02. Firefights last longer in the vids

“What does that have to do with anything?” Liefsdottir had better be good at his job.

“You said you knocked?”

“Well, yeah? How else am I supposed to let you know I was at the hatch?”

“You knocked on a door, to make a sound, to alert me, while in a vacuum. Do you not see the issue?”

“Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Marine, did you have vacuum training?” I hope so, please let it be so… or would that make it worse?

“Of course, I have.” A proud tone was in his voice.

“And what did they tell you in day two of vacuum?”

“Nothing I can recall. I remember that at first, we couldn’t hear the Gunny on account that there’s no air for the sound waves to move through when you’re in a vacuum.” So, he knows what the issue is, now let us see if he connects the dots.

“Okay, so why would you assume I can hear knocking?”

“Easy, Ma’am, the knock is transferred through metal, not through the air like when someone is shoutin’.” Well, there’s the logic at least.

“All noise has to travel through something that allows for wavelength transmission.”

Silence again for another fifteen seconds or so.

“Ma’am, I’m at the hatch, can you let me in?”

With a shake of my head, I popped the hatch for him.

“Any eyes on the rest of Epsilon?” I asked him. I could see them all around the corner on my minimap, now that I wasn’t distracted by setting up the command center. I was curious about what Seethers had sent over. “Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

PFC Liefsdottir unhooked the box from his back. He was currently equipped in a “Long Haul” exoskeleton, allowing him faster movement than being just in armor. The exo was configured with spinal and leg braces and was considered a “half suit.” For the techs and engineers on this op, most were equipped similarly.

“Here’s your Gremlins, Ma’am.” He dropped the cargo container which cracked open when he dropped it. Spare ammo boxes, magazines, hull patching kits, and medkits were clearly visible.

“Take it over to the command pod.” At least LCpl Seethers gave him potentially useful equipment. I switched over to a private channel.

“Seethers, we’re going to need to have a talk about hazing on missions when we get back.” I switched over to the team channel.

“Okay, Epsilon, the rest of you can come on in whenever you’re ready.” I watched the hallway as the rest of the team assigned to me filed in from around the corner down the passageway. I switched over to squad leaders.

“Just because we have been practicing assaults of this nature does NOT mean you can slack. Give me a status.”

The reports started coming in. No one had seen any aliens yet, and all compartments were currently open with few exceptions.

-I have system access-

Tell me what is happening.

-All beings on board seem to have stepped out.-

Har har. Tell me what is really going on.

-That is. Thanks to the language translations provided by Observer, it appears that they all shuffled towards the hangar bays, and then turned off the EM field, the entire ship has no atmosphere, and al reserves were also discharged into space.-

Are there any clues as to why?

: Perhaps the vessels that are connected have the answer? :

“Who’s closest to the ships? I want to make contact with them. Non-violently if possible!”

-That appears to be Zeta and Phi for Hauler 1. Kappa for Hauler 2m with Rho a close second.-

“Ma’am, I think that’s us on Rho.” Sergeant Chandler called in.

“Chandler, take your squad and hook up with Kappa then contact Hauler 2. Do not engage unless fired upon.”

“Understood.” A similar call happened for the other Hauler.

“Ma’am, we have systems access. Your Skeleton Key worked like a charm.” Liefsdottir said over the local channel.

“Don’t thank me, thank Neith. He wove the data patterns together.” I finished making another set of scans, ensure that everything in this compartment was plugged up securely.

“Okay, Epsilon, we’re moving out in two. We need to get to and secure the computer data cores.” I double checked my equipment to ensure I had my full kit. “Let’s move.”

I had yet to learn the names of all the Marines under my care, so I had to cheat.

Neith, who am I babysitting today?

-Lebowski thought you could use a pick me up and sent the “greenies” to you. With the exception Liefsdottir, you haven’t met any of them yet.- Neith projected the records of my team into the HUD on my visor.

­-First, there is PFC Jones. Rated fifteenth in his company on the gunnery range.- The file scrolled to the next team member. -Then there is Private Hernandez. Gifted in his rate. Last, we have Lance Corporal Dubois. Nothing of note in her file.-

Wait, did I just read that they’re all in the fucking band? Did Lebowski stick me with the band nerds? Damn it.

­­-Officially, no. Unofficially, yes. They were in the band aboard their Arks.-

Who isn’t from 5? I wasn’t paying attention

: Everyone except Liefsdottir.:

-As I was just about to say.-

Okay. New friends.

They were with you during the raiding of the two Escort ships. They were injured but survived.-

During our rescue operation for Ark-11, things went south as we stormed the bridge of the second Escort ship that was in the process of trying to raid it. As we assaulted the bridge, their commanders (some sort of giant flatworm with a half dozen wings) hit both platoons with some type of psychic attack that took out our ability to connect with the traditional senses. Fortunately, I had my helpers around to connect with my targeting systems on my rifle and tell me when I was clear to fire. Unfortunately, the rest of everyone else did not. Most of the platoons sent were shot, and we lost about 1/5, and a total of ¾ were too injured to continue combat.

