Embracing Oblivion: Wolfpack Book 3 Page 3

  “Better to have a ruined career than to die,” she said. “Those creatures are vicious.”

  “So are we,” Dean said. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  Leaving his quarters was difficult. Esma felt distressed at her inability to help and Dean wanted to stay with her for every precious minute they had together before the EsDef brass reassigned her. But Dean had orders, and he knew he needed to be ready when Rear Admiral Chancy gave the go ahead to board the alien ship. He was anxious to see more of the strange vessel, he only hoped it wasn’t the last thing he ever saw.

  In the ready room his platoon was waiting. Corporal Adkins was recovered from his concussion and had become the senior member of the Heavy Armor Specialists. Corporal Pimrey was in a medically induced coma, and Sergeant D’Vris had been killed in action. Dean hoped with all his heart that they wouldn’t run into another of the oversized simian creatures that had taken out his senior HA Specialists. He also hoped that the four men he had left could handle whatever else they might encounter on the alien ship.

  Everyone was in armor except for Corporal Valosky, who was on her feet but still recovering from surgery after a barrage of enemy fire had found the seams in her armor and tore into her abdomen. Everyone came to attention when Dean arrived except for Corporal Chancy, who sat hunched over on a stool in the corner.

  “Platoon is present and accounted for,” Chavez said in a loud voice.

  “Excellent, Staff Sergeant. Do we have any problems with armor?”

  “No sir, everyone is ready to go. Non-lethal ammo is locked and loaded.”

  “Sir?” Tallgrass asked. “Do you want us to take anything else?”

  “We might need to break through some sealed hatches, so bring thermite, but nothing else. I have specific instructions from the rear admiral,” Dean said, trying not to let the anger he felt at the commanding officer show on his face, “not to carry anything but non-lethal ammunition.”

  “Then we shouldn’t be taking thermite,” Chancy grumbled.

  “Sir,” Fast Attack Specialist Emily Harper spoke up. “Should we leave the AAVs? There’s no time to remove the warheads and I don’t think disarming the MSVs is even possible.”

  “No, we need them for surveillance. Just take them as they are.”

  “Here we go again,” Chancy said.

  “Staff Sergeant,” Dean said as he started to pull on his armor, “take everyone but Corporal Chancy down to the hangar.”

  “Yes sir! You heard the man, we’re on the move, people. Look alive.”

  Dean adjusted the armor, which still had tears in the kevlar where a shotgun blast had slammed into the metal plate on his chest. Luckily, even though the shot had been taken at close range, the lightweight armor alloy wasn’t compromised. The left sleeve had been damaged as well, but Dean had already replaced that section of the armor, which fit against his body like a diver’s wetsuit and was capable of protecting him from the harsh environment of space, even hard vacuum.

  Once everyone was gone Dean addressed his petulant Demolitions Corporal.

  “Chancy, I know what you’ve been up to,” Dean said.

  “I’ve been in my quarters,” he said in a sour tone. “I haven’t been up to anything.”

  “Bullshit,” Dean declared. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. I’m not sure how you managed to hack your way onto the ship’s databanks, but you should know the report you deleted there was saved in the backup. I’ve made several copies.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Dean crossed the room quickly, grabbing Chancy’s throat and slamming his head back into the wall. The corporal had full armor on, including his battle helmet, so Dean was confident the lying, back stabbing, traitor wasn’t hurt.

  “Listen to me, Corporal,” Dean said in a low, menacing voice. “I know exactly who you are, a substandard Demo tech that shouldn’t have passed his training. You’ve been riding on daddy’s coattails all your life, relying on him to save your ass when you got into trouble. You bounce from platoon to platoon because no one wants you. Well, I don’t want you either, but I’m not going to pawn you off on some unsuspecting officer in need of a talented Demo Specialist. You’re part of the Wolfpack platoon, Chancy, whether you like it or not. You live or die with us. You got that? Your daddy isn’t going to save you, and he isn’t going to sabotage our mission in the hopes of keeping your career alive.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Chancy said, the terror in his voice unmistakable.

