Welcome to the Marines (Corporate Marines Book 2) (22 page)

Finally, she leans forward and begins talking. There is no shouting or blame. Her voice is quiet and cold and we strain to hear what she has to say.

“During a straightforward assault on an enemy-held space station, two sections of Marines were deployed to engage and destroy. Twelve Marines deployed through the use of assault landers. By mission end there were three dead, one seriously wounded, and two with minor suit damage that would impede function over an extended period of time. The mission was completed and all enemy combatants killed and the facility secured.”

She stops and looks us over, meeting each one of our gazes and holding it for a second. Then she continues.

“That was complete shit. Your assault was sloppy and took too long. I have reviewed the logs and I saw sloppy moves that resulted in damage to the section. That sloppiness slowed you down, and in the real world where the AI was not running the simulation and the enemy was not fighting for their lives, they would have reacted differently. The aliens in the control room would know that they are already dead. They would have blown the station as soon as you started advancing. I would do that rather than be overrun and either suffocate or get gunned down and then realize that the highly secret work being carried out would be used by an alien race that may have bad intentions toward my people.”

She pauses. “You needed to shave almost thirty seconds off of your attack, as that is how long it takes to override safety interlocks and overload a reactor.”

She stands up and takes a bottled drink from the dispenser to her side. She sits back down and pops the top, taking several slow sips.

“Too many dead based on the scenario. That attack should have been faster and with no casualties. That is the standard you work to. If we had time and faster access to one of the training sites that can handle a group this large, I would run you through again. We do not have that time. We are heading back in-system to Earth and you will be shipped off to your respective duty stations. I will be personally programming several different scenarios that you can run through to improve your abilities. Granted, that will be in sim, but I hope it will help correct the flaws that exist.”

She stops talking and stands up, dropping the bottle into a recycle point on the wall and then turning to go.

Mouth speaks up. “Ma’am? How bad did we really do, and how much of what you just said is the standard ‘tear us down to make us better’ part of the training?”

Armour stops and turns back toward us. She looks at Mouth thoughtfully. “The last time I saw a group as bad as that was in an early video-game sim a very long time ago. That was bad.”

Then she turns and leaves.

We all head back to our rooms. I spend the short trip studying up on weapons and tactics and running through several low-level sims, as well as doing more than my normal daily suit maintenance.

I have to be good enough to survive and stop the enemy.

We arrive back at Earth in just over a day and take a shuttle back down again, in the cargo bay in full armour with our gear.

We take the garbage-truck ride back to base and head in.

After stripping down, we have the night off and most of us head back to our rooms to study and then get some sleep.

It was going to be an early morning.

T
he next morning we are up on time and carry out our physical fitness training routine with no problems. It feels a bit different being back at full Earth gravity, but we are okay.

During some of my recent reading on what technologies are being worked on now, there were a series of articles on gravity. Space ships can generate some artificial gravity by spinning. Everyone still wears magnetic clothing, mostly the boots to stay anchored. Some of the planets that we are looking at colonizing, though, are going to cause problems. Long-term life on Mars will have issues because the gravity is so much lower than we are used to on Earth. That can be resolved by using gravity plates. Buildings will have specially installed gravity plates so that when you are inside, you will come closer to Earth gravity. This should offset the effect in the short term.

That’s what I’m thinking about during our morning run. I am becoming smart, finally.

We get cleaned up and then eat breakfast. Before we can head off to the lab, there is a tingling as my implants receive a signal.

This had never happened before and I freeze. Then I hear a quiet voice in the back of my head. “All personnel, report to the main auditorium in ten minutes.”

I look around. Everyone else is looking around and seems nervous.

Mouth speaks up. “I guess we are full Marines now and our implants are active. Finally!” She gives a little happy yell and starts dancing around.

It’s funny, but we have to move.

I dump my plate in the cleaning tray and head off with the rest to the auditorium. The lights are on and no one is there, so we all sit down in the front two rows. There are only twelve of us. So few after the last few months.

The mad scientist walks in, followed by the same people that had come in on our first day. He immediately starts talking and I regret my decision to sit in the front row, like everyone else must. Then Armour steps forward and pushes him behind the podium. The microphone there picks up what he is saying. “Oh yes, why thank you, I appreciate the repositioning that needed to happen there. Oh my! I can hear myself, finally!”

Armour cuts him off. “Get to the point. There is not a lot of time, doctor.”

He continues. “Of course, of course.” He stops and looks at us critically. “Congratulations. You have passed all the testing and everything that we could throw at you. You are now Corporate Marines. Seven, please give them their duties.” He then stops, steps back, and nods at us before turning and walking out of the room. Everyone else leaves as well. Most nod but some don’t bother. In a minute, it is only us and Armour.

She steps over to the podium and begins talking. “You all passed. Here are your taskings. You will be out of here within the hour and heading off to your next duty station.”

She starts calling names out. I passed! I am in!

