Metal Boxes - Trapped Outside (4 page)

EIGHT

1LT Hammermill pleaded, “Come on, Ensign Stone. It’s a perfect opportunity to practice a jump. We have a full platoon of bored marines to take down to the planet anyway. We just land a few miles from the existing base, chew up some dirt and march to our new home.” He repeated the request for the umpteenth time trying to get Stone to overrule the original denial.

Hammermill wanted to borrow the existing marine company’s shuttles to take his platoon down to the planet while practicing combat insertions using high-speed descent with suited and armed marines bailing out in staggered formations, hitting the ground simultaneously to overwhelm any planetary forces. He was positively foaming at the mouth thinking about jumping out of a descending shuttle screaming down at an atmosphere burning speed encased in nothing but his combat suit, armed to the teeth, blasting away at their landing zone with enough ordinance to raze a small city.

Butcher had overruled him since it would mean extra time getting his platoon off the Vasco de Gama. While being in hyperspace, they didn’t have any way to gain input from the marine company commander already on Allie’s World. However, as of the last message received by Butcher, the three marine platoons on the ground had all known dangers under control. Promising Hammermill opportunities at a later time to practice jumps and insertions didn’t mollify the man.

Stone shook his head no. He could’ve given Hammermill’s platoon, now designated as Charlie Platoon, the go-ahead anyway. As planetary governor, he was in charge of everything on the planet, theoretically outranking every officer already on the ground. He didn’t want to step on the toes of a navy commander and a marine company commander, both of whom he would have to work with for the foreseeable future. He hadn’t spoken to the marine commander and wouldn’t until he took command on the ground.

Stone planned on commandeering all shuttles located on the planet to get his people and their equipment off Butcher’s ship as quickly as possible. A marine combat insertion happened fast, however, it did take more preparation time than just boarding a shuttle and departing. Everyone was still demanding to get to the planet first. He was happy to let everyone go ahead of him, though all of his leadership training courses stated he should go first as the man in charge.

1LT Hammermill and his platoon were joining the marine company on the ground. A quick reaction force of three additional platoons was already in place, sent forward by the Emperor to build and guarantee a secure site for the planetary exploitation team. Alpha, Baker, and Delta Platoons had cleared the ground and raised a two-story compound to house and protect all civilians, navy, and medical personnel. The compound was a thick ring filled with offices and barracks. It had sharp triangles jutting out in four cardinal directions. Each triangle housed a marine platoon complete with their own shuttle, offices, barracks, and storerooms. Stone planned to borrow the shuttles for extra transportation to get his people off the Vasco de Gama. The existing buildings had ceilings, meaning he could go from the ship to inside a shuttle hangar, avoiding all the dangerous outside, his highest personal concern.

Having an existing marine presence meant he had a valid reason not to let Hammermill’s marines off the Vasco de Gama first. The base was already secure. It didn’t mean Hammermill wouldn’t keep pushing for a combat insertion and to go first. It did mean Stone could allow another group to depart first—still he received conflicting requests.

Dr. Mohamed said, “I should go on the first shuttle. I’ve said this before—”

Dr. Triplett said, “Yes, and you’ll say it again and again and again. We know you want to go first, in spite of that, it isn’t logical for you—”

Mohamed interrupted “I don’t care if it’s logical. I’m the head of the civilian study group and I should go first.”

Triplett replied, “Nonetheless, you can’t do anything until we get the equipment transported and the technicians off-loaded to set up the equipment. There’s no reason—”

Mohamed waved a hand, cutting off his assistant. “Someone has to survey the laboratory setup and tell the technicians where to put everything. I don’t want our equipment off loaded and stacked willie-nilly every which way by untrained military hands. Who knows what damage they’ll do to our delicate instruments. Besides, I’m a planetologist, I don’t need any more reason. Planets—as in outside. I’ve been cooped up long enough. I want to see open sky.”

Stone shuddered at the thought of going outside, but he understood claustrophobia, as the opposite of his agoraphobia, could give Mohamed the same feelings of panic and dread as he felt. He sympathized with the man. He tried scribbling on the grounding chart, figuring out how he could shuffle Mohamed to the front of the list, even though he knew Triplett was right. Letting Mohamed go first wasn’t logical any more than it made sense to let Hammermill go first.

MCPO Thomas tapped the chart. “The navy has operational oversight and should be on the ground first—whether the new planetary governor goes first or not.”

Stone said, “I agree, except the marines already beat us to the ground.”

Hammermill nodded, “Then I should be able to get my platoon off the ship first to join the rest of the marine command, certainly for ground defense, to protect the civilians.” He grinned at Mohamed and Triplett.

Stone shook his head in frustration. Everyone wanted to go first. He didn’t want to go at all. He looked at LTSG Bhutros, Butcher’s representative at this meeting, but the man had his nose buried in a stack of reports on his display, ignoring the conversation.