  “I’m not threatening you, Corporal. I’m giving you a chance to stand on your own two feet. We’ve been through hell and lost some good people along the way. The last thing I’m willing to do is risk anyone else in this platoon, and that includes you. So get over your fears, Chancy. Be part of the team for once in your life. We’ve got a mission to complete and I expect you to pull your weight and then some.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you’re useless to me,” Dean said, stepping away from his Demo tech and picking up his TCU. “Is that what you want to be, Chancy? Just a useless waste of space?”

  “I’m not useless,” he declared defiantly.

  “You’re angry? Good,” Dean said. “I want you angry. I want your very best. I don’t think I’ve seen it yet, because if I have, you shouldn’t be in EsDef.”

  “I earned my place,” Chancy snarled.

  “No, you haven’t, but you still could.”

  “None of you respect me. Why should I risk my life for you?”

  “No one respects you because you think too highly of yourself. A Recon platoon is only a force to be reckoned with when we all work together. You have a role on our team, but you’ve never embraced it, or shown the respect that you so desperately crave to the other Specialists in this platoon. Do that, and your time with us will quickly become what you’re looking for.”

  “I don’t need a lecture from a hack like you,” Chancy said, lurching for the door. “I’m out of here.”

  Dean wanted to stop him. In truth, he wanted to teach the arrogant corporal a lesson, but instead he stood aside and let Chancy go. He hoped that perhaps he had managed to plant a seed in the narcissistic corporal’s mind, but he wasn’t sure there was any hope that Chancy might become an effective Specialist. Dean pulled on his TCU and powered it on, waiting for a moment before picking up his rifle and following Chancy out the door.

  Chapter 5

  The E.S.D.F. Charlemagne was a small ship, consisting of a long drive shaft with engines at one end, and small hangar at the other. In the middle of the shaft was the command wheel, essentially a circular corridor that was constantly spinning so that the centrifugal force mimicked gravity. There were several long spokes that connected the command wheel with the drive shaft, allowing personnel to move between the various sections of the ship. Everything about her was close, the rooms small, the corridors narrow, yet there was a familiarity about the ship as well, it gave Dean a feeling of comfort as he made his way through the hatch and into the connection shaft that would lead him to the hangar where the rest of his platoon waited for him.

  Even with his battle armor on, the journey down the maintenance spoke was hard on Dean’s senses. Gravity seemed to shift, increasing at first, and then slipping away until he floated into the driveshaft. His TCU was linked into the temporary battle network, and he could see on the ticker running at the bottom of his field of view that his platoon wasn’t the only one preparing to board the enemy ship. Both platoons from the Sparta would join his in the main section of the alien vessel, while two more platoons from ships in the armada would board the pincer section that had broken off of the ruined space ship.

  “Let’s check comms,” Dean said over his platoon channel as he approached the hangar.

  “Platoon,” Chavez said in a commanding voice, “sound off!”

  “Adkins, check,” the HA Corporal said.

  “Wilson, check,” Tony “Atlas” Wilson said, following Adk
ins’ lead.

  “Kliner, check.”

  “Carver, check,” said the last of the Heavy Armor Specialists.

  “Harper, check.” The Fast Attack Specialist’s voice was firm, but feminine at the same time. A complete contrast to the voices of the hulking HA troops.

  “Brodus, check,” Ghost said. The lanky sniper always sounded bored.

  “Tallgrass, check.” The Demolitions Sergeant was all business and in complete contrast to her counterpart.

  “I hear you,” Chancy said, just as Dean arrived in the hangar and activated the magnetic soles of his boots.

  “Alright, we’re all good on comms,” he announced. “I want everyone to stay on the platoon channel. Both units from the Sparta will be joining us on this little adventure, but we’re taking point. I want everyone on top of their game.”

  “Sir,” Tallgrass ventured a question. “Will the other platoons be armed with non-lethals?”

