Spartan Valor Read online

  “Wake up, Porter,” Money whispered.

  My eyes popped open. Sleeping with a helmet on wasn’t ideal, but we were in enemy territory, and taking my Command Helmet off was too great a risk. I blinked several times, taking in the murky, green haze of night vision on my visor.

  “We’ve got company,” the master sergeant informed me.

  I got to my knees and crawled over to a stack of crates. My hands went over my CR 2280 instinctively as I switched off the safety and set the fire rate to a three-round burst. I checked my pockets to make sure I had extra magazines. In the haze, I could see Master Sergeant Eubanks a few feet way, staring out of a gap between the crates we had stacked up around our camp.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, before daring to peek up over the crate I was hiding behind.

  “Something’s move out there,” Money said. “I can’t make it out.”

  “Just one?”

  “I think so. It’s slow and silent.”

  “Big?”

  “Roughly human dimensions,” Money said. “It’s hard to tell in this gloom.”

  “You want to light it up?” I asked. “We have flares.”

  “Negative. So far, whatever it is, seems content to just watch. I don’t want to provoke it, and I certainly don’t want to draw any more attention.”

  “Roger that,” I said.

  The tingle in my back began as I peeked over the top of the crate. If something was waiting for a target, I didn’t want to give it my head to start shooting at. There were surveillance cameras in our supplies, but they wouldn’t be able to see any better in the strange gloom of night on Apex Venandi than my Command Helmet. Plus, I didn’t want to set up a monitor that would produce light in our camp and give the aliens something to aim for.

  The jungle around the Base Camp was thick. I didn’t see anything moving. I could see across the clearing easily enough, but the trees blended together. Something about the atmo on Apex Venandi disrupted our night vision capabilities. It was like trying to see through a thick mist. I focused on one spot and did my best not to move. Eventually I saw movement, but like Money had said, it was impossible to determine what I saw. It was simply a shift in the gloom. The night was slightly cooler than the day, but I was sweating from the tension. After an hour of staring into the jungle, I felt as if my eyes were crossing. I had only seen a slight movement once.

  “I guess whatever it was just wanted to check us out,” Money said.

  “Probably a hunter,” I offered. “They work alone at night, and they’re about our size.”

  “Go on back to sleep, Porter. I’ll wake you if I see anything.”

  “Well, that ship has sailed. I’ll take watch, if you’ll allow me, Master Sergeant.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely. I’m good.”

  “Fine, I’ll shut my eyes for a bit.”

  I saw Money turn his back on the crates and settle back against them with his assault rifle across his lap. The man could obviously sleep anywhere. Turning my attention back to the clearing and the jungle beyond, I swept my focus from side to side. The key to surveillance is to memorize as much of the details around you as possible. I couldn’t make out a lot, but I did my best to study and remember the pattern of the trees. It was difficult, but the work helped the time pass and kept me alert, so sleep wouldn’t threaten to overwhelm me.

  I hadn’t made a sound in almost four hours, yet Money stirred just as the first hints of dawn appeared. He rolled onto his back, stretched, then sat up. I didn’t know if he had set an alarm, or if he just woke up on instinct. But I was impressed.

  “Any problems?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Whatever you saw didn’t come back.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  We spent the next twenty minutes unpacking the explosives. I’m no demolitions expert, but I know enough to be dangerous. Once the sun was up, I set the plastic explosives around the clearing and synced the detonation rods to a single control unit, which any of the three of us could access with our Command Helmets. Money set up nearly a dozen tripwires in the jungle around the clearing. There was only one way in that wasn’t covered by a trap, and that was directly in front of our communications center between two massive trees.

  “If you have time after you set up the Command Post, dig some shallow holes just inside the clearing,” Money ordered. “We’ll plant some land mines when I get back.”

  “Yes, Master Sergeant.”

  “And keep an eye on Barnes. He should be fine, but I don’t want him croaking on me. Don’t let him get his hands on the morphine.”

  “I’ve got it covered. You watch your six.”

