Theogony 3: Terra Stands Alone (10 page)

As the last bars of the recessional music finished playing, the congregation began filing out of the ship’s chapel. All except for one, Father Zuhlsdorf saw. Calvin remained seated in the second row.

Calvin watched as the last person left the small room and then approached the chaplain where he stood waiting by the altar. “Can I help you with something?” asked Father Zuhlsdorf.

Calvin looked troubled. His eyes searched the room before finally coming to rest on the chaplain. He sighed. “I don’t know, Father, but I hope so,” he said.

Father Zuhlsdorf continued to wait patiently, allowing Calvin to get to what was bothering him in his own time.

“You’re probably aware that I’m not a big church-goer,” Calvin said finally.

“Well, I know that I haven’t seen you here many times previously,” the chaplain replied.

T
he chaplain was being charitable; Calvin knew he had
never
attended mass on the
Vella Gulf
. “I’ve been a bit troubled lately,” Calvin said, before pausing again. “It’s this whole ‘hero spirit’ thing.”

“I’ve heard the Psiclopes talking about that in the past,” Father Zuhlsdorf said. “I imagine that
being an acknowledged hero is a lot of weight to bear...if you believe in it.”

“That’s just it, Father,” said Calvin, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe. The Psiclopes are an advanced civilization; you would think that they ought to have all of this stuff figured out. They think that they can follow a spirit as it is reincarnated over and over, and that I was Zeus in a former life. And if that’s not bad enough, they’re pinning the whole
survival of the Earth on me. They think that my actions will either save or destroy the Earth...
and
they believe that it’s more likely that I will fail.”

“That
is
indeed a lot of pressure,” said Father Zuhlsdorf, “but once again, it’s only a lot of pressure if you believe it...”

Calvin looked up at the chaplain.

“...and I do not,” finished the chaplain.

“You don’t?” asked Calvin.

“Of course not,” replied the chaplain. “Their religion goes against many of the key tenets of my faith and what I believe.” He paused. “And that’s what it comes down to; it’s all a matter of faith and what you believe. What
they
believe isn’t what’s important; what’s important in your case is what
you
believe.” He paused again. “So Calvin, what do you believe?”

Calvin sighed. “I’ve thought about it a lot since we left
Earth, and I just don’t see how everything they say is possible. It sounds like the Psiclopes just make up stuff so that their people can feel good about the future. It’s a lot easier to live your life knowing that if things go badly, there’s always going to be someone that will come along to save you. In the end, I guess it really doesn’t matter. All I can do is all I can do, no more and no less, regardless of whether I am a normal human being or some ultra-powerful spirit. At the end of the day, all I can do is my best.”

“That’s all we can ever do, my son,” replied the chaplain.

“Thanks, Father,” Calvin said getting up. “That helps a lot.”

“Don’t come back with less than a dreadnought for me!” Captain Lorena Griffin joked. The commanding officer of the
battleship TSS
Terra
, Captain Griffin was in charge of the largest ship in the Terran fleet. On the
Vella Gulf’s
last mission, the Mrowry had given the Terrans the battleship, as well as the Class 6 replicator that was assembling it, rather than blow them up to keep them from falling into the claws of the Ssselipsssiss.

Although brand new and state-of-the-art,
the
Terra’s
crew was as green as any battleship crew that had ever been to the stars. There were a few Mrowry advisors that had stayed with it to help bring the
Terra’s
crew up to speed, but they were few and far between. The Mrowry were going to stay until the next ship went back to Mrowry space, whenever that was. When they volunteered, they did so knowing that they were on extended duty...an extended duty that might very well result in a life sentence. It was a tribute to the leadership of their crown prince that when Captain Yerrow had said it was important and asked for volunteers, over half of the crew had volunteered.

The
Vella Gulf
had just arrived in the Epsilon Eridani system, bringing with it the news of the attack on Earth and the
Terra’s
recall ‘at its fastest possible speed’ to aid in the Earth’s continued defense. As she gave the orders that would return the
Terra
to Earth, Captain Griffin said a silent prayer for the safe, speedy and successful return of the
Vella Gulf
, which would be continuing on in its search for aid against the Drakuls. While the
Terra
was an extremely capable ship, even with the addition of the Mrowry, its crew was still too green...far too green for what they would likely be called upon to do.

