindling air supply from escaping. Second, it kept me from bleeding out. Third, it caused so much pain, I finally passed out.

  ***

  The first thing I felt when I woke up was elation. I woke up! About midway down the Selenean Summit I was pretty sure waking up was not going to be in the cards. The next thing I felt was absolutely nothing. Nothing as in ‘nothing’ nothing. I had no feeling anywhere. In my limited medical experience this was not a good sign.

  I had grown up in a family that really didn’t believe much in church and God and all that stuff. That said, I had always pretty much accepted that there was a God. The minute you start talking about eleven or more dimensions, the Physics involved kind of becomes a compelling argument for something outside of time-space as we know it that is an uncaused-causer… God if you will.

  Now I don’t think about God all that often. I’m not the religious type. That said, I was thinking about God now. Was I in whatever passed for heaven? I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t feel anything. I just was. My elation at waking up was starting to transform into abject terror.

  Slowly things began to change. Light and sound began to creep into my consciousness. In a few moments I was making out single words and then complete sentences. Slowly the lights I was seeing resolved into images.

  A petite red-headed woman with Commodore rank insignia was leaning over me. I knew the face but I could not place it. I was struggling to move but I still could not feel anything below my neck. It was actually a startling revelation that I could feel my face.

  I tried to talk but my mouth was bone dry. The Commodore smiled… good Lord there was most certainly a God! What a smile that was. She held a small cup with a straw to my lips. I sipped just enough to wet my lips.

  “Sam… Recruit McDullis… is…” I really had to struggle to get the words out.

  The Commodore spoke. I knew instantly who this was. No one alive could fail to recognize that voice. This was Commodore Cat Kimbridge!

  “Don’t worry about your friend. He had some nasty burns but they are taken care of. Because of you he practically walked away from this with little more than a really bad sunburn. You on the other hand had us worried.”

  At this point my field of vision had expanded and I could see there was a doctor and at least two nurses working on me. The doctor had what had to be the largest syringe I had ever seen filled with a silver liquid I knew to be nanites. He move the needle out of my field of view. When the syringe came back into view it was empty.

  “Sir, where am…”

  Commodore Kimbridge nodded to the doctor and then turned back to me.

  “You are onboard the GCP Yorktown. In her medical bay to be precise. We received your ‘Any Station’ broadcast as we were entering lunar orbit. As it happened I was on a shuttle heading to Lunar One when we saw your dust cloud… that was ingenious by the way – firing your thrusters to kick up as much dust as possible. It probably saved your life because we were able to get to you within seconds.”

  I was feeling stronger by the minute. “Thank you Commodore.” It felt lame. I should have been able to say more but what do you say to a living legend?

  The Commodore gave me another one of those butter-melting smiles and winked. Cat Kimbridge… THE Cat Kimbridge… winked at me! Did I mention my renewed belief in a loving God?

  “As soon as you’ve had a few hours to recover I’ll be dropping you and Recruit McDullis off at New Parris Island. Keep your head on your shoulders… I’m going to be watching you.

  With that she got up and left. I would not see Cat Kimbridge again for many years but I would remember this first meeting until the day I died.

  ***

  Arriving back at New Parris Island I didn’t know what to expect. Sam McDullis rode the shuttle from the GCP Yorktown with me. Aside from the pilot we were the only ones on the shuttle.

  Physically, Sam looked fine. His burn injuries had been easy to heal. Unfortunately Sam’s problems went well beyond the physical and I think he knew it. He thanked me for coming to get him but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. I suspect a part of him had wished I had abandoned him to die.

  When we arrived at Parris Island, Senior Drill Sergeant Harris and Drill Sergeant Thomas met us as we marched down the ramp.

  “ATTENTION!” Harris barked.

  Immediately I assumed the proper position, as did Sam.

  “Recruit McDullis you are hereby discharged from Marine Training. You are being given a medical separation. You will not be eligible to serve in any of the armed forces. This is not a reflection of you or your ability to contribute to society. It is an acknowledgment that you are not emotionally suited to this life.”

  Sergeant Harris walked over to Sam and stood in front of him. When he spoke again it was in a much gentler tone.

  “Son, some men… fine men… are just not meant to be soldiers. I’ve seen your aptitude scores… there is a lot you can do. This,” he waved a hand at the base, “is just not one of them. Get your gear together. Drill Sergean
t Thomas will out-process you and we will get you on your way.”