“Slate.” I almost miss my name, and I am called near the beginning. “You are deploying out to Section 8-3. Deep space.”

As we are called out, we leave. I head back to my room to check it over. There is a bag inside the door on the bed, already packed, and I look around where I had spent so much time.

I can hear the sounds of the hundreds of us moving through the facility and the droning voices of the instructors. I am already missing this place.

There is a quiet knock at my door. I open it and Mouth is standing there with a similar bag on her shoulder. She steps in and closes the door. “Gads, Slate, you move so slow. You were third out and I was seventh. I’m ready to head out. I am heading for patrol on the far side of Ipswith with a newer section while you are going to be on this side providing security.” She steps close to me and looks me in the eye, which means that I have to look down at her again. “Are you going to be okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, with a two-month trip to my new station and all the time in the world to sleep and study.”

She is still looking at me, searching for something, then she shrugs. “Okay, well, take care of yourself and let me know if you ever get leave in my area.” I swear she is faster than lightning, now having a solid hold on my head and pulling me down into a long, hard kiss. She pulls back and looks at me again.

I shake my head no and then lean forward, wrapping my arms around her and embracing her with a harder and longer kiss that goes on forever.

When we finally surface, she giggles at me and smiles. Then she grimaces. “Ahem, no attachments, Slate. Be a good Marine.”

She kisses me on the cheek and is out the door with a wave. Then she is gone.

I turn and grab my bag and head out as well. I have to go and check on my armour and gear.

I hear a ping and another voice starts speaking in the back of my head. “Turn right and head to Section D. Your armour is ready for packing, but it is being left for you to take care of.” There is another quiet ping and then the voice is gone.

I’ll need to get used to these implants.

I take off for Section D to pack my gear.

A
ll three of them are in the small conference room. Seven says it first. “This is a huge failure of the training system.”

Before either man has a chance to interject, she has already raised her hand to stall them. “I do not mean that what happened before was flawed. What has happened now has created a flaw.”

Timothy nods. “We never had more than six candidates go through the station scenario. Most of the other scenarios we have set up are meant really for two to four candidates to go through.”

Seven nods while frowning. “You do know what this means, don’t you?”

Their final member speaks up quickly. “We need a larger final testing area. Probably farther out on the back side of one of the planets.” His smile is huge. “This is excellent! We can finally turn out the number of candidates that we need for the long term.”

Timothy grins as well. “Yes!”

Seven’s sigh cuts across both men’s celebratory noise and they both stop and looked at her.

She leans forward and puts both hands on the table. “Yes, it is excellent that we have more candidates coming down the pipe. The total number of Marines will slowly increase. That is really great.” She leans back in her seat again and crosses her arms while watching both of them. “So that means we make a bigger footprint, and any alien watching knows we are advancing. When are the bad guys coming back to invade again, gentlemen?”

Timothy raises a hand as a peace gesture. “I understand what you mean. We are going to take whatever steps we can to minimize the intel we give those out there,” he waves his hand at the ceiling in a gesture of who ‘those out there’ are, “but we need to maintain hope, and we are improving. We just need to improve fast enough so that we can win when they come back.”

Seven looks down, frowning, then back up. “I know we have to do the best we can. We need to get back to work. The next crowd is going to be arriving in three days and there are a lot of files to review.”

The government bureaucrat looks at her. “You’re still worried about Slate, aren’t you?”

She shakes her head no. “I know exactly how he’ll do. He’ll be fine.”

M
y gear is packed and I have several large crates to load onto a cargo truck, but I am not up for departure for two hours so I head to the cafeteria for some food. There are a large number of cleaners and staff buzzing through the area. They are refreshing everything so it looks new again. I guess they are getting the new recruits in shortly.

As I am sitting actually enjoying a cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake, Armour comes in and walks over to me.

She sits down. “How is the burger?”

I just start talking through the mouthful. “Mmm, great, ma’am.”

She grunts at me. “I can see that.”

She is watching me carefully and, as always, I feel self-conscious of the attention. Part of growing up in the Projects.

Then she starts in on the real reason she wanted to talk to me. “Slate, you are going to deep space. To a combat unit that is in use regularly. You need to be aware. Deep space does things to people sometimes. They get a little weird. You need to stay focused and do more training than they actually ask you to. If you work harder and are as good as they are, you won’t have problems, other than some bad jokes. If you slack off, they’ll be keeping an eye on you all the time, expecting you to screw up. Don’t blow your cool and don’t do anything stupid. You need to survive and come back.”

I nod. “I understand, ma’am. We had that happen all the time in the Projects. Don’t show fear and be the best at what you do.”

She nods and gets up. “Good. Do well, Slate. Earth is going to need all of us in a few years.” Then she turns and walks away.

I finish my burger and milkshake. Everyone has gone and it feels like I am the only one left.

I get up and drop my tray in the cleaning area and head for my gear.

I have nothing to worry about. I can still hear the voices screaming, and I can still hear my little sister and dad. They aren’t screaming anymore; they are calling out for me to be safe and to keep everyone else safe too. To be good.