Come home soon
,
Vella Gulf
, she thought, and please bring friends.

Calvin looked around the back of the shuttle’s cargo compartment. In addition
to several large pallets of materials to be used in the ship’s replicator, they were also returning to the
Vella Gulf
from the planet with several new members for the platoon and a combat cameraman. 

“Y’all strap in back there now, y’he
ar?” said the shuttle pilot in a Southern drawl over the craft’s intercom system.

Master Chief
looked over to Calvin with a curious look on his face. “I thought a couple of the Domans were flying the shuttle,” said Master Chief. “Did someone else swap out?”

Calvin sig
hed. “No,” he said. “The two crewmen are kuji. Unfortunately, someone introduced Tex to a recording of some country comedian and told him that, with a name like Tex, he needed to have a Southern drawl.” Calvin shook his head in disgust. “If I could find out who did that,” he added, “I’d cheerfully have him shot.”

Master Chief
nodded his head toward two people sitting in the back of the shuttle by themselves. “Please tell me those two aren’t another set of twins for the platoon,” he said. “The Gordon brothers are enough for one army, much less a single platoon.”

Calvin leaned forward to see where
Master Chief was looking. “No,” Calvin said. “Those two aren’t twins; they’re cousins. They just look alike. You don’t have to worry about them in any event. They’re part of the squadron, not the platoon.” He pulled up the roster in his head. “Their names are Sean and Phil Ventura. They are the second set of cousins we got in the squadron; I said the same thing when I saw the first set.” One of them punched the other. Hard. As they watched, the second Ventura punched the first one back. If anything, it was harder than the punch he had received. “Lieutenant Park Ji-hyun, who was here training them, said they fight all the time on the ground,” Calvin said, “but apparently they make a great team when you put them in the cockpit of a space fighter together. It’s almost like they can read each other’s minds.”

“I’ve had enough of that
mind reading bullshit for a lifetime, sir,” said Master Chief. “What ever happened to keeping your thoughts to yourself?”

Calvin laughed and nodded to
the other group of Domus humanoids. “Those three are the ones coming to the platoon. Lieutenant Contreras spoke very highly of them. He said they are his star pupils.”

“I talked to
Captain Smith while we were there,” replied Master Chief. “He said that
Mister
Contreras called them ‘the Three Caballeros.’” Despite being a career SEAL, Master Chief O’Leary had never been a big fan of authority, especially ‘colorful’ authority, and Contreras was as colorful as they came. “He also said they were hard workers and would make good additions to the unit. From left to right they are Corporal Craig Cuillard, Corporal John Stump and Corporal Weldon Owens. Like most of the humanoids here seem to be doing, they all took Terran names when they signed up.”

Seeing everyone looking at them,
Corporal Cuillard said, “We are the Three Caballeros.”

“
Gluck ab!” they all yelled simultaneously.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”
Master Chief said. He looked at Calvin. “Can you
please
add Lieutenant Contreras to the list of people that need to be shot when we get back?”

“Good to see you back in the gym again, sir,” Master Chief said as Calvin walked in. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I know,” Calvin replied. “It’s good to have some time to myself so that I
can
get back into working out again.”

Calvin looked out over the gym floor where the platoon was exercis
ing. Many of the faces were still new to him. The platoon had come back from the previous mission with a
lot
of holes in its manning. Some of the holes had been because they left personnel behind as security forces and trainers on a couple of the planets they visited; others were due to the combat that had occurred there, too.

It had taken a while for the Board to meet to replace them. It hadn’t met until the end of November; by the time the results were posted, it had been the first week of December. Most of the
new recruits hadn’t even been onboard when the
Gulf
went to help defend the stargate, and it had been a scramble to get them onboard, implanted and modified before the cruiser left for Archonis.

The Psiclopes had given the Terrans a variety of upgrades
in return for the Terrans’ help in getting them back to their home planet. In addition to the implants that allowed them to download training and communicate via a mind-to-mind radio system, the
Vella Gulf’s
medibot had been qualified to do a variety of things, like making their vision sharper and their reflexes faster, as well as making them stronger and giving them better endurance. It was a standard part of coming to the platoon now. Check in, visit the medibot and get your implants and modifications.

