Metal Boxes - Rusty Hinges (23 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Stone glanced at the armored marines lining the captured shuttle corridor. They appeared relaxed, joking and jostling each other as marines often do when combat is imminent. The rookies of Charlie Platoon joked harder than their veteran counterparts — mostly to cover their own nervous energy.

This wasn’t Stone’s first time in combat, with or without a suit. His nose itched. The irritating tickle was the same one that had plagued humans for thousands of years. The minute one’s hands were occupied elsewhere, the nose rebelled and started to itch. Being inside his armor didn’t stop his nose any more than it did anyone else’s. He leaned his head forward slightly, scratching his nose against the probie bar, relieving the itch.

The customized armored suit wasn’t built exactly to navy specifications, though it did have a proboscis scratch bar just below the faceplate and all of the other standard equipment. Navy suits were slight upgrades from commercial grade EVA or miners suits, except for the weapons. His suit wasn’t designed to combat marine specifications as a weapons platform because Grandpa urged him to avoid combat. However, Grandpa had sent a note along with the man who delivered the suit stating that if he couldn’t avoid combat, the family wanted him protected and able to shoot back.

A marine’s suit was designed to handle dozens of different weapons. Stone’s suit was the weapon and its armor was thick and puncture resistant. Stone doubted a male drasco in a rape-fuelled rage could damage it. The pressure reactive interior would keep Stone from rattling around inside should he do anything more taxing than dropping from a few kilometers up onto a plasticrete shuttle pad. The specialized interior significantly shortened the breaking in period, making it almost plug and play, or wear and kill, depending on your point of view.

His suit also had a camo setting. Stone didn’t ask how his grandfather managed to get the classified design specifications. He never discussed that feature with anyone lest Grandpa had done something unethical to protect his grandson. Everyone knew he had camouflage, but they tactfully ignored how he might have gotten it. He also didn’t discuss how his firepower was a match for any marine without the need to carry handguns, rifles, grenades, or even a thick stick. The suit’s enhanced visual capabilities and odor receptors worked in conjunction with Stone’s own abilities, although he trusted his own senses more than the suit.

With a few minor exceptions, Stone didn’t look any different than the marines surrounding him in this corridor, though his suit cost more than all of theirs put together. He knew the price because he’d tried to get his grandfather to order one for Allie. As much as his grandpa wanted to provide a suit for someone who might become the mother of his grandson’s children, Allie refused to stand still for a fitting. Allie said marines party together, eat together, and fight as one. Until every marine had a special suit, she wouldn’t wear something that wasn’t marine issue.

The marines around him lined the bulkheads. Their camouflage was off as the shuttle slid into the hangar bay of the Hyrocanian warehouse ship. Many of the marines had their faceplates up. Stone smelled a wide variety of odors. He caught the fragrance of lime from a young marine, his sense of fear and caution evident on his face. Sergeant Janson leaned into the marine saying something that caused the young man to laugh.

Stone smelled rancid grease as more than one marine worked up his hostility against the Hyrocanians. He identified a strong odor of roses dipped in maple syrup indicating murderous intent, but he couldn’t work up any sympathy for the aliens who would face those particular marines. The familiar smell of pepperoni pizza with jalapenos reminded him of a pretty young marine he’d known a few years ago. She was dead now. Combat marine forces attracted more than their share of borderline sociopathic killers. Stone didn’t mind having them along as long as they focused their urges toward the enemy.

“Hey, Boss,” a voice popped into his ear through his suit’s communications net.

He turned and saw Spacer Dollish looking up at him through his closed faceplate. His armor looked like a walking armory with dozens of weapons hanging off every possible hook. “Going somewhere, Tim?”

“I’m off duty, so I thought I’d take a little walk. What about you?”

“I’m just going along with these fellows as a translator.”

Dollish’s comms gear relayed his disbelieving grunt. His disbelief was well founded now that the piglets and drascos could communicate through their new dataports. “Is that why they’re coming along?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. Three marines dropped into the corridor from the deck above.

“Hello, sweetie,” Tuttle said through her open faceplate. “We really should stop meeting like this.”

Stone grinned, “Sweetie? Is that how marines greet officers these days?” He nodded at the other marines, “January, al-Julier, it’s good to see you two.” Even though the couple had been married for a few years, he still had a tendency to call the woman by her maiden name.