Thomas leaned over and said, “Sir, this isn’t going to be the biggest decision you have to make. It isn’t even one you have to make when you think about it. Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you have to micromanage the load out. I mean, you aren’t going to personally run a loader onto a shuttle, right? How many shuttle trips will it take?”

Stone tapped the chart in front of him. “Fifteen shuttle trips. We have four shuttles from the Vasco de Gama and four we can commandeer from the marines on the ground.” They couldn’t receive or send any messages in hyperspace. He tapped the shipment order request he’d received from the ground marines, the last message from them before their jump. They requested one marine shuttle transport a dozen bodies and a dozen seriously injured marines to the ship. He didn’t want to deny the request, but there wasn’t any reason to approve it. The Vasco de Gama wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were the dead marines. The injured marines had as good medical care on the ground as they would get on a third class exploration vessel. It would become even better once he transferred the medical corps to the planet.

In a few weeks, a Stone Freight company ship, the Iridium Rock, was scheduled to arrive with his cousins Vance and Marvin, planetary exploitation experts. He’d sent a message for them to plan on dropping off their people and equipment, then transporting the injured and dead marines back to Brickman’s Station, the closest transport hub, for final transport back to Lazzaroni Base. In the meantime, Stone could send all of his medical team and their supplies down to help the medical corpsmen assigned to the marine company on the ground.

Beyond that, he didn’t see what difference it mattered who went first. He just couldn’t see why anyone would be eager—except marines—to go to a planet so dangerous that over twenty marines had already been hurt or killed. The news that marines had died was startling. He and Danielle Wright had spent a month on Allie’s World and come away with only scratches, bruises, and scrapes. Still, they’d only been trying to survive their time, not pacify the planet and build permanent structures.

Thomas was right. He was micromanaging the load out. “I’m going to number the shuttle departures. Shuttle one will be the large Vasco de Gama freight shuttle and will take Master Chief Thomas as the senior navy NCO in charge of the navy ground contingent. With him in shuttle one and on the smaller shuttle two will be all medical personnel, equipment, and supplies to immediately help the wounded marines on the ground. Doctor Menendez will determine the order of the medical corps in those first two shuttles. Shuttles three and four are the small Vasco de Gama shuttles. Shuttles five through eight are the even smaller marine shuttles.

“Shuttles three, ten, eleven, and twelve will carry all navy personnel and equipment. Thomas will decide the remaining order of who goes in which shuttle for the navy. Shuttle four through nine will transport civilian specialists. Doctor Triplett will assign all civilians to their departure order.” Dr. Mohamed started to complain. “No, Doctor. You don’t have veto authority over Doctor Triplett. It’s her ball of string to untangle. However, I suggest Master Chief Thomas and Doctor Menendez find room on shuttle one for Dr. Mohamed, so he can begin to survey his assigned space and direct his incoming people and equipment.”

Stone waved a hand at Hammermill, stopping an interruption. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Hammermill, even though the marines have taken serious injuries, they’ve reported through Commander Butcher that our landing zone and base area are secure. You’ll take shuttles, thirteen through fifteen. You’ll decide how to divide up your marines and their equipment. Even though we can do this in fifteen loads, I’m going to take shuttle number sixteen with the drascos. They may be used to riding in a shuttle, but we’re bringing them back to their home planet for the first time and I don’t know how they’ll react.” He could see no one in the group believed the drascos were his real reason for going last.

Stone shook his head. “We can only load and launch four shuttles at a time, so once the first four are gone, the four marine shuttles from Allie’s World can dock, load and depart, while shuttles one through four land and unload. Each shuttle load will need to be prepped and standing by for quick transition to the ground. Master Chief Thomas, Doctor Triplett, Doctor Menendez, and Lieutenant Hammermill will deliver their organization charts for each shuttle to me no later than sixteen hundred hours today.”

He sighed, he didn’t like being in command of people who outranked him. There weren’t any midshipmen on this deployment, so there weren’t any officers below him in rank. He was going to be in charge of a marine contingent including 1LT Hammermill and three other officers. He was also saddled with LCDR Butcher on the Vasco de Gama and his two officers. He may outrank MCPO Thomas on an organization chart, but a person didn’t get to his exalted NCO status without higher educational degrees and more than twice the time in the service than Stone had been alive. He was also in command of the medical corps, full of officers, doctors, and nurses. Even Mohamed and Triplett, while civilians, were experts in their fields with more collective education than Stone could hope to achieving.

He shook his head wondering how he kept getting himself into these kinds of situations where he was in charge of people with more experience than him. He’d been put in command of the Ol’ Toothless when it was discovered she was infested with a ring of thieves. That little episode put him in the middle of the Hyrocanian War and almost got him killed—more than once. He imagined now would be a good time to go back to supervising pot washers.