  “I will. I won’t go more than ten klicks from the camp. I’ll be back before dark — hopefully much sooner, and with fresh water.”

  “We’ll be here. Go ahead and test your comms.”

  I moved over to the long range communication gear and powered on the screen that showed a variety of frequencies all at once.

  “Comms test on the open channel,” Money announced.

  As he spoke, several lines suddenly waved as they registered his voice. I set the system to make an audible ping if any communication traffic was picked up.

  “We’re all good here, Master Sergeant. You should be in comms range all day,” I said.

  “Excellent. See you soon, Porter.”

  I didn’t bother watching him leave. I knew the wily veteran would disappear into the jungle and be completely out of sight in a matter of seconds. He had taken his assault rifle, a side arm, and several grenades. If he ran into trouble, he would give as good as he got. That much was certain. My natural instinct was to worry about him, but I turned my mind to the task at hand. Assembling the Command Post would not be an easy task on my own, and I didn’t want to waste a minute of the precious daylight.

  Chapter 4

  In all my life, I had never built anything of substance. I remember that I enjoyed playing with Magneblocks as a child and creating structures in VR worlds. But those were just games. I had grown up in a congested section of Seattle, and space was a premium commodity. No one built anything. Everyone I knew lived and died in the large, urban housing units that were older than most of the residents. People moved, but they didn’t build anything.

  Putting together the Command Post wasn’t easy, but it was interesting. Under other circumstances, perhaps with a little help, I would have found it fun. The ground was pretty level, so I didn’t have to do a lot of prep work. The floor of the field structure I was assembling, normally rested straight on the ground, but I was able to cut a stout log from the piles of wood we created by clearing the Base Camp, into small sections. Each one was thirty centimeters tall. I spaced them out on the ground, making sure they were level using a laser, then snapped together the floor of the command structure on top of the foundation posts. I had to pound metal spikes through holes in the flooring deep into the ground to secure the structure. The sound of the sledge hammer striking the metal spikes roused Barnes.

  “What the hell is all that racket?” he groused.

  “I’m working over here,” I said, through puffs of breath. “You want to help?”

  “Someone put splints on my legs?”

  “That’s right. Once I get the Command Post put together, I get to move you inside.”

  “I look forward to it,” Barnes said. “There’s nothing like agony and helplessness on an alien planet. You should try it, Porter.”

  “No thanks. Taking care of you is torture enough, Staff Sergeant.”

  Barnes actually laughed. “You eat yet?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “How long has the sun been up?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  “Did the Master Sergeant leave at first light?”

  “No,” I said. “We secured the perimeter first. He’s been gone about an hour.”

  “Nice work setting up the foundation. We’ll be able to run cables underneath.
”

  “Thanks, Staff Sergeant,” I said as I settled down next to Barnes and opened an MRE.

  The food was in a sealed packet with flavored protein wafers, potatoes, a dense square of wheat bread, and a packet of instant coffee. We ate the bland meal without complaining. It was fuel for our bodies, not intended to be delicious. I ate quickly and dropped my trash into a hole I had dug specifically for refuse.

  “You in a hurry, Porter?” Barnes asked.

  I could tell he was having trouble eating, and I couldn’t blame him. He was in a lot of pain, unable to move with the splints on his legs, and the temperature was rising quickly in the stifling jungle.

  “To be honest, Staff Sergeant, I am. I need to get this unit constructed before dark.”

  “Plenty of time for that,” Barnes said.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” I countered. “There’s still plenty of work to be done. If we’re going to be here a while, I want to make sure I do this right.”

  “Ah, to be young and eager to please again. You remind me of myself nearly twenty years ago, Porter. Did you know I was a forced enlistment?”

  I shook my head.

  “I was running with a rough crowd,” Barnes said. “I didn’t do anything wrong, really. I mean, I didn’t break the law, but I wasn’t above enjoying the fruits of someone else’s transgressions. When my crew got picked up for theft and assault charges, I got rolled up with the rest of my friends. Luckily, I was smart enough to know better than to test my luck in the legal system. They offered Space Marines, and I jumped at the chance.”