Tuttle laughed, “When they’re sweet little navy nuggets, yeah, we do.”

Stone asked, “Why aren’t you with Bravo Platoon?”

Tuttle answered, “LT Vedrian said we should keep an eye on you so you don’t do something stupid.”

Dollish said, “That seems likely to me, sir. Given your past history, I mean.”

“Really? You, too?” Stone asked Dollish.

Tuttle said, “I told the LT that she has me watching over your body so often that she ought to let me use it once in a while. She said that I can use any part that I let get shot off.”

Stone said, “Shot off? What did you say?”

“I’m thinking about it. Don’t rush me.”

Stone waved his gauntlet-covered hands around him. “I’m embarking with Charlie Platoon. Doesn’t Lieutenant Vedrian think that Hammer’s whole platoon can keep me safe?”

Tuttle looked over his shoulder. “Sir.”

Stone turned back around, coming face-to-face with 1LT Hammermill.

Hammermill said, “Sorry for listening in, folks, but Lieutenant Vedrian is right. Charlie Platoon has our own orders and objectives.”

Stone smelled the strong mint fragrance of loyalty wafting from the small crowd around him. He wasn’t worried about any of them deliberately putting him in harm’s way, but combat was as close to chaos as any human endeavor. The plan was for Stone to stay with Charlie Platoon, but as every sane combat veteran knew, no plan ever survives first contact with an enemy.

Hammermill continued. “Corporal Tuttle. Stick with Ensign Stone no matter what the rest of Charlie does.”

“Sir, that’s my —”

Stone quit listening when Ell started shouting,
“Mama. Mama. Mama. I can smell them. Wheeeee! Like, they have b.o. bad!”
He spun around to see Ell hunched low to the deck, her back legs planted, with her front legs dancing in excitement. Her neck craned upward as she stared at the closed hatch. Stone slammed his faceplate closed and activated his suit’s enhanced fragrance receptors. He caught the scent of hostility, a normal Hyrocanian odor.

A marine private shouted over Charlie Platoon’s communications net. “Drasco alert, LT. Ell went on alert.”

The marines couldn’t hear any of the drascos, but all eight had worked with the marines since they were youngsters. Their body language was easy to read. Ell was so excited she’d completely forgotten she had a new communicator.

Peebee’s talons scraped on the deck as she slid to a stop next to Stone. “
Easy, daughter. Don’t rush too far ahead. Stay with your marines. They need your protection. Right, Mama?
”

Stone said, “Teamwork, Ell. You’ve trained with the marines. Your job is to protect them.”

He patted Peebee on the head, “She’ll be fine. Your daughters will all be fine.” He looked down the long corridor. Tee was hunkered down like her sister. Bea was up on her back legs, wings flapping, wonking loudly.

“
I know, Mama. They’re just excited.”

Stone didn’t look around for Jay. She was with Charlotte, Emily, and Anne attached to the piglet assault troops. He flashed a quick thumbs up to Hammermill as they heard over their comms, “Helm, here. We’ve crossed their hangar bay threshold. Thirty seconds to clearance. Marines on my mark.”

The thirty seconds were gone before Stone could take a second breath. The call came loud and clear. “Mark.” He was chomping at the bit to flick on his gilley setting, race forward through the hatch, and drop into the Hyrocanian shuttle bay. But, he held his place, trying hard not to dance from one foot to the next like Ell and Tee.

Drs. Wyznewski and Emmons were spoofing the alien comms, so they should be expecting the shuttle. The plan was to block all outgoing comms from the warehouse ship until they had complete control. The Hyrocanians wouldn’t expect Alpha, Bravo, and Delta Platoons to come rushing out of the shuttle. Almost two hundred invisible marines in full armor were about to drop from the shuttle, swarming through the big bay, locking it down to secure it.

Stone had hoped to activate his camouflage mode and drop in behind one of the front assault waves. That hope died when Dollish joined him. He didn’t have the heart to send the spacer away and Dollish’s suit didn’t have a gilley setting. His presence with the front assault group would give away the initial surprise. Besides, his part of the plan was to stay with Charlie Platoon, Peebee and her daughters, and act as translators for Shorty’s troops. He tagged Dollish and the three marines on his HUD so they could all see him, even when camouflaged.