NINE

Stone jumped sideways through the open shuttle door, slamming into the garage wall. He rebounded, but kept to his feet. Jay and Peebee’s rush to get out of the small shuttle would’ve trampled him, scraping skin and bruising muscles if he hadn’t gotten out of their way. He thanked the divine powers for the marines who’d already built a secure compound, and for the shuttle pilot deciding to debark all passengers inside a large bay.

Through the open garage door, he could see the dual purpose inner circle parade ground and courtyard covered in reddish green grass and greenish red bushes. He was on Allie’s World again. He refused to follow Jay and Peebee’s rush to get outside. The drascos rolled in the grass, ripped plants out of the ground to chew them whole, and made huge piles of poop. They wonked and huffed loudly, racing round the ranks of marines in formation until Hammermill stepped out of formation and shouted at them to settle down. They dropped to the ground at the command and lay panting with excitement at the rows of men and women in their marine combat suits, standing at parade rest. The drascos looked at the rows of suited marines as if they were sizing up a new pile of chew toys, their tails thumping the ground in excitement.

Hammermill’s platoon was the only marine unit not suited up, having just arrived from the ship in orbit.

Civilian and navy personnel were rushing out of doors and other shuttle hangars. The navy formed ranks and the civilians clustered in groups. He could see a few in each group nervously glancing skyward. Stone wondered what the formation was for, but he couldn’t hide from it. Whatever was happening, he would have to go outside and join the formation. He could see Corporal Tuttle rushing from a shuttle bay, the last marine contingent landing on the planet, urging the remainder of Hammermill’s platoon into the formation. MCPO Thomas stood at the head of the small navy group, not urging anyone, leaving lower ranking NCOs to chivvy their people into a proper formation. PO3 Ryte stood in the ranks ignoring the pushing and shoving going on around her as the navy formed up. Dr. Mohamed, having been on the first shuttle down, stood with Dr. Triplett and the rest of the civilian planetary exploitation team, not bothering with any formation, just clustered together discussing whatever such people discussed, barely acknowledging the formations around them.

Taking a deep breath, feeling all the muscles in his body tense, Stone took aim at the navy formation and purposefully marched in their direction. Three steps from the grass at the edge of a hangar, a voice blared from a speaker somewhere, “Commander on the ground. Formation, a-ten-hut!” Stone froze, snapping to attention.

A suited trio of marines broke from their places at the head of the platoons, met in the middle of the parade ground, formed into a row three abreast and marched straight at him. Their faceplates snapped up exactly ten meters from him and he looked up at the smiling faces of Maj Numos, 2LT Heller, and most importantly, 1LT Allie Vedrian.

He ached to leap to her and hug her, but he was standing at attention. Then it occurred to him—this formation was for him. He hadn’t expected a change of command ceremony. He should have. He grinned back at them. He thought of these three officers plus 1LT Hammermill as his marines. Sure, they were ultimately the Emperor’s marines, but they’d had his back more than once.

Trying to think what he was supposed to say, nothing came to him. He shrugged and said, “It’s more than nice to see you. What now?”

Allie snorted at his confusion and winked at him. Heller rolled his eyes as if to say, “what else could we expect”. Numos said, “Just say, ‘Ensign Stone accepts command of Allie’s World, Base Able, and all orbital defenses’, Governor.”

Stone repeated the phrase. Numos must have set his suit’s audio system to pick up his voice and broadcast it to everyone on the parade ground.

The next words Numos said were not broadcast, but spoken so only the four of them could hear it. “You’re in command, Ensign. Do you wish to make any comments?”

He winced at the thought of making an impromptu speech. “No, Major. Certainly not.” In his short time in the military he’d stood at attention in more formations than he could count while some officer or another droned on about an old command he was leaving, the new command she was taking over, a fellow officer taking retirement, all of the things they expected to do in retirement, and how this promotion, award, medal or recognition ceremony was so well deserved. He never wanted to end a ceremony as quickly as he wanted this one finished.

Numos said, “Command formation, about face.” The three marines spun around to face the parade ground formation. He and Allie took a giant step backward to flank Stone. Though Stone was working hard to grow taller, squeezed between the two huge marine combat suits made him look like he was surrounded by mountains.

Heller broadcast. “Formation, dis-missed.” The ranks broke like dry leaves in a high wind.

Jay and Peebee took the announcement as a sign to jump into the middle of their new chew toys, scattering marines in all directions. Jay spun and attacked a suited marine, wonking happily. The marine, not used to domesticated drascos, ducked, spun, grabbed Jay’s front leg and threw her fifteen feet. She hit the ground, digging a long furrow into the dirt. Jumping up before the dust settled, she spun around, ready to rush back. The marine leapt toward Jay, the suit muscles driving upward. In mid-air, a quick snap hand and the marine unsheathed a two-foot serrated knife.

Half a dozen voices shouted, “She’s a pet.”, “No weapons.”, “Belay that.”, “Stop!”, “As you were.”, and “No!” The voices collided in a babel of noise, barely discernible.