Indomitable (10 page)

On the opposite side of Kathy were four newcomers to Victor Company. Four women as different from each other as light and dark, and all of them were wolves. Blooded. They'd all killed in combat before joining V Company, and Promise needed their experience badly. Their faces showed a mixture of genuine surprise, uncertainty, and condemnation over the range incident involving Promise's GLOCK. Firing rounds on an E-only range was a serious infraction. At the moment Promise couldn't recall which number.
Maybe the twenty-first. Regardless …
All ranges had five-meter-tall earthen berms for absorbing beams. The berms were equal to the task for bullets too, but sensitive Marine ears were definitely not, and the Corps went to great lengths to protect them. That, and a round might ricochet off a target plate or the ground, and create a friendly-fire incident.

“Relax, sisters,” Prichart said. “No one's getting thrown in the brig today. Look around. There's no one here but us. I reserved the range ahead of time. And those were not standard E-range pie plates either. The lieutenant just destroyed a trio of breakaways.”

Understanding spread across the lined face of Staff Sergeant Gail Ghorn-Oguomalandashi, the seniormost newcomer to V Company. She nodded gravely, dark eyes shifting from Kathy to Promise. Then a tight smile crept across her mouth. “Try that on me, Lance Corporal, and you
will
be incarcerated.”

Prichart stiffened and looked straight ahead, nodded sharply. “I'll remember that, Staff Sergeant Ghorn-Oguo … ah…”

“See that you do,” the staff sergeant said. “The range master and I go back a ways. Staff Sergeant Heckler has always been a trickster. She got me once, got me good too, back when we were lowly PFCs on our second tour in the verge. Mine was a dummy walkie-talkie. It ran right up on my six and through my legs. Turned around and started squawking in Standard. I jumped on top of it to save the Marines beside me but it never went off, and then it spoke words I will never forget. Someday I might tell you what it said, maybe after I've had a bit too much to drink.” The staff sergeant looked mildly amused. “It seems the two of you have a similar sense of humor, Lance Corporal. Please call me Staff Sergeant Go-Mi. It's easier.”

And a bit self-serving,
Promise thought. To be fair, the staff sergeant wasn't coming across that way, and the woman had a point.

Kathy met Staff Sergeant Go-Mi's gaze directly and realized she was being toyed with … partly at least. The other part of Go-Mi was dead serious. Kathy dipped her head in defeat. “Yes, Staff Sergeant Go-Mi. If I ever do play a trick on you, I'll make sure to wipe my tracks completely.”

“Be sure to do that, Lance Corporal. Payback is sweet.” Go-Mi nudged the pale-looking sergeant at her shoulder. “Portia, I believe we're going to fit right in here.”

“Yes, Staff Sergeant, I believe you're right.” Sergeant Portia Dvorsky spoke with a heavy accent and lively blue eyes. Her PT uniform hugged her womanly frame, and her standard-issue tank shirt was barely adequate to the task. Porcelain pixie features betrayed an Old Earth Russian heritage. Next to her stood Sergeant Carol Keys, a broad-shouldered woman with a plain face and large hands. Beside her stood Sergeant Hema Lu. Lu's blond hair contrasted sharply with her bronzed skin and brown eyes.

Promise motioned to the waist-level ferrocrete table situated behind the firing line. “Circle up, Marines. We've got a lot to cover.”

 

Twelve

APRIL 23
RD
, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 1449 HOURS

REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD

MARINE CORPS CENTRAL MOBILIZATION COMMAND

RED FIRING RANGE (ENERGY WEAPONS ONLY)

Promise set her minicomp
in the center of the table and lightly touched the opaque screen. A short sequence of commands brought up a holographic map, which blossomed above the device, consuming about a cubic meter of air. At the center of the map rose a tall snowcapped mountain carpeted in lush green up to the tree line. The mountain's base flowed outward toward a ring of sandy beaches, and dropped below ocean level into a shallow walk-up reef. One side of the mountain was blown out. Tense eyes absorbed the dormant volcano. Promise heard a throat clear, a sharp inhale, and a not quite subvocalized profane invocation.