  “No,” Dean said. “Which is why we’re taking the lead. Our mission is to bring back whoever is in control of the alien ship.”

  “And if we run into resistance?” Ghost asked.

  “The other platoons can kill the aliens as they trip over our dead bodies,” Adkins said.

  “Look people, we’re the A-team,” Dean said. “They’ll be watching us because we’re the best and we’re the only group with any experience facing the creatures that man the alien ship.”

  “But all we’re packing is non-lethal ammo,” Wilson said. “Will it even work against those creatures?”

  “We’re going to find out,” Dean said, hoping his doubts didn’t bleed through the audio feed.

  “I just hope we don’t run into another one of those mechanized creatures,” Kliner said. “These tranq-darts won’t do shit against that thing.”

  “If we face something we can’t handle, we’ll take a defensive position and call in the other platoons,” Dean explained. “We don’t have to like it, we just have to do it. Now get on board that shuttle and double check your weapons. Make sure everything is secure.”

  Chavez hurried the platoon onto the small touring shuttle that was on loan from the Alrakis Ship Yard. Dean waited, looking around the compact hangar and feeling like an orphan with nothing but hand-me-down equipment. Their Raptor combat shuttle had crashed on Rome Three. His platoon was stuck using substandard ammunition against a race of beings they knew next to nothing about. If the EsDef brass had learned more about the Kroll Empire, they hadn’t seen fit to share it with the soldiers doing the actual fighting. And so far, they couldn’t even be sure the alien vessel that had attacked the Alrakis Ship Yards was even Kroll, it could be a completely new species. The human race had been colonizing space for just over a century, with settlements on forty-five worlds and over a hundred space stations, but the vastness of space meant they could spend ten thousand years and not even learn everything there was to know about their arm of the Milky Way.

  “Control, this is Wolfpack, do you copy?” Dean said after switching over to the control channel. There were four main frequencies available on Dean’s TCU. The platoon channel was for his group only. The control channel linked him directly to the Operators ferrying them to the alien ship. The command channel would be for Rear Admiral Chancy to give orders to the various platoons, and the open channel could be heard by everyone all the time.

  “I read you loud and clear, Captain. All systems are on-line and we can launch as soon as you’re ready, over.”

  “Owens, what happens if the gravity field around that ship is still blocking us, over?” Dean asked.

  “Crikey, that’s a good question, sir. The gravity field would block our control of the shuttle, over.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about, over,” Dean said.

  “What are you thinking, sir? I’m wide open to suggestions, over.”

  “Well, we could park the shuttle and spacewalk across to the ship, over.”

  “Connecting with a moving vessel is difficult under the best of circumstances,” Lieutenant Owens argued. “What if you cross the gravity threshold and go tumbling down the side of the ship, over?”

  “Or get swatted by the spin of the ship,” Esma spoke up from her position in Dean’s quarters, where she was obviously listening to the control channel. “That ship looks like it’s in a lazy spin, from a distance, but up close it’s moving much faster, over.”

  “I’m open to suggestions, over,” Dean said.

  “The best possibility would be having someone on board the shuttle,” Lieutenant Owens said. “I could join you, but the controls of that shuttle are rudimentary at best. It’s meant to be controlled remotely, over.”

  “You should pilot the shuttle from the control room onboard the Charlemagne,” Esma said. “An Operator’s first priority is to man their assigned post. From the control room you can pilot any number of vessels depending on the need, but on that shuttle you can only do one thing. I on the other hand could ride over and not be missed. If I’m needed I’ll take over, otherwise it’s your show, Lieutenant, over.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that,” Owens said. “There’s hard vacuum suits here in the control center, Captain. You’re welcome to one, over.”

  “I’ll get one on and be on board the shuttle before you’re ready to take off, over.”

  “Hang on,” Dean said. “This is a Recon mission. Shouldn’t I have-”

  “No,” Captain Esmerelda Dante said firmly, cutting Dean off in mid-sentence. “Getting your platoon from the Charlemagne to the alien ship is an Operations assignment. We know how best to accomplish that, over.”