  The look of relief on Sam’s face said all that needed saying. He saluted the drill and turned to me and offered a second salute. I saw the salute out of the side of my eye. Not sure what to do as I was still at attention, I saluted while facing forward.

  Senior Drill Sergeant Harris walked back over to my position. He stared directly into my face while I stood absolutely still. In a few moments, when Sam and Sergeant Thomas were gone, Harris spoke.

  “You are either the smartest, the dumbest or the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen. You do realize you should be dead right now yes?”

  I started to answer but he yelled “SHUTUP! I’m speaking… and when I’m speaking you listen. Am I clear recruit?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  “NOW YOU CAN SPEAK!”

  “Yes Senior Drill Sergeant!”

  Harris spent the next several minutes staring into my face… daring me to blink. I did not.

  “You ignored an order from me. You disabled your comms so I could not remotely control your very expensive Mark Two Tactical Combat Armor. Armor which you destroyed. You damn near got yourself killed. Do you have any idea how much paperwork I would have to go through if you had actually managed to get yourself killed?”

  I wisely kept my mouth shut… sensing this was one of those times the Drill did not actually want me to respond.

  “I would be completely within my rights to kick your sorry butt all the way back to that ghetto you called home before you got here.” Harris shook his head. It was obvious that he was exasperated.

  “I had a flag officer call me up and talk to me about you. Commodore Catherine Kimbridge no less. It seems she was impressed with your initiative and ability to think on your feet. So no I will not be kicking you out today… You are demoted to Private. If you ever pull a stunt like that again you will wish your mommy never met your daddy! AM I CLEAR?”

  “YES DRILL SERGEANT!”

  “Good,” Senior Drill Sergeant Harris said calmly. “Officially, that is what I HAD to say. Unofficially, what you did honors the best traditions of the Marines and if you can avoid letting it go to your head it is my belief that you will make one hell of a Marine. DISMISSED!”

  Chapter 8: Boot Camp – Destination Mars

  The next three weeks were rough. The Drills needed everybody to know that my actions, specifically the disobeying orders part, was not to be tolerated. The fact that there had been a positive outcome was really beside the point. I understood and accepted the reasoning… that didn’t make my life any easier. A provisional reprimand had been entered into my record along with a provisional commendation. Which one remained on my record would depend on me and my actions during the rest of my training… no pressure.

  The bottom line was simple. If there was a crap detail or duty to be performed… it was mine by default. JJ was promoted to Ensign. That lasted about a week. JJ’s sense of humor is an acquired taste and apparently it was not one the senior Drill had obtained. Personally I think hacking the Mess Hall’s scheduling computer to make every night ‘prime rib night’ was an inspired bit of leadership. Neither the chief cook nor the Drills agreed with that assessment.

  What none of us had realized was tampering with the programming of a computer system was a violation of JJ’s terms of parole. It turns out my friend Hammond was an accomplished pusher of bits and bytes. Sadly, he was just a little less skillful at covering his tracks.

  Ramirez was our next ensign. He lasted a bit longer but making a pass, polite though it was, at the Commandant’s eldest daughter wasn’t the wisest career move. It was nice to have company on all of my crap details. It was also nice to see the people I had promoted first had been given a chance at further leadership. I suspected their misadventures might have been an attempt on their part to stand in solidarity with me.

  Needless to say, I was surprised when Senior Drill Sergeant Harris called me to his office one evening after our final 10K run. The man had not spoken to me in the entire three weeks since the incident with Sam McDullis.

  The Senior Drill’s office was located on the upper floor of the main training building. This same building housed four training platoons and therefore had office space for four Senior Drill Sergeants. Sergeant Harris’s office had a wide, expansive reinforced window that afforded an excellent view of the training yard. Beyond the yard I could just make out the edge of the dome that protected New Parris Island from the hard vacuum of space. When I arrived his administrative assistant ushered me into his office.

  “Recruit Stone reporting as ordered Senior Drill Sergeant,” I said as I came to attention in front of his desk. The sergeant was reading something on a tablet.

  “At ease recruit,” Harris said. “I have a number of items to discuss with you.”

  I separated my feet by about a foot and a half and grasped by wrist behind my back.

  Senior Drill Sergeant Harris finished reading the tablet he was holding. Nodding to himself he picked up a stylus off his desk and signed whatever it was he was reading. He put the tablet down and looked at me.