  “You ever regret it?” I asked, snapping a wall into place on the Command Post.

  “Oh, lots of times. I could have gone to a trade school and gotten a spot on a colony ship if I hadn’t been so stupid. Don’t get me wrong. I love the Marines, but at some point I would like to have a family before I’m too old and crippled to enjoy it.”

  “Don’t worry. Money checked your legs last night. You’ll be fine once we get you to a level one medical facility.”

  “If…that’s the word Porter…if we get to a medical center before the bones start to heal in a crippled fashion. If the Fleet even thinks we’re worth rescuing, and if we live long enough for another ship to get here. That’s a lot of ifs, and the odds aren’t in my favor. Who knows what kind of strange bugs and ailments are drifting around on this alien dirt ball. Forgive me if I don’t get my hopes up.”

  I couldn’t blame Barnes for feeling hopeless. We were in enemy territory and getting comfortable was dangerous. I snapped another wall section in place, and was about to tell Barnes that he had nothing to worry about when a small dart flew into the chest plate on my body armor. For a second I was stupefied, but when Barnes cursed and held up his hand with a dart sticking out between his knuckles, I let myself fall backwards.

  A strange hooting and piercing wail sounded from the jungle as I crawled behind the wall section I had just snapped together and swung my rifle from my back so that it was in a firing position. I knew the aliens were coming for us, even though I wasn’t sure who had attacked. I waited, feeling sorry for Barnes and hoping the dart wasn’t poisonous. Still, he was already hit, and there was nothing I could do for him until the aliens showed themselves. It only took a few seconds for the creatures to charge into the clearing and catch one of the trip wires. The explosion was so loud my battle helmet had to cut the exterior audio feed to save my hearing.

  I brought my rifle up over the section of wall I was sheltering behind as a large, black plume of smoke rose up into the air. The aiming reticle on my HUD showed me where my rifle was pointed, and I aimed it into the smoky edge of the clearing. Flames had taken hold in the canopy overhead, and there were tufts of gray-white hair on the ground. I recognized the signs of the Prog before they broke cover. The blow dart should have been my first clue, but everything had happened so fast. The first alien to come out of the smoke looked dazed and confused. I shot the tall creature in the chest. The tall, humpbacked bi-pod with long arms and a face that reminded me of a pug, was thrown backward by the shot. The depleted uranium blasted a hole the size of a watermelon from the creature’s thick back.

  For nearly a minute, the clearing was quiet. The only movement was the black smoke rising up from the ground. And the only sound was the crackling of fire in the branches above. Then, with a hooting wail, four more Prog ran into the clearing. I had to drop back down behind the wall to avoid their blow darts. I heard the sound of two darts hitting the wall, and guessed the other two had flown over my head. Scrambling down to the edge of the wall, I glanced out and saw the tall, lanky creatures spreading out. I brought my rifle up and fired at one of the creatures. I knocked it off its feet with my shot before ducking behind cover again. When I popped back up, I saw two of the creatures racing toward Barnes. A quick burst from my rifle took them out. I moved to the far end of my shelter and peeked around the edge, hoping to target the fourth Prog, but it was gone.

  Rising up on one knee, I swept my rifle across the clearing, looking for a target. Barnes whose curses had been growing softer as the attack progressed, was silent now. I could only hope he was unconscious, not dead. Still, whether the Staff Sergeant lived or died, my job was to survive.

  “Base Camp, report in,” Money said, his voice crackling with static. “Base Camp, do you read me? Over.”

  I toggled on the com-link using the Command Helmet’s facial controls. “Loud and clear, Master Sergeant. We’re in a bit of a pinch here.”

  “What’s your SIT-REP Porter?”