  Dean switched his TCU comlink to a private channel between himself and Esma.

  “I don’t really like the idea of you putting yourself in danger,” he said.

  “Stop worrying, I won’t be getting off the shuttle.”

  “But if something happens to the shuttle you could die.”

  “And so could you,” she said. “I’m not doing this because I’m brave, Dean. I’m doing it because it’s the best solution. If Lieutenant Owens loses control of the shuttle, you’ll be helpless.”

  Dean couldn’t argue, but he didn’t like admitting that Esma was right. He switched back onto the control frequency.

  “Lieutenant, make sure your plan is cleared with Vice Admiral Duncan. And suggest that he shares our strategy with the other ships involved. It won’t do us any good to lose another Recon platoon, over.”

  “Yes, Captain, I’ll get right on it. Control, over and out,” Owens said.

  Dean sighed, then climbed onboard the shuttle. The seats were padded and the restraints too small for the HA Specialists. Chavez had everyone situated in the shuttle, but everything about the mission felt wrong. He knew going onboard the alien ship was the right move, but doing it with non-lethal ammunition put his people in unnecessary danger. Taking a non-military shuttle into contact with an alien ship was also a risk of immense proportions. Dean had enough to worry about just keeping his platoon alive. Getting to the alien ship was dangerous, whatever they might encounter on board was surely going to be dangerous, and unfortunately, the other platoons joining them would be a threat that Dean had to worry about. Adding the woman he was falling in love with to the mix was on the verge of being completely unacceptable to Dean, but he had no choice in the matter. His future was on the line, and perhaps the future of the entire human race. He had no alternatives but to face the dangers and find a way to make sure his platoon and Esma made it back to the Charlemagne alive.

  Chapter 6

  Esma was the last person to board the shuttle. She came floating in wearing the bulky space suit that was more of an emergency precaution than a working uniform. She made her way to the front of the passenger compartment and strapped herself in opposite Dean. They didn’t speak, or make any indication of how they felt. Dean was fully engrossed in the running comms chatter from the command frequency. The shuttles from four ships would be launching at the same time and appro
aching the alien vessel in a coordinated approach that Dean had no control over.

  A red timer was counting down on the side of his TCU screen and his platoon was carrying on the usual banter as they tried to settle their nerves. Dean double checked the vid feed from the Charlemagne. The Alrakis shuttle had thick windows and didn’t operate on the same frequency as the other military ships. Dean had decided that he would monitor things from the Charlemagne’s superior vid cameras and stay tuned in to the command channel.

  “Are you angry?” Esma asked on a private channel.

  “No, of course not,” Dean said.

  “You didn’t speak to me,” she said. “I thought maybe you didn’t want me here.”

  “I don’t,” Dean said, “but only because it’s dangerous.”

  “Why is it acceptable for you to be in danger but not me?”

  “I wouldn’t say it is acceptable. But I have feelings for you and I won’t pretend that I wish you weren’t miles away from any danger, ever.”

  “So, you don’t want me here because it’s dangerous?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you aren’t mad that I insisted on coming?”

  “No,” Dean said. “It makes tactical sense to have you or someone with your skills on the shuttle.”

  “Tactical sense?”

  “Yes, when I think of things purely as a military officer I can see the advantage you bring to the mission.”

  “You’re so romantic,” she teased.

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “I can tell. You defeated the aliens before. Why will this time be any different?”

  “Probably, I’d be foolish not to assume that things will go bad for two reasons,” Dean said. “The first time we fought these creatures we had live ammunition, not this worthless non-lethal crap that Rear Admiral Chancy has ordered us to use.”

  “But isn’t that a good thing?” Esma asked. “I mean, if there are aliens still alive on board, we want to capture them, not kill them.”

  “Ideally, yes,” Dean said. “I understand that point strategically, but at the same time it puts my platoon at risk.”