  “I seem to be having a problem keeping your platoon’s ensign slot filled. Any ideas as to why that might be recruit?”

  “Senior Drill, this recruit has no idea why this might be so.”

  “Go ahead and guess. I’d be curious as to your thoughts on the issue.”

  “Senior Drill, the failure of your recruits to fulfill the role of ensign is undoubtedly due to the poor quality of the recruits in question… to include myself Drill Sergeant.”

  Harris laughed. “That is most assuredly true Recruit Stone. That said, I think there is more to it than that. I suspect there is some type of misguided loyalty at work here.”

  I sighed. “I suspect the Senior Drill is correct… but I assure the Drill Sergeant it is nothing I have asked for,” I added.

  “Son, you are a born leader. You go out of your way to take care of your people. They see that in you. Don’t ever apologize for your God-given gifts. That still presents me with a problem. I’m promoting you to the platoon Acting Sergeant. Who would you suggest I promote to Ensign?”

  Without hesitation I responded, “Gretchen Highmark would be an excellent candidate Senior Drill Sergeant!”

  “An interesting choice Acting Sergeant Stone. May I ask why she has your recommendation?”

  “Several reasons Senior Drill. First, although she is small, she does not know the meaning of the word ‘quit.’ Second, when we were on our first lunar bivouac she is the one who suggested our ultimate solution. She thinks well on her feet.”

  “Very well Acting Sergeant. I accept your recommendation.” He opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out two armbands with the ranks of sergeant and ensign on them. He tossed them both to me.

  “Thank you Drill Sergeant.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Serving as second in command under an officer who may very well be inferior in every way that matters will be a real test of character for you. It’s also a skill you will need to perfect.”

  He paused to look at me. It was an uncomfortable stare but I endured it.

  “Sure as shooting son, whether you go Commission or non-commissioned… Officer or Enlisted… you will, upon occasion, find yourself under the command of people less capable than yourself. You will need to learn the fine art of guiding while not being in control. Learn it well and you will do well. Fail to learn it and I don’t care how gifted you are… you will be crucified as sure as our Lord and Savior was. Am I clear?”

  “Yes Senior Drill Sergeant!”

  Drill Sergeant Harris sighed and walked over to a briefing board. “I told you there were several things we needed to discuss. This next bit will be unpleasant. We are going to Mars.”

  ***

  When I got back to the billets I discovered there was a betting pool going. It seemed there was three to one odds that I would walk back in with my Ensign butter-bar rank restored. When they
saw the three chevrons of my sergeant’s armband there was some groaning. I imagined some bank accounts had just been depleted.

  I walked up to Gretchen, came to attention and saluted her. She looked properly confused and then her eyes lit up as she realized what was happening. She didn’t seem to know what to do and did not return my salute. Somewhat awkwardly I smiled.

  “Permission to hug the Ensign,” I requested.

  “Permission granted,” she answered breathlessly.

  Gretchen was the type of Gal I might have gone after back in the days when I had time to do such mundane things as date. In point of fact, I was hoping at some later point in time she and I might find the time to explore options. The bottom line was I was very happy that she was getting a chance to try on the Officer bar. She deserved the chance. Marines where unique in this day and age in that all officers had to have spent some time in the enlisted ranks. This had not always been true and it still wasn’t true for most of the armed services.

  I handed Ensign Highmark her Acting Rank armband and called the platoon to order. Once again I saluted. This time, I was joined by twenty eight additional salutes. This time she returned the salute.

  “Ensign, if I could have a moment of your time. I have some additional orders that I received from the Senior Drill.”

  She nodded and motioned for Corporal Johnston to join us. We moved our conversation into the break room. When we were all seated on the metal benches that surrounded the weight training machines that were the only amenities in our break room, I began to share what the Senior Drill had shared with me.

  “Tomorrow a Bowman-class starship will be entering lunar orbit. It has its own Marine contingent which according to the Senior Drill we will not be interacting with. We will board the ship and remain confined to the shuttle bay for the duration. Our destination is Mars where we will begin a two week training exercise.”

  “Any discussion as to what the training exercise will entail?” Ensign Highmark asked.

  “Negative Ma’am. The Senior Drill did indicate that he will hold a pre-boarding briefing at 0400. He expects our entire platoon to be at the briefing room on time.”