“Yes, Marines, it's
that
mountain.” The volcanic peak was called Mount Bane for a reason. For decades it had served as the principal assault testing ground for frontline RAW-MC units. Mount Bane had humbled the most adept Marine company commanders. One-hundred-percent unit casualties weren't unheard-of.
And that scares the mess out of me.
Promise continued, “Victor Company's scheduled for a surgical strike on the island.” Promise cleared her throat. She reached into the map and grabbed the leeward face of the mountain, slid it left to expose the volcano's interior. The cross section showed over a dozen levels. “The command center is located here. As you can see, the entire island is heavily guarded by Android Enemy Soldiers and surface-to-air platforms. The beach is a kill zone. The sky is a kill zone. But, the water is perfect for swimming.”

Promise looked up at the gunny and nodded. Ramuel grunted in response and shook his head no, giving her a look that said,
You've got to be kidding me.

“I'm deadly serious, Gunny.” Then Promise scanned the faces of her Marines, one by one, until her eyes came to rest upon Maxi's. He was on the opposite side of the holomap and turned slightly toward her, so the unit patch on his utility shirt was clearly visible: a snake coiled around a warship, crushing it to death. “Pythons, it's our turn. I realize tomorrow's exercise is just a training op. I know you will give it your best. The women and men under your command, particularly our greenhorns, may be inclined to slack. Don't let them. Tomorrow, we go to war. We are going to run the operational plan for the rest of the afternoon, and then run it again as a full company later on tonight, down to the smallest detail. Let's win this one now. It's going to be a long night and an even earlier morning, and tomorrow will kick with a vengeance. Time to love the suck.”

“Operation Doomtouch,” said Sergeant Morris wistfully. “If you make landfall, you're a lucky jane or jack.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Sergeant. Success hinges on our planning and preparation,” Promise said in a neutral voice. “I suppose providence has a hand too.” Promise reached into the map and collapsed it. “My goal—my expectation—is zero-failure. We all make landfall together. We all come home. Questions?”

“If you say so, ma'am,” Morris replied.

Promise had fought beside Morris on Montana and they'd barely survived, and then they'd buried the rest of Victor Company together. Morris knew firsthand what a no-win situation felt like, and Operation Doomtouch had all the hallmarks of a royal FUBAR.
Not on my watch, though. Not if I can help it.

“Ma'am, I'm with you—you know that,” added Morris after a long moment. “But, this operation rubs me raw. It's designed for failure. What good is running an op that's unwinnable?”

“Just because it hasn't been done before doesn't mean it can't be done, Sergeant.”

“Ooh-rah, Lieutenant.”

“That's the spirit, Lance Corporal Van Peek,” Promise said as she turned to the much larger man standing beside her and reached up to slap him on the back.

“I assume you'll want a HALO drop?” The gunny brought them back to point, arms crossed as he scrutinized Promise through the holographic display from the opposite side of the briefing table.

“Yes, with a splash at the end.” Promise smiled with her eyes.

“I was afraid you'd say that, ma'am.”

Promise parroted the gunny's body language. “Don't give me that look, Tomas. That's what tanked air is for. We can walk the bottom and swim the pipes. No one's tried it before. The powers that be won't be expecting a blue space approach.”

“Yes, that's true, Lieutenant, they won't expect us in the blue. But walking in drink will slow us down considerably. If we're detected, we're bait.”

“That's why I brought this.” Promise looked over her shoulder. “Stevie?”

Promise's Mule hovered over on a plane of countergrav and handed her a nondescript box with a serial number stamped on both sides. The close infantry-support platform was dressed in desert camouflage and fitted with webbing on its front and back.

“Thank you, Stevie.” Promise gave her Mule a gentle pat and shooed it off.

Staff Sergeant Go-Mi looked at Promise strangely. Sergeant Maxi was standing opposite Go-Mi and read her expression, started to laugh, and raised a hand to his face to clear his throat. “She goes easy on her Mules, Staff Sergeant. Actually, Stevie is her first issue—her one and only—and that was six standard years ago. The two are attached at the hip.”

“I'm rather proud of that fact, Sergeant,” Promise said with an edge that didn't match the twinkle in her eyes.

“I know, ma'am,” said Maxi, who turned and winked at Promise.

“Wow, I'm on my seventh Mule with twelve standard years in the service,” said Staff Sergeant Go-Mi. “Ma'am, with all due respect, is Stevie humping your gear or is it the other way around?”

