Rust Bucket (14 page)

      I ordered, "Keep tracking them! If my guess is right, they're going to make repairs, too!" I wondered how many of the aliens were on board their vessel. We only knew that they looked like gorillas, though not as big, and had the disposition of rattlesnakes.

      Thinking of rattlesnakes reminded me of my home on Earth when I was a kid in the western part of the American continent. I wondered what my mother was doing right then. She was probably worried about me, especially if Headquarters had publicly announced that I was to be arrested for all the charges they told my crew to arrest me for. I could only hope that she was able to hold up under any public outcry. I wished my father was still alive. He would have comforted and protected her by absorbing all the media flack. He'd also know that I did what I did for a good reason. None of my family had ever disgraced ourselves. I certainly wasn't ashamed of what I did so far. I didn't consider myself to be the savior of our race, but I knew that I was doing the right thing, even if others didn't see it the same way. For the moment, I would let people call me whatever they wanted. The combat videos could tell the true story later.

The landing was rough, much rougher than usual, and it wasn't Rendall's fault. It was to his credit that we didn't fall apart completely. Sensors gave us the information about the alien ship. It landed almost three hundred kilometers away from us. As soon as we were down and stabilized, I ordered, "Gunners on the Mark II singles, remain on station! Everyone else to your repair parties. Let's find out how badly we're hurt and start fixing it. Sensors, recheck the atmosphere for poisons."

      "Already did, Captain. Atmosphere is safe," responded Lieutenant Sorenson.

      "Good job!" I commented to her. "Okay, then let's go out and take a look. Did you also get a direction on the nearest water supply?"

      "No need to. Rendall put us down real close to one," she responded.

      "Good job, Rendall!" I said.

      I stepped outside the ship after strapping on my shoulder pack. Several other officers and pilots went along with me. What we saw wasn't very encouraging. Half of our tail assembly was missing. It was bare structure metal left. Anyone inside those areas had been blown out into space. The engines and steering had absorbed some of the shock and minor damage, but it wouldn't have needed to be more than another meter towards the engines to have disabled us completely. Where we were at the time, we would have surely crashed into the planet's surface just as that one alien ship did onto the moon of this planet.

      Frank was already looking at the ground texture. I could tell that he wanted a scaffold for the
Thurman.
From what I could tell of the ground, I did too. Work was started on that first while I went about ascertaining more of our damage and casualties. We lost our rearmost guns and five gunners were dead. We also lost one of the cooks. The water supply was leaking out. There was no doubt that we would have to repair that soon and then start filling it by hand. There wasn't enough hose to reach the water that we could see not far from us. That was necessary if we were to keep the hydroponics going. Right then, every drop was being diverted there to keep it going. The proximity of water made the ground dangerously soft. That was also why Frank and I wanted a scaffold around the ship.

      While the work on the scaffolding proceeded, Frank and the other pilots looked more closely at the engines and steering to see what they had to deal with. They would start work on those as soon as possible to give us mobility if it was needed. I walked over to see what Frank's thoughts were.

      "Rendall did a good job. We're not taking off though unless we can get this fixed. We're going to have to scrounge a lot of equipment and parts from all over the ship," he stated.

      "Let me know in case it's needed elsewhere. Is it that bad?" I asked.

      Frank said, "It's a miracle we didn't buckle when we touched down. The scaffolding isn't just to keep the ship from toppling because of the ground. We've got two major beams exposed and damaged. I don't know how they're holding the ship up."

      I looked at where he was pointing. The damage was very visible. "Will firing the Mark II singles be too much vibration for the frame?"

      Frank replied, "I don't know. I'm sure the Mark III's are too much. Better have the Mark II gunners be real good with their shots and only when necessary until we get the scaffolding up. We're going to build that immediately, now that we know what we're facing."

      "Okay, Frank. You know what needs to be done," I replied. I then went over to the ship's surgeon and conferred with him.