  I started to answer, when a shaggy, white figure rose up from behind a stack of crates. I tried to shoot the Prog, but the creature was too fast. It knocked my assault rifle to the side, and hit me square in the chest. My armor took the brunt of the impact, but I was knocked off my feet and lost control of my rifle. Only the strap around my neck and shoulder kept the rifle from tumbling away from me. The Prog pounced on me and immediately began to clawing at me with long talons on it’s fingertips. Once more my armor saved me. The sharp claws raked across my helmet’s view screen and tore my cammie jacket to ribbons where the creature slashed across my chest. I tried to buck the Prog off me, but the beast anticipated my move. I started to turn but remembered my training. Giving the creature my back was the last thing I should do — even though my natural instincts were screaming for me to get to my hands and knees so I could crawl away. The hand-to-hand training in Basic saved my life. Instead of turning away, I pulled my combat knife and rammed it into the Prog’s side.

  The scream of pain the Prog wailed was so shocking and horrific, I froze. The beast slammed it’s fist into my battle helmet hard enough to make the display screen go dark for a moment. I tugged on the knife, trying to pull it free, but the blade was stuck fast. Instead of the weapon coming free, the Prog toppled to side. It wasn’t dead, but the wound was mortal, robbing the long limbed creature of it’s strength. I got to my feet and stood on shaky legs as I peered around the clearing. Dark smoke still rose up from the sight of the explosion, but there didn’t appear to be any more creatures trying to attack.

  “Porter, Barnes! What the hell is going on back there?” Money demanded.

  “Master Sergeant,” I said on the command channel. “Sorry, we were attacked by a troop of Prog. Staff Sergeant Barnes was hit with a dart. He’s still alive but unconscious.”

  “Were you hit, Porter?”

  “No, Master Sergeant. I’m fine. They tripped one of the explosive devices. Only a handful made it into the clearing. They’re all dead now.”

  “Good work, Porter. I’m heading back now,” Money said. “Barnes should be okay. Those darts are laced with some type of drug, but it isn’t lethal.”

  “Should I try to repair the defenses?”

  “No, I’ll do it. You stay-“

  The line suddenly went dead.

  “Master Sergeant?” I asked. “Master Sergeant Eubanks, come in... Money, can you hear me?”

  There was no answer. Barnes
was unconscious and Money wasn’t answering my calls. I was in a very vulnerable position and completely on my own again.

  Chapter 5

  My Command Helmet showed each member of Spartan Company’s vital signs. With most of the platoon either dead or off-world, I had shut the system down so it wouldn’t disrupt my field of vision. I moved over to where Barnes lay and toggled the health meter program back on. Seeing the names of my fallen platoon mates was painful, like someone had ripped the bandage off of a fresh wound. Gunnery Sergeant Kinney Blaine, TERMINATED. Sergeant Alberto Freggetti, TERMINATED. Corporal Ivan Zerkov, TERMINATED. Lance Corporal Will Monophet, TERMINATED.

  The rest of the platoon all read OFF-LINE since they were off planet and probably out of the system. Still, I saw the last reading of their health. Sergeant Gretchen Polaski, Corporal Shawn O’Hare, Lance Corporals Peter Von’Heim and Iridescence Hope were all wounded. O’Hare’s wound even showed CRITICAL on the Heads Up Display. Fortunately, Master Sergeant James Eubanks showed that he was still alive. I tried to convince myself that it was just his communication equipment that had malfunctioned, but I suspected it was actually an attack. Something had taken the Master Sergeant out, and I felt helpless.

  Money’s tracking indicator didn’t show movement. His vitals were strong. There was no indication that he was even injured. That made almost no sense, but still gave me a measure of reassurance. There was no reason to worry. The break in communication could be caused by any number of reasons. I decided I wouldn’t worry until I had to.

  After carefully plucking the dart from the back of Barnes’ hand, I moved the bodies of the fallen Prog warriors. They didn’t wear clothes, but did have small packs they kept slung around their narrow waists. Inside the packs I found dried fruit and more darts. I put all their supplies into one of the empty crates. It was possible that we might need the items. The blowguns were simple, hollow reeds, but highly decorated. After I collected all the weapons, I put them in the crate with the packs the troop of Prog had carried, then went back to work assembling the Command Post.