“Jones, you and Dubois are on point. Liefsdottir, you and Hernandez are taking the rear. Here’s the quickest path.” Sending the data pulse to the four of them with a route marker, we made our way to an inconspicuous room three decks below us.

Unlike our ships, their decks were 10m clearance between deck and ceiling, with about 2m of plating between them, probably used for the conduit runs for power systems. Their cabling was made from the same crystalline structure that we were now used for our data and electrical runs, batteries, computing cores, capacitors and the magazines for our energy weapons. In fact, the reroute I had to do on my command pod involved one of these small crystals of energy.

“It looks like it will be a clear walk, but don’t get sloppy.” We had just started our walk when I saw their rifles start to waver from “at the ready.”

“MAN DOWN, MAN DOWN! GET ME A MEDIC!” So much for “cleared out.” I caught the triangulated signal from the drop pods, a small feature that ended up as a bonus after the fact. It looked like it was coming from Hauler 1.

“Fire Team Zeta, this is Epsilon, we are en route. Give me a status, Phi.” I switched over to the command channel. “Rho and Kappa give me a status. Everyone else, how long will it take you to make it to Kappa Zeta and Phi, I need some ETAs?”

My private channel clicked.

“Hey, boss, I’m almost to them.” It was Petty Officer Torres, a Corpsman that had ended up on my side of things when we got dumped on the rock, we call home. She and I got off to a rocky start, with me phasing into one of her teammates and being an indirect cause of death for him. “I sent two other Corpsman Hauler 2, and I have Wilson with me.” That left the last two corpsmen we brought with us on the other fire teams.

“Thank you. Let me know the status when you get there.”

“Will do, Commander.”

The command channel clicked over. I gave a silent thanks to Neith for handling the switching as the comm requests were popping in.

“Ma’am, I don’t even know where to begin.” It was Zetas point man, Lance Corporal Weng.

“Talk to me, Weng, I have medics on their way to you. What’s the status?”

“They’re dead, ma’am.”

“Who’s dead? I need more info.”

“The crew of the Ark. They’re dead!”

That didn’t make a lick of sense. Sure, we had been chasing after the crew of Ark-9 all this time, trying to find a way to rescue our fellow humans, but those haulers were incapable of fitting the sheer quantity of humans in them. Torres, fortunately, cut into the channel.

“Ma’am, we have a dozen humans that have been shot. Looks like they attacked first, but I’m not an investigator.”

So, puzzle time? It wouldn’t surprise me if they were turned into puppets. That was a side effect of the original Neural Networks that all adult humans had. The initial implant happened our senior year of secondary education before we were eligible to enter University level courses. I got mine when I was 14.

Neith, set up a sensory pull for Zeta once we are able. I want to see exactly what happened.

-Will do. Would you like for me to gather the data on our way back, or immediately?-

Now is fine.

“We’re almost there.”

“Commander!” My HUD informed me that it was Tyson from Rho calling in. “We’re under fire. They look human!”’ Shit.

“Disable if possible, eliminate if necessary. Zeta says the same thing. Have any more news?”

“There’s something huge with them?” It’s about 20 feet long, and it looks like a lobster fucked a snake that was already half scorpion!”

“Claws and a stinger?”

“Yeah! What the fuck? It just sliced a ballistics shield in…” the comms cut out.

“Kappa, do you read? Can you give me a status? I lost contact with Rho!”

“Can’t really talk Ma’am, killing stuff! Some weird alien just smashed them.” After a brief pause of just a few seconds, the voice came back. “It’s down. Had to use incendiaries on it. Science boys are going to be pissed, but it was us or it. I have a half dozen human combatants that are not us. Orders?”

“Ensure they are disabled, Corpsman are on their ways. What’s the status of Hauler 2?”

“Secured, Ma’am. I think. I’ll send the fire team once we’ve secured the prisoners. The airlock hatch is open, and I can see past and into it.” Firefights are a lot shorter than the entertainment vids would have you think. Even more so when one or both sides has no cover.

When we arrived at the airlock for Hauler 1, it looked like what happened at Hauler 2. One of the snake things ended up with a half dozen clips worth of DU rounds in it, and we had secured the humans that were helping it.

That was the only opposition we encountered, but it was enough. The Haulers were trophies for a short fight. Part of our job as Team Epsilon was to make sure that there was no tracking us once wee commandeered the ships and took them back to the staging point.

We recovered just over 800 people treated as cargo with this mission and only had to face a couple dozen opposition. Now to find the records as to where everyone else was offloaded.