      "They'll be back on duty in about two days. Just a broken arm for him and cracked ribs for her. That's the only injuries we have. The others I found are dead," he replied.

      I replied, "Okay. Can you start a detail to bury the dead? I'll hold a service when you're ready."

      He replied, "Sure. Give me a few more minutes."

      A few minutes later, I conducted a very simple ceremony honoring our dead as they were buried not far from the ship.

***

Already, the cooks were making do with what they had and fixing a meal for the crew. I could see that a meal would help their morale and spirits and didn't push for anyone to do much of anything other than the scaffolding and water tasks. Those were the two priority projects. Without them, we were dead meat. While the meal was being served, I called my officers together and discussed our defense.

      "We're going to have to stay on the defensive," I said.

      "Why?" asked Lieutenant Sorenson.

      "Because the Ape-oids are about three hundred kilometers away and they'll probably launch a raid on us. We have several choices. We stick to the ship and get the work done or we divide our force, send out our own raid, and try to do the repairs at the same time. I don't like dividing our force. Here we have our heavier guns to help defend the ship as long as we get the scaffolding in place soon enough that the vibrations from firing guns won't cause it to topple. To get the scaffolding in place, we need to use all our personnel. As much as I want to stop the enemy, our needs here are more important. If they get their ship fixed first, then we can expect a fly-over with a bombardment that will leave us marooned here, if not dead," I answered.

      Lieutenant Kruler suggested, "We ought to at least see how bad off they are. Maybe we could slow down their repairs if they appear to be in front of us."

      "That's a good suggestion. Do you want to go with me?" I asked.

      "Yes," he answered.

      I said, "Okay, I want one more person, but it can't be you, Lieutenant Remm. As First Officer, you'll have to stay here and keep things together. You'll have to make sure that the sensors and Mark II singles are manned continually."

      "I'll go with you," replied Lieutenant Sorenson.

      I said, "Fine. Be ready to leave in half an hour. First Officer, we'll be gone for a week or two considering the distance. Most likely we'll not be able to do anything to them on this trip. We'll figure out exactly where they are and how bad off they are, as well as how many of them are in that ship. Once we know that, we'll return and decide if we need to launch a ground attack in strength. Make sure that everyone keeps their sidearms with them at all times. Does anyone have any questions about what they're supposed to do?" I looked around at my officers and they all seemed to be aware of their tasks. "Good. We're going to draw enough Trats for two weeks."

      "Ugh," Lieutenant Sorenson said, "I forgot how awful travel rations are and that we'd be using them. I suppose I can eat them for two weeks though."

      "Also draw a stinger rifle to complement your sidearms for our expedition. I'll see you both in half an hour," I said as I got up from my meal and went to draw my own Trats and stinger rifle. As I got up, I realized that almost everything inside my shoulder pack might be useful finally. Was this what the Sarge envisioned when he advised me to buy these items? If so, he was almost clairvoyant. I went inside the ship to the Dining Facility where they gave me enough of the concentrated travel rations, which almost no one liked. They were largely tasteless and required lots of willpower to eat. But they did provide more than enough protein, fats, nutrients, and whatever else the human body needed to keep going in such situations. They weren't too bad if you took along some salt, pepper, and other spices to perk them up. I placed the Trats in my shoulder pack and saw that I still had plenty of room. I went ahead and filled my canteen, then placed it in the front of my shoulder pack so that I could access it while on the move.

      Then I rechecked my weapons. My projectile weapon, an ancient .50 caliber automatic pistol, had enough ammunition for me to fire it and reload once. The bullets were the most expensive part of the weapon system. I still wondered why the Sarge advised me to buy it. It was quite unlike our stingers which didn't run out of ammunition. They were rechargeable while not in use and would pick up energy from just about any light source. Even while firing them, they were constantly recharging themselves from light sources. Also, they had a longer range than the antique pistol. The stinger rifles packed even more punch and range besides being rechargeable like the regular stingers. I went ahead and drew a survival knife with the rifle and clipped it onto my gun belt, along with a directional finder and communications pack.