“Checking on the newbies?” asked Night as he walked
in.

“Yeah,” said Calvin. “I’m trying to put
names to faces, but am coming up blank on a few of them.”

“Well, let
me help you,” Night said, turning to look out over the expansive gym floor. The
Vella Gulf
had originally been built by an avian race called the Eldive; they had used the room as a place to stretch their wings. It was large enough for most of the activities that the platoon needed to practice. They had even been able to put in a small pistol range.

“How about the guy on the
pistol range with Corporal Sanders?” Calvin asked. “He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.”

“He ought to look familiar,” replied Master Chief. “
His brother was in the platoon during the war. Do you remember PFC Trevor Hall? That’s Corporal Patrick Hall. He’s Mad Dog’s brother.”

“Is he as good a soldier as Mad Dog?” asked Calvin. “I didn’t get to know him very well, but he seemed like a good guy.”

“Yes and no,” hedged Master Chief.

“What’s that mean?”
Calvin asked with a laugh. The soldiers on the pistol range put down their weapons and pressed the buttons at their stations that would bring their targets back to them.

“Well, he’s got the eyes of an eagle and the reflexes of a Mrowry,” said Master Chief. “Also, his personnel reports indicate that he was an
excellent pilot and an expert with edged weapons, even
before
he got implanted.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Calvin looking over Corporal Hall’s shoulder
as he pulled his target off the line. The target was almost new, with only a few holes in the outer rings.

“It doesn’t matter what type of ranged weapon you give him,” replied Master Chief. “He can’t hit the broadside of a barn. It’s a good thing he’s an expert with bladed weapons; I hear that he’s the worst shot in all of Africa.”

“Hey! I’m working on it, Master Chief!” Corporal Hall exclaimed.

Master Chief
looked pointedly at his target, a look of utter disdain on his face. “Keep working,” he said.

“I think you already met the new Ground Force Leader,
Master Gunnery Sergeant Joan Kinkead, right?” asked Night as the group moved away from the pistol range. The platoon was broken down into two ‘forces,’ a Ground Force and a Space Force. Although both concentrated in their area of expertise, they also cross-trained in the other area so that they would be ready for anything.

“Yeah, I met her
a few days ago when she checked in,” replied Calvin. “I told her that we get all of the hard missions, and she just laughed. Her comment was, ‘Try being a Marine Corps drill sergeant while raising eight kids. That’s hard. This shit’s easy.’”

Master Chief laughed. “That sounds like her,” he said. “I knew her from before; our paths crossed a couple of times. The person
who she’s talking to is the new Squad ‘B’ Leader, Staff Sergeant Michael Burke. I don’t know him, but he seems like a good leader.”

The conversation was interrupted by a tremendous noise from the firing range
behind them. A cyborg had come in and stood at the range with one foot behind him as a brace. The eight-foot tall half-man/half-machine had old-fashioned pistols in both hands and was firing them both simultaneously. The pistols looked bigger than normal and sounded like cannons going off. Each also had an extended magazine that looked like it could hold about 50 rounds. The speed at which he fired them made it seem like they were automatic machine pistols, even though Calvin could see his fingers working the triggers. He finished and brought the target back. Unlike Corporal Hall’s, the entire black part at the center had been shot out, leaving a hole in the center of the target.

“Nice shooting, Staff Sergeant Dantone,” Calvin said. Also known as ‘The Wall,’ Staff Sergeant Dantone had been mauled by an extra-terrestrial (ET)
during their previous mission. The medibot had not been able to save anything except his brain and some of his spinal cord, so it had turned him into a cyborg, encasing the brain in a robot body.  The cyborg turned around and Calvin could see that he looked very different from the last time Calvin had seen him. The red-haired wig that he was wearing was especially noticeable.

“Thank you sir,” said the cyborg, “but I
’m not The Wall. My name is Staff Sergeant Steve Randolph. I used to be a combat engineer, specializing in demolitions; unfortunately, my partner made a mistake one day a couple of months ago. They couldn’t save most of my body, but my brain was still good. One of my doctors knew that the medibot on the moon could do a cyborg conversion, and they offered it to me. With a choice between being a 100% disabled vet and being able to kick ass, I chose to come and kick some ET ass, sir!”