I know that I am not a good man. I’m just a man like everyone else, and I need to do what’s right.

I have lots of reasons to live for. I have to protect humanity. More than that, I have to survive all my tours because one day I am going to come back to Earth. I had killed four people because I went a bit nuts. But there had been six people involved. There are two more people somewhere that I have to get payback on one day.

END

Coming Soon in the Corporate Marines Series
Book 3: Star Traders. A novella

Seven is one of the rare individuals out there. The one in almost a million that could become a Marine. Her body would accept the advanced medical procedures that would enable her to sync up with armour and use the suit and systems to their full capacity.

Now she is moving out to join a section that patrols the depths of space. Her armour is brand new and pristine. All her training is in theory. When she boards the heavy freighter
Mama Pig
with her another new Marine the two face distrust and misunderstanding.

Seven is not a cold killing machine but she’ll have to become one if the ship and crew are to have any hope in surviving the trap that’s been set for them.

H
e turns to the last two personnel standing there in front of him: one man and one woman. They are both wearing skin-tight black ship suits that have a metallic look to them. Both have their hair cut in the same way; the man is blond and the woman’s hair is short enough that it is hard to say whether it’s black or very dark brown. She has a purple streak running from front to back on the right side of her head and an orange streak in the same location on the left side of her head. Both are clearly very fit, as their physiques are picked out in great detail by their ship suits. The just stand there with their ship bags on their shoulders and watch the captain and the smaller greeting party.

The captain puts an insincere smile on his face as he turns to them.

“Greetings to you both. Corporate headquarters announced the last-minute change just in time or we would not have had the pleasure of transporting two Corporate Marines to the Theta mining facility. I have had a chance to review your file with my security chief, Patroe Sveringening.” The captain gestures to the armed man at his side. “I understand that you are going out as replacements for two casualties, and I am sorry that had to happen, as I wish we could all get along. After all, space is vast and there are so few living beings.”

The two Marines just watch the captain and have blank expressions as they watch him, unblinking. The absolute lack of expression seems to throw the captain off his planned speech and he hurries on.

“The chief will take you around and show you how you can fit into shipboard activities. He will also let you know what else is going on shipboard and when drills are to be held.” He pauses. “I know you are highly trained and ready to do whatever needs to be done for the Corporation. Realize that we are a bulk hauler that acts as a personnel transport as needed. We do not see action, nor are we likely to, so at all times we will follow shipboard regulations.”

The female Marine looks at the security chief and then the captain before asking the most important question to the two Marines. “Where is our armor and the rest of our gear?”

The captain maintains his smile as he had maintained a sincere tone since he addressed the crewmen at the beginning. “Military equipment and weapons are restricted shipside at all times unless we are clearing for action. Your armor is a weapon and is secured in one of the holds along with the rest of your gear.” He nods his head and continues. “The chief can take you to your equipment and make sure you have access to any assistance you require to maintain and check it. Weapons are not to be loaded or prepped unless we come under some sort of hostile contact.”

The captain nods at the security chief and continues. “The chief can also ensure that any special requirements that you have are fulfilled. I realize that your diet and workout routines are detailed and you are likely going to require higher gravity during those workouts. If you can shift your schedule, you can have exclusive use of the gym at that higher gravity during the shipboard night routine. Also, if you want to eat in your rooms or use the secondary mess hall, that is fine.”

The captain stops and takes a breath. “Most of the crew and the corporate personnel have no clue what goes into the training of a Corporate Marine. I know I have no clue. I do not understand all the specific requirements that you have to stay fit or ready to fight at a moment’s notice. I and my crew will do everything we can to facilitate you having what you need. You are after all important corporate assets and that had been stressed to me several times in no uncertain terms. I understand that.”

During all this, the two younger Marines have just watched the captain, rarely blinking, and saying nothing. Their facial expressions had remained attentive but if you were to look deeply into those eyes, it was as if no human emotions were there. If you looked closely enough, you would see something dark looking back. The captain is not looking that closely.

The captain pauses and carefully looked at one, then the other Marine standing there. “I will explain myself and how I feel once so you can understand my perception of this scenario that we have here. I do not hate or fear you. I understand that you are necessary evils that the Corporation has to maintain as there
are
threats out here from some of the aliens that we have met. I have been captain of the
Mama Pig
for fourteen years now and served on her for twenty years before that. We have never seen so much as a whisper of pirates out here. Given the size of our ship’s crew, any pirate that did attack would be insane. My real concern is that something will happen, someone will say something wrong to you or act inappropriately and you will react to that because you ARE highly trained. I am concerned about having injured or dead personnel on board my ship. I also know a bit about what your weapons can do shipside. I really do not want a fifteen-millimetre round blasting holes in my ship, either. The weapons stay secured and contact is minimized not because something will happen, but because something could happen. Do you have any questions?”

END EXCERPT