      Once I had all those items, I went on back out of the ship and waited for the two lieutenants to join me. They weren't far behind me with all their gear ready. As soon as they came out of the ship, we rechecked our directions and left the ship to make our way to the enemy location. This would likely be my first chance to see the Ape-oids up close and in person, so to speak. We had all seen their pictures in the briefings, but none of us had seen one up close as we probably soon would.

***

At least, we had a goodly-sized clearing for the Mark II singles to cover. Anyone trying to approach the ship would be visible for almost half a kilometer. Of course, it meant that the ship was clearly visible, but it had weapons and its hull would protect it from most light weapons. It would need to be attacked either with overwhelming odds to capture it or heavy weapons to destroy it. While there were a few chinks in our armor where the damage was being repaired, I felt the rest of the ship would give my crew adequate protection from whatever the planet might have in the way of animal life.

      I led the way across the clearing after checking the directional finder. Lieutenant Sorenson followed me and Lieutenant Kruler brought up the rear. Each of us was still wearing standard issue overslicks, mesh undies, and non-skids, along with shoulder packs. The load we carried wasn't particularly heavy or bulky. I had seen pictures of what soldiers used to carry into combat. I wondered how they ever managed to handle all that gear.

     We walked straight through most of the brush. Our overslicks easily resisted the worst of it since the overslicks were made of Tevlarian. The Tevlarian was resistant to a lot of things besides being thermally protective. It actually made it possible for us to move faster through brambles and thorny brush because it was impervious to the thorns and stickers and very slick. Almost nothing stuck to it. The overslick pants could be sealed to the overslick shirt to create a moisture and thermal seal. Yet another seal could be made at the collar of the overslick shirt to add an overslick hood with protective face shield for the worst of situations.

      Our non-skids had a top covering of the same material while the soles were quite the opposite. They gave traction on almost any surface, even ice and oily surfaces, plus they had a bounciness to them that helped absorb shock and were lightweight. Grippers at the top of the non-skids made it possible to attach the overslick pants to create a seal between them. That was useful when trying to keep liquids out of the non-skids and create thermal barriers against inclement weather.

      I estimated that we were probably making about six kilometers an hour as we moved through the sparse forest and brush. We could have moved faster, but I didn't want to run into anything without any chance to respond to it properly. I doubted that any of the wildlife was much of a threat, but I preferred to be cautious. At least, I noticed, the other officers were moving as easily and quietly through the forest as I was. I was glad that they picked up and remembered their first year academy lessons properly.

      Almost every cadet complained about the amount of time spent on field exercises during the first half-year when they wanted to get into space. Just about everyone of them had to have it explained to them that they might have to land on an uncharted or unexplored planet to discover a new life form, so being capable of moving silently and quickly was important to them. Then just about every cadet applied the effort to achieve the necessary abilities. The second half of the first year was devoted to not leaving a trail, survival instruction, and hand-to-hand combat. Usually a lot of trainees didn't make it through the first year because of the physical rigors. After all, they had to do it on an inhabited planet with the heaviest gravity of all the human inhabited worlds. Of course, the first year wasn't all physical training. There was also a lot of textdisk work, but most of that was carried out in the field while the cadets were being conditioned. So, if nothing else, a cadet was in excellent physical condition when he or she graduated after four years.

      Additionally, they were in the top of the educational strata since they had to have a college degree before they could even enter the Academy. Academically, cadets were inferior to no one. They had chosen fields from college and another from the Academy. Theoretically, every cadet was qualified to do more than just military drills. That was the way it used to be until rich families sending their kids to the Academy began bribing public officials to change the rules so that they could get in with degrees that made absolutely no sense for military use. After all, what was the Navy going to do with a real estate consultant or stock broker? The Academy had been in the habit of accepting college graduates with degrees in biology, electronics, physics, math, and languages, for example, because they saw a need for those fields in the exploration, research, and development of space.