“Welcome aboard,” Calvin said.

“Thank you sir,” the cyborg said.

“What are you shooting there?” Calvin asked.

The cyborg handed one over to Calvin so that he could see it. “It’s a modified Israeli .50 caliber Desert Eagle. I never had the strength to one-hand it effectively before.” He smiled. “Now I do.”

Calvin could see what he meant. The pistol was huge. He chuckled.
“You’ll fit in just fine, I think,” he said, handing the pistol back to the cyborg. “We’re big fans of overkill here.” The cyborg turned back to the range and began refilling his magazines.

“Oh, there’s The Wall,” Calvin said, looking around the room. The other cyborg was standing to the side of one of the practice areas with his right arm in the air while someone Calvin didn’t re
cognize worked on some part of his mechanical body. The cameraman that they had picked up on Domus was standing nearby taking photos. “Who’s the guy working on him?” Calvin asked. “He seems a bit...older...than the rest of the group.”

“He
is
a bit older,” Master Chief replied. “He started out in Grey’s Scouts in Rhodesia when he was younger, but he’s still in great shape. He’s one of those ‘jack of all trades’ kind of guys that every unit needs. He’s also the best cyborg mechanic there is going. When he got out of the military, he went into robotics and now has about a million degrees in robotics and that ‘cyber’ word that means robotics.”

“Cybernetics
?” asked Calvin.

“Yeah,” replied Master Chief, “that thing. With two cyborgs in the unit now, I’m glad we got him. I
f they break, hopefully he can fix them. His name is Sergeant Mark Hopper. He goes by the name ‘Hoppy.’”

“Someone went way out on a limb for that call sign,” Calvin
noted.

Master Chief shrugged, “He said that’s what he’s always been called, even before he got into the army. I guess
his friends weren’t very imaginative.” He looked at the cameraman. “Was the photographer your idea? Not getting enough TV time?”

“No,”
replied Calvin. “I’ve had all of the publicity I need for this lifetime and several more. His name is Bob Jones; he goes by the nickname ‘Danger.’ I didn’t know we were getting him until we were on Domus. There was a combat cameraman doing a show on the new members of the Terran Republic, and the Domans hired him to do a ‘real Terran news show’ on the war.

“
Wonderful,” grumped Master Chief. “We obviously didn’t have enough distractions already, what with cyborgs, baby dinosaurs and talking cats walking around. We needed to have a movie camera for all the boys and girls to preen for, too. Just fucking wonderful.”

Night cleared his throat. “If Master Chief is done, you can also see the
two new medics we got working out with swords over on the other mat. The woman is Paige Julia Lawrence, and the man is Ray Jones.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, that makes three people named Jones,” replied Night. “This one is easy to remember; he goes by ‘Doc.’ Both he and Lawrence had prior careers they gave up when the Drakuls showed up. Lawrence had been working on biowarfare defense, doing some sort of DNA sequencing shit that’s way over my head. Jones was working with SWAT, but was also a prior Marine corpsman. Both have some interesting side skills.”

“Cool,” said Calvin.

“And that just leaves the three corporals over at the bench press that you already met,” said Master Chief, “Corporals Stump, Cuillard and Owens. Cuillard is the one working out on the bench.”

“Don’t you mean
‘the Three Caballeros’?” asked Calvin.

Master Chief growled. “Sir,
please don’t start that shit, too; it only gives them big heads.”

As Calvin looked over, he saw that Cuillard was doing presses with 225 pounds, and the other two were counting. With a shock he realized that they were in the 90s.

“94...95...96...97...98...99...100.” The man set the weights down. He didn’t seem fazed or tired in the slightest. Corporal Owens took his place and began pumping out the repetitions.

“Not bad,” said Calvin. “Obviously they got some pretty good endurance mod
ifications from the medibot.”

“They ran out of something they needed to
do the bio-modifications on Domus,” said Master Chief. “Those three got their implants but didn’t get their mods; they get them next week.”

“Really?” asked Calvin. “Holy
crap!
”

“Yeah,” agreed Night. “They’re brutes.”