“Told you,” Maxi said.

“And Sergeant Sindri is on his sixth Mule and it only took him six years to beat the living daylights out of the first five,” quipped Promise.

“What?” Maxi said with perfect innocence. “Mechs
were
designed to grunt it out for us.”

“Didn't the Corps put you on notice? Next one is on you if it doesn't last through Christmas, right?” Promise said.

“Thanks, Lieutenant. Thanks a lot.”

“That's why I'm here, Sergeant.”

The gunny's sigh brought the conversation to a halt. “All right, boys and girls, shall we get on with it?”

Promise nodded. “The gunny's right. We drop tomorrow and we're dropping into blue space.”

“This just gets better and better,” replied Gunnery Sergeant Ramuel.

“Come now, Tomas. You aren't afraid of a bath, are you?”

“I don't like the idea of not being able to swim. Mechsuits don't have fins, ma'am. They don't float either.”

“I
know,
which is why, before I was so rudely interrupted, I brought this.” Promise held up the box that her Mule had humped over for her. She set it on the table, cracked the top, and pulled out a metallic disk that looked like a giant-sized egg separator. “This is a multidirectional hydrodisk.”

The gunny looked unconvinced.

Promise set the disk on the table and activated it. For a moment nothing happened. A soft hum grew into a ramping sound followed by several clicks. Four rungs deployed and the disk enlarged to twice the size it had been moments ago. “The handholds and outer ring make up the M-HYD's base.” Promise grabbed both to demonstrate. “The inner circle is tethered to four retractable tow cables. When deployed underwater, the M-HYD's forward assist advances several meters ahead of the user, and generates propulsion. We will slave these to our AIs. All we have to do is hold on while they pull us through the water.”

Staff Sergeant Go-Mi cocked her head. “Ma'am, I would love to know how you got your hands on forty M-HYDs without tipping your hand. Tomorrow's assault will be carefully monitored and those are not standard issue.”

“That is a superb question, Staff Sergeant. Turns out some brass will be monitoring our drop too.” All eyes were on her now, wide as saucers. “Sergeant Sindri, would you care to answer the staff sergeant's question?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Maxi turned to Staff Sergeant Go-Mi. He made a show of stretching to his full height and grew uncharacteristically serious.

“The explanation you seek, Staff Sergeant, won't be found in the good old RAW-MC.”

“You went off-grid.”

“I would never, Staff Sergeant. I simply went off-base and into town. Deep Sea Six was having a sale on thermal suits and rebreathers, and ten percent off everything else.”

“And you blew all your pay,” Promise said.

Maxi looked guilty as charged, and shrugged. “Um, DSS really does have everything. You should see the place. The cathedral ceiling is breathtaking, with a top-rate holosphere. I literally walked through the jaws of the Devil Dog on my way to the men's.” The Devil Dog was a famous constellation faintly visible from the surface of the planet Hold, and across the planet's solar system. The view from Hold's only moon was particularly gratifying. The constellation consisted of ten stars, the nearest being twenty-two light-years away. Drawn together, they outlined the profile of a fierce canine (assuming you filled in the teeth with foam and drool, and added flaming eyes and a snarl).

“Just off the men's is the longest row of poles and tackle in the 'verse. Even the literature says so. I picked up a sonic spear—the Mac-Seven—perfect for the modern underwater enthusiast.”

Promise felt a headache coming on. A few standard years ago she'd pushed Maxi to invest a portion of his monthly pay into a multisystem index fund. Thankfully, he'd heeded her advice and his portfolio had grown consistently, even beating the market most years. Without Promise, he would have been a very broke sergeant.

“I placed the order for the hydrodisks too, on the lieutenant's orders. They arrived four days later via jumpship, which is stellar service by any standard.”

“And how did you … how did we … how did the company pay for forty hydrodisks?” asked Staff Sergeant Go-Mi.

“We didn't. Deep Sea Six donated them to the RAW-MC, specifically to our company. DSS has a large parent company with a significant R-and-D department, and its weapons division is courting BUWEPS.” Maxi nodded to the hydrodisk before them. “That there is the M-HYD Model A, and we will be testing it in a simulated combat environment for some very senior brass.”