They didn’t have to wait long. A slight vibration shivered through the bottom of Stone’s feet. The comms popped on, “Shuttle, tactical here. They know we’re here. Their weapons have gone hot. Go. Go. Go.”

Stone didn’t wait for anyone. Vaulting through the closest hatch, spinning in midair, hitting his gilley setting, he landed on his feet. Things were blowing up all over the shuttle bay with Hyrocanians of all sizes falling to the deck in limp piles of dead flesh.

The marines remained in gilley mode moving about almost unhindered except for an occasional Hyrocanian shooting at random trying to hit what it couldn’t see.

Peebee landed next to him. Ell, Tee, and Bea dropped to the deck from the bottom of the shuttle. Each was accompanied by a team of marines in gilley setting. Hyrocanians could only see four drascos dropping into their bay. A loud screech echoed and a piece of deck plate peeled away at Ell’s feet.

Stone spun around spotting a Hyrocanian on a high catwalk. He pointed a finger at the creature and squeezed his pinkie finger closed. A small bullet described a straight line from the palm of his other gauntlet to the chest of the four-armed freak. Six-inches after impact the small bullet exploded, leaving a pair of Hyrocanian legs standing on the catwalk after a rain of body parts.

Stone watched a marine take a direct hit to the middle of his chest, blowing him backwards in a tumbling somersault. The marine managed to stop his skid and crawl behind a stack of shipping containers. His gilley setting had failed and Stone saw a deep dent in his chest. The marine gasped for air, flipping up his faceplate trying to breathe. The man was lucky the hit was on the chest plate covering his torso. An impact that hard would easily tear off a body part if it hit a limb or a joint. He was gasping for air, but he was in one piece. The suit’s medical system would have to suffice for now. Until they completely secured the shuttle bay, Major Numos wouldn’t allow the medical corps into the combat zone.

Stone closed his eyes quickly, trying to remember where the shot had come from that knocked the marine off his feet. Up and angled. He looked up and spotted a high control room at the far end of the hangar. Hyrocanians inside the room were remote controlling a pair of gatling-gun cannons mounted high on the bay’s bulkheads. The clear shields over the control room must have been special plexiglass as the Hyrocanians inside were targeting specific marines even though everyone was camouflaged. Major Numos’s fireteam spotted the control room at the same time he did. They reacted quicker. Each fired at the plexiglass with whatever weapon they had at hand, but nothing even scratched the plexiglass.

A Hyrocanian spotter jabbed fat stubby fingers at Numos. A gun operator swung the cannon using its back arms to rotate the machine while its front arms depressed the muzzle and hit the trigger. A long stream of bullets splattered against the deck. Numos and two of his team were gone before the bullets reached the spot. The fourth marine was slow. She disappeared in a pink mist amid a swirl of broken, twisted suit.

Stone pointed a finger at each of the bulkhead mounted cannons and fired by squeezing the ring finger of his other hand against the palm. A pair of pencil-sized mini-rockets streaked upward from the middle of his chest. Before they were halfway across the open space, he pointed his finger at the plexiglass and squeezed a finger three times. Three quick jolts pushed his arm backwards.

The mini-rockets slammed into the cannons at the same time the much faster bunker busters hit the plexiglass with a splat. The mini-rockets blew deep cavities in the bulkhead, ripping the Hyrocanian cannons into tangled masses of useless metal. The mini-rockets provided a clear trail from his chest directly to the cannons, giving the Hyrocanians a clear view of who had shot at them.

The bunker busters plastered across the plexiglass, spreading out like spit-wads on a window, blocking the Hyrocanian’s view. They glared at him from around the blobs blocking their view. Using his enhanced suit optics, he saw a fat Hyrocanian shouting at another. Another cannon slowly lowered from the ceiling of the hangar. The fat alien pointed at Stone and shouted something at its companions. Stone smiled and waved goodbye as the three bunker busters finally melted their way through the plexiglass, blasting the interior with heat and a shockwave that pulled the whole control room away from the bulkhead. It crashed to the hangar bay deck. The interior of the plexiglass was painted with blood. It was undisturbed except for three tiny holes. Stone nodded in satisfaction. He’d learned the suit functions in a sim and was pleased they were easier to use in reality.